They were MEN, were those of the 4th Battalion, who held the line in 1915. Men of the quiet, tight-lipped and dogged type, who talked little, though occasional flashes of humour brighten even this ghastly picture, but simply obeyed orders without question and held on. Perhaps their feelings can best be expressed by quoting the remark of one of them, when on short leave from that hell. “Well, sir, we either have to laugh or cry, and we prefer to laugh.”

Few specific events of this period need be recorded. On November 9th Lieut.-Col. G. K. Sullivan, formerly Adjutant of the 1/5th Batt. King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry, assumed command of the Battalion. His stay was a very brief one. Eleven days after his arrival he was wounded by a shell splinter on the Canal Bank. As Major E. P. Chambers had been sent to hospital with a sprained ankle the previous day, Major R. E. Sugden assumed command of the Battalion until the arrival of Lieut.-Col. E. G. St. Aubyn. The latter had been second in command of a battalion of the King’s Royal Rifle Corps in the 14th Division. Though always in weak health, he retained command of the Battalion for nearly a year. He was a very quiet, but exceptionally competent, Commanding Officer, who earned the respect of all, and the most sincere affection of those who knew him best.

On the night of December 11/12th, Sec.-Lieut. W. N. Everitt, with Sergt. Kitchen, carried out an extremely daring and highly successful patrol. The glow of a light had been noticed at a particular point in the enemy line, and they made straight towards it. No Man’s Land was not more than sixty yards across but it was no mean obstacle, owing to its water-logged condition. The enemy wire was very thick and difficult to negotiate but, after much trouble, the two found themselves at the foot of the enemy parapet. Leaving his companion at the bottom, Everitt carefully crawled up the parapet and looked into the enemy trench. He found it to be deeper, better revetted and much drier than the British trenches were. Slowly he moved along the parapet, examining the trench at different points. At length he reached the place where the glow had been observed and suddenly found himself looking into the corner of a bay, almost exactly at the point where an enemy sentry was standing. As he looked the German raised his rifle, and Everitt slid gently down the parapet. He had not been observed, but the chance shot of the sentry passed only just over his head. He had now seen all he could. The light was explained; it came from a brazier which evidently warmed a shelter hollowed out of the traverse near which the sentry was posted. Two or three Germans were warming themselves round it. There was nothing more the patrol could do. With a thick wire obstacle behind and only one man to support him, it would have been suicidal for Everitt to attempt anything against the enemy post. Besides, his orders were to make a reconnaissance, and the information he had gained would be useless if he did not return to report it. So, regretfully, he turned his back on the enemy, and succeeded in reaching his own line without being discovered. This patrol caused a good deal of stir in the Brigade, for no previous patrol had got so far. It had obtained very valuable information about the condition of the enemy trenches, and had proved that the Germans were very much on the alert. All agreed that the Military Cross, which Sec.-Lieut. W. N. Everitt afterwards received for his work that night, was thoroughly well earned.

On December 12th Major R. E. Sugden was severely wounded in the arm by a bullet. The bridges over the Canal were always dangerous spots. Not only were they well marked by the enemy artillery, but machine guns, posted further to the north, could fire straight down the Canal in enfilade. It was while he was crossing one of these bridges that Major Sugden was hit. He had served continuously with the Battalion since it had been mobilised and his loss was greatly felt.

(d) December 19th.

The enemy first made use of poison gas in the spring of 1915, about the time the Battalion landed in France. On that occasion he employed pure chlorine, but in so weak a concentration that the results were not nearly so disastrous as they might have been. After this first trial—it was probably more an experiment than anything else—he made no use of gas on a large scale for several months. This was fortunate, for it gave allied scientists time to study the whole problem and to devise means of protection, not only against chlorine, but against other harmful gases also. It is true that anti-gas measures were far from perfect at the end of 1915. But the allied armies were better prepared for that form of attack than they would have been had they had no preliminary warning. In particular, the possibility of the enemy using phosgene had been guarded against by the introduction of the P.H. helmet. This was a considerable advance; its two stout glass eye-pieces were a great improvement on the single mica window of the P. helmet, and the outlet valve made it much less stuffy and more comfortable to wear.

There is no doubt that, about the beginning of December, some rumour that the enemy was soon to try a second gas attack on the Ypres Salient had filtered through to the British. One of the reasons for the patrol of Sec.-Lieut. W. N. Everitt, already described, was to discover whether any gas cylinders were in position in the enemy lines. New P.H. helmets had been issued to all the men in the Battalion, but, as the available supply only admitted of one per man, a P. helmet was still carried as a reserve. Much gas helmet drill had been done, and all ranks were warned to be specially on the alert.

On December 17th, the Battalion relieved the 6th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s Regt. in the extreme left sector. All knew that this was to be their last tour in the line for the time being and that, on relief, they were to go back for a long period of rest. At night patrols were very active on the Battalion front, on the look-out for indications of the presence of gas cylinders. They reported much hammering in the enemy lines and, on the night of December 18/19th, a great deal of coughing. A raid was contemplated, but that never came off. Much work was in progress, for attempts were being made to put the trenches into better condition for the relieving unit. Working parties from the 6th Division, which was then in Corps Reserve, came up nightly to assist; and the Battalion was also engaged in putting out a great deal of wire on its front.

A special artillery “shoot” had been arranged for the early morning of December 18th. This, it was hoped, would not only damage the enemy trenches, but would also destroy any gas cylinders which were in position for an offensive. As the opposing trenches were so near together, the enemy front line could not be bombarded without grave risk to the British themselves. Hence, it was arranged that the Battalion should evacuate its front line at 5-0 a.m. and not reoccupy it until the next night. This was done, but the bombardment did not come off as the morning was too misty for satisfactory observation. So similar arrangements were made for the next day.

The night of December 18/19th was comparatively quiet. It was bright and clear, with a gentle breeze blowing from the north-east—in every way ideal weather for an enemy gas discharge. About 5-0 a.m. on the morning of December 19th all front line platoons, except those of A Company, began to withdraw according to plan. Many had actually reached their positions for the day when, at 5-30 a.m., flares suddenly shot up all along the enemy lines. Whether they were red or green is a matter for dispute among those who saw them; but the point is not important. They were evidently a signal for the attack to begin. Immediately, what is described by survivors as a “sizzing” noise was heard, a greenish-white cloud appeared over the enemy parapet and began to drift towards the British lines, and a terrific bombardment with artillery and trench mortars was opened on the Canal, the British communication trenches and reserve positions. Within a few minutes every bridge, except one, was shattered, great damage had been done to the trenches, and every telephone line was broken. And over all drifted that deadly cloud.

Many men were caught in their shelters and gassed before they could be alarmed. Others were caught on their way back from the line and suffered terribly. A Company just managed to get the one word “gas” over the ’phone before the line to Battalion H.Q. broke. But soon gongs and horns were crashing out their warning, while men frenziedly adjusted their helmets, seized their arms, and rushed to their battle positions. There was hurry and confusion almost everywhere, but panic nowhere. Indeed, that day there was not a single case of straggling in the 49th Division.

Fortunately, the British artillerymen were thoroughly on the alert. They were standing to their guns ready for the pre-arranged shoot and, probably for the first time in their experience, they had more shells than they could fire. They saw the S.O.S., they heard the alarms, and soon they themselves were surrounded by the gas. With helmets on they worked their guns as they had never had the chance of working them before. The storm of projectiles which descended on the German lines must have taught the enemy that his age of artillery predominance was near its end. Warning had been sent to the 6th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s Regiment, which was in Brigade Reserve, and before long it appeared, moving up across the open. The enemy saw it too and put down a barrage in its way. But the men came forward splendidly and were soon manning their battle stations on the west bank of the canal.

Meanwhile, the Battalion was bearing the full force both of the gas and of the enemy bombardment. The men who had been warned in time were unharmed by the gas, for the P.H. helmet proved a very effective protection. But many men had been gassed before they could do anything, and among them the sights were ghastly. They lay in agony on the ground, sickly greenish-white in colour; they foamed at the mouth and gasped for breath; some even tore open their own throats in the paroxysms of their pain. None who saw these sights can ever forget them, and none will ever forgive the enemy who first made use of such fiendish means of destruction. Among them moved Capt. S. S. Greaves, the Battalion Medical Officer; none worked more devotedly that day than he, and many a man owed his life to him.

Several distinct discharges of gas were made. They seemed to come about once every twenty minutes. Probably the enemy hoped that some men, thinking all was over, would have removed their helmets. About 7-0 a.m. the attack ended, but the air was not clear enough for helmets to be removed with safety until half-an-hour later. Indeed, in some parts of the trenches, the gas lay about the whole day and all through the next night. Intermittent enemy shelling continued all day and the British fire did not slacken for hours. After their terrible ordeal of the early morning all the men were very “jumpy,” and false alarms were frequent. But no more attacks came on the front of the 49th Division, though a fresh discharge was made against the French further north, about 9-0 a.m.

Some account must now be given of A Company, which was holding the extreme left of the Battalion sector. Two platoons were in the front line—in F34 and F35 respectively, as the trenches were commonly called—one platoon near Company H.Q., and a fourth in dugouts on the west side of the canal. Sec.-Lieut. W. N. Everitt was in command in F34 and Sergt. A. Stirzaker in F35, each isolated from the other and from Company H.Q. except by highly dangerous routes across the open. Like the other front line troops they were to have withdrawn in the early morning, but, as they had not so far to go, they had not moved off so soon. Hence, they were still in their positions when the gas discharge started, and helmets were adjusted so promptly that not a man was gassed. It was obvious at once that their duty was to remain in and defend the front line, and this each of the commanders decided to do. Everitt succeeded in getting a message over the ’phone to Company H.Q. just before the line was broken; he then stood to with his men and opened rapid fire until their rifles were red hot. Sergt. Stirzaker kept his men carefully in hand and allowed no firing; his numbers were very small and he feared that, by opening fire, he would only be giving away this fact to the enemy. Everitt’s message and the gas arrived at Company H.Q. almost simultaneously, and many of the support platoon were gassed before any warning could be given. Lieut. E. N. Marshall immediately collected every available man and set off with them to reinforce the garrison of the front line. Half he sent across to F34, but most of these became casualties before they reached the comparative safety of that position; the remainder he led himself up to F35. Then followed a weary period of waiting. Harassed by enemy fire and surrounded by gas, in almost complete ignorance of the situation but expecting an enemy attack at any moment, they hung on.

It was long before they had any news from outside. At length Lieut. Marshall decided to send a messenger to Battalion H.Q. The way lay across ground which was swept by machine gun fire; only one bridge was left over the canal and that was being heavily shelled. It required no mean courage to volunteer for such a mission. Just then Pte. W. Bancroft crawled into F35 with a report from Sec.-Lieut. W. N. Everitt. This man knew well the dangers of the journey for he had been with Sec.-Lieut. W. E. Hinton, when the latter had been wounded on that very ground only a few days before. Yet, as soon as he heard what was wanted, he offered to take the message. He reached Battalion H.Q. unhurt, delivered his message, and supplemented it with a very clear report of his own. He then returned to Lieut. Marshall with a cheery message from the Commanding Officer, and afterwards crawled back to his post in F34. Few Distinguished Conduct Medals have been better earned than the one he received for his gallantry on this occasion.

The day came to an end at length and, with the darkness, came relief. The 6th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s Regt. had volunteered to take over A Company’s front, so that the latter might spend a night in comparative peace near Battalion H.Q. The relieving troops were not equipped for a tour in such a line; they had come up that morning in fighting order, and they had no thigh-boots. Nevertheless, they carried out the relief. The following night the rest of the Battalion was relieved, and the whole moved back to near Elverdinghe.

On December 19th the enemy made practically no attempt to follow up his gas discharge and bombardment by an infantry attack. Small patrols were reported at one or two points further to the south, but no German infantry was seen on the Battalion front. Probably, the heavy barrage put down by the British artillery, and the resolute front shown by the few men of A Company deterred the enemy from making an attack. The gas he used that day was a mixture of chlorine and phosgene—far more deadly than the plain chlorine of his earlier attack.

The casualties suffered by the Battalion on December 19th were very heavy, particularly when it is remembered how low its fighting strength was at the time. The majority were due to gas, but the bombardment also claimed many victims. Sec.-Lieuts. J. A. Hartley and F. W. O. Fleming, R.S.M. C. C. MacKay and thirty-seven other ranks were killed, or died within the next few days. Lieut. E. N. Marshall, C.S.M. E. Walsh and about forty other ranks were wounded, or suffering severely from gas poisoning. It was a fitting climax to the ghastly months which had preceded it.

The cool courage and the steadiness of the 49th Division on December 19th were fully appreciated by all who knew what the men had had to endure. Congratulations from the higher authorities soon began to flow in. “The coolness of the troops saved the Army from a disaster,” wrote the G.O.C. VI. Corps. A few days later he expressed himself again, in no uncertain terms, in a private letter to the Divisional Commander:—

The Battalion may justly claim a considerable share of this praise.

And so the Battalion’s first stay in the Ypres Salient came to an end. It had arrived at the beginning of July, inexperienced and practically unknown. It left towards the end of December with a magnificent reputation. But it had paid the price. There, in the vicinity of Ypres, the original Battalion, which had mobilised, trained, and gone out to fight, was disbanded. Its men were scattered in a dozen cemeteries and scores of hospitals.