(a) July to October.

The Battalion was now in the VI. Corps of the Second Army. Several days were spent in the wood near St. Jans ter Biezen and the men never had any cover there, but, fortunately, it was early July and the nights were not cold. No one was allowed outside the wood in daylight except on duty. Some training was carried out, particularly bombing, instruction in which was pushed on as fast as possible; occasionally short route marches were made in the failing light and cool of the evening. But more time was occupied in the inspection of gas helmets than in anything else. Three inspections of these were held daily, by the platoon commander, company commander, and battalion commander respectively; it can easily be imagined how long a time it took the Commanding Officer personally to inspect the helmets of a strong battalion. On July 2nd, the Battalion was inspected by General Sir H. Plumer, who had formerly been G.O.C. Northern Command, and was now commanding the Second Army. The 49th was the first Territorial Division to be detailed for a long spell in the Ypres Salient, and this probably increased General Plumer’s interest in it, in addition to the fact that much of its training in England had been carried out under his supervision. Whether there is any truth in the rumour or not, it was always an article of faith in the Battalion that Plumer had a “soft spot in his heart” for the 49th Division. The next day it was again reviewed, this time by Lieut.-General Sir J. Keir, G.O.C. VI. Corps.

The Ypres Salient bore a very evil reputation—not without cause. Reconnaissance of the forward area began soon after the Battalion’s arrival at St. Jans ter Biezen, and it was at once obvious that Ypres was a very different proposition from Fleurbaix. The earliest experience of A Company is worth quoting as an indication of what was to be expected. One day Capt. M. P. Andrews, at that time commanding A Company, spent a day in the line with the 2nd Battalion Royal Dublin Fusiliers. There he made the acquaintance of three officers of the company which he was soon to relieve. Thirty-six hours later one of his subalterns visited the same company, only to find that, during the short intervening period, all the three had become casualties—one was dead, a second had been lost on patrol, while the third had been evacuated wounded. This was indeed a rude awakening after the quiet life at Fleurbaix.

At scarcely any period of the war could the neighbourhood of Ypres be called quiet. In the autumn of 1915 the British held only a small bridge-head to the east of the Ypres-Commines Canal. Frequent attempts were made to extend this, and the enemy was just as anxious to drive the British out of the salient altogether. When the Battalion arrived in the area things had barely settled down after the Second Battle of Ypres, in which the enemy had won for himself all the commanding ridges, except Mont Kemmel. Since then minor operations had kept the front lively. One of these took place near Boesinghe only two days before the 49th Division took over the line, and the 148th Infantry Brigade in particular came in for a good share of the “liveliness” which followed it.

On July 7th, the Battalion moved to Canada Wood, near Elverdinghe, where one night was spent. The next evening it relieved the 2nd Battalion Royal Dublin Fusiliers in the Lancashire Farm Sector. In spite of the narrowness of many of the trenches, the relief passed off very quickly. As the Battalion filed in the Dublins filed out, only too glad to hand over their charge to someone else.

The 49th Division now held the extreme left sector of the British line. Its left rested on the Ypres-Commines Canal near Boesinghe, abutting on the French, whose line however was west of the canal. The 6th Division was on the right. The dominating feature of the sector was the Pilkem Ridge; this was entirely in the hands of the enemy, who thus possessed every advantage of high command and superior observation. This sector the 49th Division was destined to hold until the end of December—six months of continuous trench duty in the very worst part of the British line. Reliefs were so arranged that two brigades held the line while the third was back in rest. Thus the Battalion found itself in several different sub-sectors during its stay in the Ypres Salient. On every sector the defence scheme was simplicity itself—the front line was to be held at all costs; not an inch of ground was to be lost.

During the first tour in the Lancashire Farm Sector A and D Companies held the front line, B Company was in support, and C Company in reserve. One of the main features of the sub-sector, and indeed of the whole divisional front, was the confusing network of old and disused trenches. Many of these had been hastily dug in the heat of battle and afterwards abandoned when they were found to be badly sited. Some, however, were gradually being incorporated in the regular system. The original notes on the sector, which were handed over by the Commanding Officer of the Dublins, have been preserved; their outstanding feature is the continual reference to “work to be done.” He was right. Never did the Battalion find itself harder worked than during the next few months.

The tour was a very anxious one. Away on the left the 148th Infantry Brigade was having a very rough time of it, the enemy making frequent counter-attacks to recover the ground which he had lost a few days before. Not knowing when the enemy’s attention might be turned further south, the Battalion had to be very much on the alert. No one slept at night, and two officers per company were always on duty during the day. The men in the front line trenches were fully occupied with sentry duties and working parties, and it was deemed inadvisable for any of them to go away from their positions. Thus, all carrying fell on the reserve company, which had a very hard time of it. Trolley lines were not yet in use, and all rations and R.E. material had to be carried right up to the line from the Canal Bank—a distance of well over a mile. But all ranks worked magnificently.

“This is a very noisy place after Fleurbaix” is the War Diary’s comment on the day the line was taken over. It was! Though nothing extraordinary for the Ypres Salient, the enemy artillery activity was a great increase on anything the Battalion had experienced before. Lacrimatory shells were much in evidence and these were, at that time, rather an unknown quantity. The front line, at one spot, was only about seventy yards from the enemy, but this did not procure for it any immunity from shelling. There, too, the Battalion received its first introduction to trench mortars, and it had nothing effective to retaliate with. Machine gun and rifle fire were also severe. As at Fleurbaix, there were many very accurate snipers among the enemy, and these were always on the look-out for targets. So, from one cause or another, the Battalion suffered a number of casualties before its five days’ tour was over. The most important of these were Lieut. E. Lee and C.S.M. A. Parkin of B Company. The former was shot through the head while instructing some of his men of the Machine Gun Section how to repair a weak spot in the parapet. He was the first officer of the Battalion to be killed, and his loss was very deeply felt by all who knew what a fine, keen and enthusiastic fellow he was. C.S.M. Parkin had an arm blown off by an enemy shell.

On July 13th, the Battalion was relieved by the 5th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s Regiment, and went into Brigade Reserve on the Canal Bank. During the relief part of the area was heavily bombarded with lacrimatory shells. This considerably interfered with the operation, for the teaching at the time was that men should always remain as still as possible when any form of gas was about. Such action was certainly advisable when no better protection than the P. helmet was available, for it was so stuffy that any movement became a torture to the wearer. However, it proved an effective protection against the lacrimatory shells of the period. About this time Major-General T. S. Baldock, C.B., was wounded by shrapnel at Divisional H.Q. Major-General E. M. Perceval, C.B., succeeded to the command of the 49th Division.

During its stay in the Ypres Salient, the Battalion occupied more than one position on the banks of the Ypres-Commines Canal. All were much alike. Officers and men were accommodated in shelters built into the sunken banks. Things were not always any too quiet. The enemy knew perfectly well that considerable numbers of troops lived there, and naturally selected the canal as one of his barrage lines. As a result, strict orders against loitering near certain points were issued, much to the disappointment of some enthusiastic fishermen in the Battalion. The outstanding feature of this, and all other periods of Brigade Reserve—indeed, of every day of the latter months of 1915—was WORK. During the day men ate and slept. At night there was no rest for officer or man. Many were employed on the construction of communication trenches, sometimes only just in rear of the front line. Great efforts were made to get the trench railways into going order and, when this work was completed, the resting battalions had to do a great deal of truck-pushing along them. One of the main difficulties to be contended with was water. Even in July there was a good deal of rain; it had rained while the Battalion was relieving the Dublins—surely an indication of what the future held. Water lay so near the surface that much digging was useless, and all work had to be built up and revetted. Looked at in the light of later experience, it seems a pity that no drainage scheme was instituted at the very beginning. It was obvious that, as soon as the autumn rains began, the trenches must become water-logged. Yet nothing was done. Perhaps the higher authorities still hoped that an advance would be made ere the wet weather came. Working parties were not free from danger. There was little artillery fire at night, but machine guns were very active, and rifle batteries frequently played on obvious places like the trench tramways. Slowly, but steadily, the Battalion’s total of casualties mounted up. Yet, in spite of all, the men worked magnificently. They possessed almost boundless enthusiasm, and were now reaping the benefit of their training near Fleurbaix. Without exception, officers who served with them during this early period show the greatest enthusiasm when they speak of the splendid spirit of the Battalion. The private soldier, of course, had the hardest time of all; but his officers were little better off. In order to obtain continuity of work a Brigade Field Officer of the week was appointed from one of the battalions in reserve, his duty being to supervise all work. The job was no sinecure. He was as hard-worked as any honest, though grousing, private. And some people called these spells in Brigade Reserve “rest” periods!

After five days on the Canal Bank, the Battalion did a second tour in the Lancashire Farm Sector. Fears that the enemy was about to make an attack on the French postponed the relief for a few hours, but eventually it passed off smoothly. The only event of any interest during this tour was a gas alarm practice. Shell cases and klaxon horns had been plentifully distributed about the line, and one day a highly successful, full-dress rehearsal was held by all companies. It evidently puzzled the enemy, for he put down a protective barrage along the canal. It also puzzled Battalion H.Q., which no one had thought of warning, and numerous terse, though hardly polite, “chits” circulated in consequence. It is worth while to note here that the highly-organised system of reports, which in later days was a perpetual worry to luckless company commanders and adjutants, had not yet developed. If a company commander wanted to send out a patrol he simply sent one; he never dreamed of informing Battalion H.Q., much less of asking its permission or submitting a report after the event.

On July 24th, the Battalion moved back to the woods near Oosthoek for its first spell in Divisional Reserve. This can hardly be called a “rest” period, except that baths and clean clothing were available. A little training was attempted, but it was seriously interfered with by the large working parties which had to be found. Some of these were employed in the forward area, moving up and returning daily by motor bus. Others were set to work to convert Trois Tours into a defended locality. The men worked well, but perhaps without quite their earlier enthusiasm. The novelty of active service had worn off. They never properly understood the necessity for all their work. Labour companies and coloured units were then unknown; everything fell upon the hard-worked infantrymen. The following official communication, circulated by 49th Division “G” to Brigades about this time, shows a certain appreciation of the situation on the part of the higher authorities:—

It is not often that the General Staff stoops to such frivolity in the transaction of business. But let no mistake be made. The hard conditions under which the men lived were not the fault of dear old General Brereton.

The Battalion returned to the Lancashire Farm Sector on July 30th. Apart from considerable activity on the part of enemy trench mortars, and a good deal of sniping, the tour which followed was an uneventful one. A little patrolling was done, but nothing more important than a dead Frenchman and a few rats was discovered. Further over to the right, however, there was considerable activity. It was during this tour that the Hooge mine went up, and the 14th Division was attacked with flammenwerfer.

To regain the ground thus lost to the enemy, the 6th Division was brought up. They attacked early on the morning of August 9th and carried all their objectives, but suffered heavy casualties in doing so. The 49th Division co-operated in this attack, though only in a passive way. Gaps were cleared in the wire, dummy bridges were laid over the canal, and artillery fired at intervals on the enemy front line, in an endeavour to distract the attention of the Germans from the real objective. The Battalion took no part in these activities, being in reserve on the Canal Bank at the time; but it suffered some casualties from the enemy barrage. Later in the day, Battalion H.Q. and B and C Companies were ordered up at short notice to relieve a corresponding portion of the 7th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s Regt. who were suffering from a sudden outbreak of ptomaine poisoning, which was so severe that about a hundred of them were sent to hospital. Two days later the other two companies of the 7th Battalion were also relieved.

The sector now occupied by the Battalion was called the Glimpse Cottage Sector, and was held with three companies in the front line and one in support. Two months later it was to be the scene of the Battalion’s first serious encounter with the enemy, and so a detailed description of it is held over until then. But the tour in August was also a very active one, and during it the Battalion suffered two serious losses. The first was R.S.M. J. McCormack, who was killed on August 12th. The second was even more serious, and is especially worthy of attention as a conspicuous example of gallantry and self-sacrifice.

Late in the afternoon of August 14th, a dugout in A Company’s line was blown in and a number of men were buried amid the wreckage. Capt. M. P. Andrews immediately hurried to the spot and, under heavy artillery and rifle fire, succeeded in extricating the men. Three were found to be dead and three wounded, one so seriously that, unless he could receive proper attention at once, there was little hope of his recovery. The trenches were too narrow for the wounded man to be carried along them on a stretcher. There was nothing for it but to carry him across the open. Capt. Andrews did not hesitate. Getting out on the top himself, he assisted to raise the wounded man, and then set out across the open with the stretcher party. He paid for his devotion with his life. The ground was swept by bullets and, before the party could reach the shelter of a communication trench, he was hit in the head and died almost at once. So perished one of the most gallant gentlemen and conscientious officers who ever served with the Battalion. Word of what had happened was despatched at once to Battalion H.Q., while the stretcher-bearers, true to their duty, remained in the open, trying in vain to stop the flow of blood. Lieut. B. Hughes, R.A.M.C., then Medical Officer to the Battalion, at once hurried up the line. But he was too late. Capt. Andrews was already dead. The event cast a gloom, not only over A Company, but over the whole Battalion.

About this time the Battalion transport was having a very rough passage, and they too soon recognised the difference between Ypres and Fleurbaix. Almost nightly, heavy shelling of the roads used by the ration convoys caused much inconvenience and some loss. On August 14th, in particular, two horses were hit and, for a time, the column was much disorganised. Cpl. E. Ashworth was in charge and, by his own gallantry and coolness under fire, he restored order and confidence, and was able to deliver his charge. For this he was afterwards awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal.

When next the Battalion went into Brigade Reserve it occupied a number of farms north-east of Brielen. Though not so safe as the shelters on the Canal Bank, these farms were more comfortable, and they did not suffer so much from enemy artillery fire. Work continued as before, a new feature being the erection of “elephant” frames in the Battalion’s new billets.

The next two tours in the front line were spent on the extreme left sector—a part of the line which the Battalion was to know only too well in later days, and to which the minds of most “old timers” turn when Ypres in 1915 is mentioned. It bore an ominous reputation. The trenches lay at the north of the Ypres bridge-head, where it flattened out to join the canal. On the extreme left a tiny sap ran out to a point only fifteen yards from the nearest enemy post. Nowhere was No Man’s Land more than sixty yards across. There was very little shelling of the front line by either side; the trenches were much too near together for this to be carried on without serious danger of injuring one’s own men; but the enemy used many trench mortars, some of which were of the real “minnie” type. There was also an enormous amount of bombing on both sides, for grenades could easily be lobbed from one front line to the other in several places. The trenches were very confusing—a result of the July attack which had taken place just before the 49th Division moved into the line near Ypres—and so narrow that in places a stout man could easily stick fast. Everywhere they were dominated by the enemy’s positions.

The French were on the Battalion’s left, but their line was on the west side of the canal and thus they were comparatively secure from sudden attack. They proved themselves very helpful and sympathetic neighbours. When they saw that the Battalion was having a bad time from enemy trench mortars they were always only too ready to help. They did not wait to be asked; they simply cleared all their men, save a skeleton garrison, into deep dugouts or the British support line, and then opened fire on the enemy with every type of infernal engine they had available. It always amused them to see the enemy turn his wrath from the British and start pounding their deserted lines. They were, at this time, much better supplied with trench mortars than the British, not to speak of their 75’s.

After two tours in this sector the Battalion went back for its second spell in Divisional Reserve. Casualties had been a good deal heavier than the Battalion had experienced previously, but the men had stuck to their work splendidly, and many instances of gallantry and devotion to duty brighten the otherwise sordid picture. The little sap on the extreme left was the main centre of activity and there trench-mortaring and bombing were almost continuous. It was constantly being damaged, and as frequently repaired; on one occasion a heavy trench mortar dropped right into it, causing six casualties. How near it was to the Germans is shown by the fact that, on August 26th, they were able to throw the following message from their lines into it:—

An hour or two after the arrival of this message loud cheering was heard in the enemy lines, presumably rejoicing at the news. During this tour Sec.-Lieut. W. L. Anderton was shot through the head and died almost immediately.

On August 26th, the Battalion moved back to the woods near Coppernollehoek for twelve days’ rest. A little more training was done this time, but large working parties were still the order of the day. Endeavours were made to smarten up the men; among other things the cleaning of buttons was instituted for the first time since the Battalion had left England. A somewhat novel duty was the rounding up of spies in the neighbourhood of Proven; this was entrusted to Capt. E. E. Sykes, with a party of forty-five other ranks. He was away for thirty-six hours, but no record has been preserved of what success, if any, he had. While near Coppernollehoek the Battalion was again inspected by General Plumer, who was accompanied by the Earl of Scarborough and Brigadier-General Mends. Probably the G.O.C., Second Army, noticed a change in the men whom he had reviewed about two months before; they were no longer light-hearted and cheery novices, but fully-blooded and hard-bitten veterans. A short time in the Ypres Salient had worked wonders. A sad loss to the Battalion about this time was Sergt. D. H. Fenton, who was accidentally killed by a bomb on the very day his commission was announced.

When the Battalion again returned to the line it took over the Turco Farm Sector, on the extreme right, abutting on the 6th Division. This was the best and quietest sector on the divisional front. In places No Man’s Land was several hundreds of yards across. Of course there was plenty of work to be done, but the trenches were, on the whole, good. After a quiet tour the Battalion came out to a new position on the Canal Bank. Here there was little shelling and the opportunity was seized to hold some swimming sports; D Company won the inter-company team race. During this period in Brigade Reserve, Lieut.-Colonel E. J. Pickering, formerly Brigade Major of the 148th Infantry Brigade, arrived to take command of the Battalion.

On September 21st, the Battalion returned to the Turco Farm Sector. The tour which followed is chiefly noteworthy for the events of September 25th—the day on which the battle of Loos began. No very serious operation was planned for the Ypres front, but a demonstration was arranged in the hope of distracting the enemy’s attention and drawing his reserves northwards. The 6th Division was to attack on the right and capture Bellewaarde Farm and Lake. At the same time the British artillery was to cut gaps in the German wire opposite the 4th Battalion, while a smoke screen was to be put up on both its flanks. It was hoped that this demonstration would cause the enemy to evacuate his front line, in which case the Battalion was to advance and seize the unoccupied trenches. At 4-30 a.m. the bombardment and smoke screen began. The enemy retaliation was quick and heavy. Shells rained down on the front line and the communication trenches; machine gun and rifle fire swept the ground. It was soon obvious that the Germans had no intention of evacuating any part of their trenches, and so no advance was attempted on the front of the 49th Division. By 7-30 a.m. the artillery fire on both sides had practically ceased. So far as the Battalion was concerned, the only results of the day were a number of casualties and much damage to the lines from the enemy bombardment.

The last days of September were spent at Elverdinghe, where Battalion H.Q. occupied the Chateau and officers and men were accommodated in tents in the grounds. Early in October a move was made to a camp by the Poperinghe-Woesten Road, where another period, very similar to the previous ones, was spent in Divisional Reserve. The Battalion had now been about three months in the Ypres Salient. During that time, in addition to the normal wastage through sickness, 120 casualties had been incurred in action. But far worse was in store. Before, however, entering on an account of the events of October 16th, and of the terrible wet months which culminated in the gas attack of December 19th, there are one or two points which deserve fuller treatment than they have yet received.

The high proficiency of the enemy in sniping has already been mentioned on more than one occasion. Gradually the Battalion came to realise that the most effective way of dealing with this form of annoyance was to adopt similar tactics. Luckily, the very man was to hand—Sergt. A. McNulty. A combination of all the qualities needed by a first-class sniper is rarely to be found in one individual; but this N.C.O. possessed them all to an exceptional degree. A magnificent rifle shot and a first-class observer, he had the patience of a Job, and was also an exceptionally good instructor. Before long there was little that he did not know about marksmanship, telescopic sights, the building of snipers’ posts, and observation. He constructed his own posts and waited in them patiently, hour after hour, for suitable targets. How many Germans he had to his credit, no one ever knew; it is more than doubtful whether he knew himself. But certain it is that the enemy had good reason to curse that Winchester of his, and he did much to counteract the hostile sniping which was menacing the Battalion so much. For a time he was taken away to be an instructor at the newly-formed Divisional Technical School, where his energies were not restricted to sniping. Among other things, he was one of the very few men who mastered the intricacies of that awful invention—the West Spring Gun. The Battalion had much to thank Sergt. McNulty for and, later in the war, when he went to America as an instructor—how the Americans ever understood his accent was beyond the Battalion—he was greatly missed.

Another feature of the period was the appearance of trench mortars. Almost from the very beginning of trench warfare the Germans had made use of these weapons and, so effective did they prove, that the British soon tried to imitate them. Their first attempts were very crude. The earliest trench mortars to appear in the line had, apparently, been dragged from the obscurity of some museum, and, needless to say, were not to be compared with the “minnie.” The two-inch trench mortar followed, firing its weird, round cannon-ball—affectionately known as a “plum-pudding”—on the end of a rod. Stokes guns were unknown at that early period.

(b) October 16th.

On October 14th, the Battalion relieved the 1/5th Battalion West Yorkshire Regiment in the Glimpse Cottage Sector, C Company going in on the right, A Company in the centre, and D Company on the left; B Company was in support. The main feature of the sector was a sharp salient in the enemy line, opposite the centre company front. From this salient an old communication trench—a relic of the days when both front lines had been part of the same system—crossed No Man’s Land to the British line. Both sides had established bombing blocks in this trench, and the locality was the main centre of activity on the front. Owing to folds in the ground, it was impossible to cover the sap-head by rifle fire; but machine guns fired into the dead ground and some two-inch trench mortars, in emplacements near by, helped to protect it. The sap-head itself was held by a squad of battalion bombers. It often received attention from enemy trench mortars.

The story goes that, a few days before the Battalion took over the sector, the enemy had started shelling the sap-head and the adjacent front line, and most of the garrison had withdrawn into the supervision trench, which ran about thirty yards in rear. Only a weak party had been left in the sap. The bombardment had been followed by a small daylight raid to secure a notice-board which had been hung out to announce some allied success. Whether there was any truth in the story cannot now be said.

The first two days of the tour were comparatively quiet. About 1-30 p.m. on October 16th, the enemy opened an intense artillery and trench mortar bombardment on the greater part of the Battalion area. It was soon apparent that something unusual was happening. Trench mortars were raining down near the sap-head, 5.9’s were whistling overhead and bursting in the supervision trench, shrapnel and high explosive were falling on practically the whole area, as far back as Battalion H.Q. Stand to was ordered at once. Two platoons of B Company were moved up into close support, and were employed carrying up bombs and ammunition. The garrison of the sap, on which point it was obvious that much of the enemy’s attention was directed, was reinforced. The men crouched down under their parapets—strict orders had been issued that there was to be no firing until the word was given—and waited for the enemy’s next move.

The situation was not a pleasant one. It is true that the majority of the shells were bursting behind the front line, but there were sufficient “shorts” to make things very uncomfortable. The wire was torn to shreds, parapets were breached, and many casualties were suffered, particularly by the two flank companies. It was the first time that the Battalion had had to stand a really heavy bombardment in the front line, and they came through it splendidly. For three hours they waited, while the shells crashed around them, longing for the moment when the enemy would appear and they would have the chance to “get a bit of their own back.” About 4-30 p.m. their opportunity came. A party of Germans, clad in fatigue dress, emerged from the trenches opposite and began calmly to cut a passage through their own wire, near the sap-head. This was too much for A Company. Perhaps it would have been better had fire been withheld a little longer, until an actual attack came. But no one thought of that at the time. Tired of his long inactivity under heavy shelling, every man was at once on the fire step working his bolt for all he was worth. Shells were still bursting all around, but none paid attention to them. There was the enemy in the open; nothing else mattered. And the wire-cutting part of the operation came to an abrupt conclusion.

By this time, the sap-head had been blown in by a well-directed shell. But the garrison, with whom the indefatigable company commander, Major R. E. Sugden, spent most of his time that day, simply extricated themselves from the debris and set to work to construct a fresh bombing block. Shortly after, the enemy made his next move. A party of Germans, about twenty in number, wearing bombing aprons filled with stick grenades, crawled up in the folds of the ground and began to bomb the sap-head. A brisk encounter ensued. Most of the German grenades fell short and the British proved that they could easily out-throw the enemy. With the assistance of a Maxim gun the attack was driven off with comparative ease, as were two further attacks of a similar character. About the time that the third was made, another party of the enemy was seen moving along a hedge row in the direction of the British line. Fortunately this move was detected early by the crew of a machine gun, which soon drove them to cover. All this time the bombardment continued.

About 6-0 p.m. the enemy apparently saw that success was impossible, and gradually the shelling died down. The Battalion was then able to review the situation and to count its casualties. These latter were heavy enough. Sec.-Lieut. E. Taylor, C.S.M. V. S. Tolley and twelve other ranks were killed, or died shortly after of wounds; Lieut. E. N. Marshall, Sec.-Lieut. F. A. Innes and twenty-two other ranks were wounded. Much damage had been done to the sap-head and to other parts of the line. The night which followed passed quietly, but there was much work to be done. To assist in this the 5th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s Regt. sent up a large working party, and also provided a number of stretcher-bearers to remove the wounded and the dead.

Compared with many later events in the history of the Battalion, this episode is of very minor importance. But, at the time, its importance loomed large in the eyes of all. It was the Battalion’s first real fight. After several months of passive warfare, the men had at length come face to face with the enemy in active operations. Nothing is harder than to maintain one’s morale when inactive under a heavy bombardment. But this the men had succeeded in doing. Three hours of intense shelling had only served to make them the more eager when their chance came. All ranks came through the ordeal with the greatest credit, and the hearty congratulations which were received from Brigade and Division were thoroughly deserved. For their gallant services on this occasion Sec.-Lieut. F. A. Innes—it was his first trench tour as he had only recently joined the Battalion—received the Military Cross, and Lance-Cpl. T. H. Clarke and Cpl. C. Landale were both awarded Distinguished Conduct Medals. Lance-Cpl. Clarke had been the N.C.O. in charge of the bombers in the sap-head, and had behaved with the greatest gallantry throughout the day. Cpl. C. Landale had worked untiringly on the telephone wires during the bombardment, and it was mainly due to him that communication between the front line and Battalion H.Q. was scarcely ever interrupted.

The object of the enemy in making this attack was never understood. Perhaps he expected the intensity of his bombardment would induce the Battalion to vacate its front line, and he would be able to occupy it with comparative ease. If the story of his daylight raid, a few days before, had any truth in it, he knew that the front line had been practically evacuated on that occasion, and may have expected similar tactics again. Certainly his heaviest shelling fell on the supervision trench. But, whatever his object, he found the Battalion alert and only too ready to meet him.

The next few days were very fully occupied in repairing the damage done by the enemy’s shells. So well was this work carried out that, at the end of the tour, the Battalion was able to hand over the line in as good a condition as it had been before October 16th. On the night of October 19/20th Lieut.-Col. E. J. Pickering was wounded. He had gone up with Major Sugden to inspect the wire, which had been put out by D Company. The enemy was only about 150 yards away at that point and evidently saw the party. They opened fire and the Commanding Officer was severely wounded in the right arm. He had only been with the Battalion about a month, but during that time he had done a lot to smarten it and he left a lasting impression on all ranks who served under him.

On October 21st, after a heavy trench-mortaring which destroyed several dugouts, the Battalion was relieved by the 1/4th Battalion King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry, and went back to the Canal Bank.

(c) The Wet Months.

Towards the end of October His Majesty the King visited Abeele, and there reviewed representatives of all the Divisions of the VI. Corps. To this review the Battalion sent a contingent[6] of twenty-five other ranks, under the command of Lieut. E. N. Marshall. Needless to say they were a carefully picked body of men, and it is worthy of note that the detachment from the 49th Division was specially commended by His Majesty for its smart turn-out that day.

At the end of the month the weather completely broke up and heavy rain became normal. The Battalion was in comparative comfort on the Canal Bank, but ominous reports soon began to come in from the units holding the line. Bad as these reports were, they were mild compared with the actual conditions under which the men were to exist for the next two months. On October 30th the Battalion relieved the 7th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s Regt. in the extreme left sector; and then began for it such a period of hardship and misery as it has never since been called upon to endure for so long a time.

In one way the telling of this part of the Battalion’s history is comparatively easy. During the earlier part of its stay in the Ypres Salient it had seldom done more than two tours in the same sector. But from the end of October, until it was finally relieved in December, the Battalion held no sector of the line except the extreme left; and, in every way, that sector was the worst on the divisional front. Its proximity to the opposing trenches, and the commanding position occupied by the Germans, have already been described. The trenches lay very little above the water level of the Ypres-Commines Canal and, as soon as the rains began, they naturally received much of the drainage from the Pilkem Ridge. They were badly sited and badly constructed. Consisting mainly of sandbag breast-works, they were the worst possible type to inhabit in wet weather. They had been considered the worst on the front during the fine weather; words cannot adequately describe what they became early in November.

When the Battalion took over the sector on October 30th the trenches were already in an appalling condition. The front line was in places more than two feet deep in semi-liquid mud, and parts of it were entirely isolated from neighbouring posts, except by cross-country routes; stretches of the communication trenches were waist deep in water. And this was the result of only about two days of steady rain! For the next two months the conditions gradually became worse and worse; occasional short frosts gave a little temporary relief, but the thaws which followed them only made the trenches more awful than before. Thoroughly undermined by water, the revetments bulged and caved in, literally before the eyes of the men. In a few days, hundreds of yards of trenches had become nothing but cavities filled with mud and water. The shelters of the sector had never been protection against anything but bullets and the weather. They ceased to be even that now. Water from the trenches overflowed into them and flooded the floors, their supports were undermined, and one by one they collapsed, often causing casualties to the men who occupied them, until scarcely a habitable one remained near the front line. The enemy made full use of his higher position. Pumping the water out of his own line, he allowed it to flow across No Man’s Land into the British line. Often the water was so deep in the trenches that thigh-boots became useless. Had there been a well-planned system of drainage, something might have been done. But it was only the coming of the rain that opened the eyes of the authorities to the condition of the sector, and the drainage scheme which was then started was never far enough advanced to be of much use while the 49th Division was there. What was to be done with the water? Most of it had to stop where it was. Occasionally it was possible to divert a little of it elsewhere—in some cases, it is feared, into other people’s lines. Only in one small trench on the extreme left could it be turned back into the enemy lines, and, in order to effect that desirable operation, the whole had to flow right along the British front line first.

The utter collapse, and consequent evacuation, of long stretches of the line considerably altered the method of holding it. Many of the posts were completely cut off from one another, except by movement across the open. Such movement was extremely hazardous by day, for the enemy snipers and machine gunners were only too ready to take advantage of the many opportunities which the new state of affairs gave them. With parapets sliding in and trenches filling, it was soon impossible for a man to move about in daylight without exposing himself. By night there was an additional danger. It required a man, with a very good sense of direction, to move over that area of water-logged and derelict trenches without losing his way. The case of Pte. T. Atkinson—the first prisoner the enemy secured from the Battalion—was a good illustration of this. In company with another man, he had successfully delivered rations to an isolated front line post, but, on the way back, the two disagreed about the direction of their own lines and separated, each going his own way. The other man rejoined his platoon in safety; Pte. Atkinson, apparently, walked straight across No Man’s Land into the arms of the enemy.

The greatest hardships were suffered by men who were wounded in the front line. If a man had the misfortune to be hit early in the day he could seldom be got away until after dark; often in great pain, and always under the most miserable conditions, he would have to wait for many hours before he could receive proper attention. Even when dusk came his lot was a most unenviable one. The journey to the Canal Bank often took two or three hours, and there was a good chance that he might be hit again before he arrived at the Aid Post, for machine gun fire swept the ground intermittently all night.

One important result of the new conditions was a great increase in patrolling. Now that large portions of the line were entirely deserted and posts were isolated from one another, this was very necessary, for at night the enemy could enter the trenches unseen almost as easily as the British could leave them. Most of this patrolling was purely defensive, but occasionally useful reconnaissances were made, one of which will be described in detail later. There was little opportunity for the men to show an offensive spirit. A little bombing was indulged in, but soon the general policy became one of “live and let live.” Had the enemy attempted an infantry advance the defence must have placed its main reliance on the bayonet; in that waste of mud rifles could not be kept properly clean, and few would have fired more than two or three rounds rapid.

Each company held a section of the front line, with two platoons in front and two in support. Usually these platoons inter-relieved every forty-eight hours, but towards the end of the time reliefs were sometimes carried out every twenty-four hours. The Battalion spent four days in the line and four in brigade reserve; these latter periods were sometimes passed on the Canal Bank and sometimes in the farm houses further back. While in brigade reserve every available man was kept hard at work in the forward area either on the new drainage scheme, or trying to clear some of the mud and water from the communication trenches. Only twice during the wet weather did the 147th Infantry Brigade have a spell in divisional reserve, and even then there was not much comfort. The prevailing bad weather had its effect on the back area camps and they were soon deep in mud. Much work was done to improve them. Early in November a number of wattle and mud huts were put up in place of some of the tents; some wooden huts were also in course of erection. When the Battalion came back to the same camp at the end of the month they found things more comfortable, for the work had been continued and accommodation improved. But, at the best, it was a poor form of rest for men who had just spent sixteen days in the forward area, and were looking forward to another spell of the same kind.

Everything possible was done for the men’s comfort, but, at first, the available supplies of suitable stores were quite inadequate. Until the wet weather began, no one seems to have dreamed of the conditions which would prevail during the winter. At the beginning of November thigh-boots were almost non-existent, though, later, sufficient were available to equip every man. However, the communication trenches were so bad that frequently men lost their boots on the way up to the line. It was no uncommon thing for a man to stick so fast in the mud that he had to be dragged out by his companions, often leaving his boots behind. He would then have to complete his journey in his socks; sometimes he might find a spare pair of boots when he arrived in the front line. Dry socks were always available for men in support, but they could seldom be supplied to men in the front line. Foot grease was provided and periodical foot-rubbing ordered; but how could the men obey the order? Seldom could a man in the line find a dry spot to sit down on while he removed his boots. The result was soon apparent in the enormous number of trench feet which developed; during November, 1915, no less than 146 other ranks were sent to hospital for this cause alone. Sheep-skin coats were provided and proved a great boon. There was plenty of rum—more than during any subsequent winter. Every effort was made to provide hot food and drink, but the difficulties of getting it to the companies before it was cold were almost insuperable. Any attempt to light a fire was bound to draw the attention of the hostile artillery or trench mortars, and so only “Tommy’s Cookers” could be used.

Such were the conditions under which the Battalion held the line in the November and December of 1915. For utter misery they have only been equalled once—on the Passchendaele Ridge in December, 1917—and then for a much shorter period. A man had a ghastly prospect in front of him when his turn came to form part of a front line garrison for forty-eight hours. For all that time he would be thoroughly soaked and terribly cold; his boots would be full of water, he would stand in water and mud; physical pain, mental weariness and bodily fatigue would be his constant burden. The chances were that he would not complete his tour of duty—that before his time was up he would succumb to the enemy snipers, or be on his way to hospital, a physical wreck. One example is sufficient to show what appalling casualties were suffered during this period. About the beginning of December, an officer of the Battalion took up twenty-four other ranks for a forty-eight hour tour of duty in the front line. At the end of that time he brought out with him one signaller and three other ranks. Every other man had become a casualty.

But what of the spirit of the men of the Battalion during this time? How did they bear their hardships? Many writers have paid tribute to the gallantry of British troops in battle, but few have written of the heroism of those who held the line under such conditions as the 4th Battalion did in the autumn of 1915. The soldier in battle has excitement, and a good deal of exhilaration, to help him through; but the Yorkshiremen who faced the enemy near Boesinghe in 1915 had neither of these. Theirs was heroism of a far higher order—the heroism which, with no excitement to buoy them up, can make men coolly and quietly face horror and death in their worst forms. Such men as Kipling must have been thinking of when he wrote,