1918 Read online

  Whatever the reality of British combined arms tactics, however, the threat of them, and in particular of tanks, undoubtedly destabilized the German defence. Tanks were neither in fact nor potentially the war-winning weapon that apostles of armour such as J. F. C. Fuller and Basil Liddell Hart claimed between the wars. But neither were they an irrelevance, as some, such as the British official historian, have claimed.18 Tanks posed two particular threats to the Germans. First, they could cut barbed wire for the infantry, removing the need for a preparatory bombardment and so reintroducing the possibility of surprise. Second, the mobile firepower they offered, and the moral impact they had on defending infantry, helped the attacker break through relatively quickly and gave him the chance of overrunning German artillery positions. There was a solution to both problems, however, and the Germans were quick to find it. The most effective way of knocking out enemy tanks was to position field guns in forward positions where they could engage them over open sights. By mid-September at least a third of German field artillery was deployed forward in this way and succeeded in inflicting heavy losses on British armoured units. By October the Tank Corps had lost nearly half the men, and 130 per cent of the tanks, with which it had begun the campaign.19 The proximity of anti-tank guns also stiffened the morale of the infantry in the front line and prevented ‘tank panic’. Solving one problem merely created others, however. Guns detached to the front line were very vulnerable to being overrun by infantry assault, especially when visibility was poor. Losses were consequently high. The other problem was that the guns left to the rear were not only fewer in number, but often deployed further back to reduce the risk of being captured by a tank break-in. Inevitably the artillery could not deliver the same weight of indirect fire support any longer, weakening the defensive barrage, leaving the infantry feeling abandoned and so undermining their morale in a different way. The failure of the German Army to identify, and alter its tactics to reflect, the declining British armour threat from October onwards is an excellent example of the rigidity of its responses by this stage of the war.

  The German Army did not spontaneously lose the ability to think straight in 1918. The main cause of its cognitive breakdown was enemy pressure. The speed and violence of the Allied offensive exhausted not only the material and moral, but also the mental capacity of the German Army to react and exposed its underlying weaknesses. Its rigid and overcentralized response stands in contrast to the flexibility demonstrated by the BEF. The German command structure ossified further with every setback, while the British one became more relaxed as confidence grew they were on the right track. This is clearest in British attempts to decentralize decision-making in an effort to improve reaction times and increase tempo. Having passed through a phase of centralized restrictive command in the structured and carefully choreographed set-piece battles of 1916–17, the BEF in 1918 began to move to delegate more authority, allowing the ‘man on the spot’ the maximum possible initiative. This did not always work: many commanders at all levels found it hard to adjust to the looser command arrangements semi-mobile warfare demanded. Some, inevitably, used to receiving or issuing dozens of pages of neatly typed instructions, never grew comfortable with verbal briefings later corroborated by a few paragraphs scribbled in pencil on a page torn out of a notebook. Senior commanders proved as reluctant to relinquish control as junior ones were to assume responsibility. Nonetheless, overall, greater delegation was one factor underpinning a tempo of operations much faster than anything previously achieved on the Western Front.

  This delegation was partly the result of a higher level of expertise throughout the whole BEF. As Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson argued in their seminal work on Sir Henry Rawlinson, the importance of higher command withered away.20 But it was as much a reassertion of traditional values as a reaction to new realities. Also at work was the British Army’s pre-war principle of letting the ‘man on the spot’ get on with it.21 Active service all over the globe, frequently dispersed in small units with very poor or non-existent communications, placed a premium on initiative in the Victorian and Edwardian army and reinforced an even older tradition of gentlemanly independence dating far back in the army’s history. Officers were expected to do the right thing without having to be told. Such expectations were perhaps unrealistic with the inexperienced men of 1915–16, and in any case the intricate choreography of the set-piece trench battles of the war’s middle years militated against allowing individuals much leeway. As the fighting lost structure in 1918, tried and tested commanders were once more, within limits, accorded some of the autonomy their predecessors had been used to on the frontiers of Empire.

  The traditional ethos of the British Army reasserted itself in another important manner: its approach to learning and adaptation. We saw above that the BEF had got better at fighting and learning by 1918, but that it did not always either fully internalize or implement the lessons it had learnt. The efficiency with which information was disseminated around the organization varied widely and some units seem to have been unable to process new information sufficiently well to change their approach. It is certainly possible to see the British Army of 1914–18 as a very imperfect learning organization incapable of generating uniform change in any systematic fashion. At first sight, the British certainly look haphazard next to the French and, especially, German armies, both of which employed a more centralized process within which the centre played a much more active role in promoting adaptation. Modern Anglo-American military analysts have also become accustomed to seeing innovation implemented in a centralized and process-heavy way due to the very particular requirements of post-war NATO interoperability, where innovation was often led by the very large US military, and where clarity and uniformity were essential if troops from many different countries were to work together in mutually predictable ways. Again, the British Army of World War I can seem amateurish by such standards. It is questionable, however, whether such standards are appropriate. The British Army had a long tradition of laissez-faire in the spheres of tactics and doctrine. Pre-1914, within broad and generally accepted principles of war, it preferred to leave as much latitude as possible to commanding officers to train the men they would lead into action, rather than impose centrally devised programmes. The flexibility this engendered seemed better suited to the wide range of environments British soldiers were likely to find themselves operating in than the uniformity instilled in the conscript armies almost exclusively designed to fight on the continent. It also fed into the way British officers tended to perceive themselves as pragmatists and skilled improvisers. In a distaste for theory and prescriptive rules they saw one of the features which set themselves apart from their French and German counterparts, who seemed, in contrast, keen on abstract ideas, elaborate doctrine, and programmatic solutions.22 Between 1914 and 1918 the tension between central and local solutions to problems was a feature common to all three armies’ experience. It certainly remained unresolved in the British case but the BEF tended to allow more free play to the periphery than its allies or enemy, and there were times in 1918 where this helped, rather than hindered, operations. As a result, the British proved a sometimes unpredictable opponent. The Germans, however, were not. Indeed, British ‘bite and hold’ tactics were designed precisely to chew up the German counter-attacks which were bound to come in as soon as ground was lost.

  The British Army in 1918 was able to combine modern techniques with traditional values and strengths to good effect. The best way to demonstrate this general truth is to study the particular; the operation carried out by 46th (North Midland) Division to seize crossings over the St Quentin Canal and break into the Hindenburg Line on 29 September.

  Case Study: 46th Division attacks the Hindenburg Line23

  This case study is an excellent example of how far the British Army had come, not least because this was a division with an, at best, extremely average reputation. A Territorial Force formation, it was felt to have performed poorly at Loos in October 1915 and during t
he diversionary attack at Gommecourt on 1 July 1916. It was primarily used to hold the line thereafter until it marched south to join the Fourth Army’s IX Corps and was committed to the huge set-piece battle to break the Hindenburg Line.

  The divisional commander, G. F. Boyd, was typical of the tough-minded, talented, and experienced officers who had come through by 1918. He had been commissioned from the ranks during the Boer War and flourished as an officer. The confidential report his CO wrote on Boyd in 1913 described him as

  loyal, cool, self-reliant. He possesses in a marked degree the valuable characteristic of a good staff-officer in dealing with many minor matters on his own initiative without giving offence, and at the same time keeping me informed where necessary. He is very quick, thorough and active in mind and body. A good horseman. He has considerable professional knowledge, which he is able to apply very quickly and accurately in the form of orders. I have formed a high opinion of his character and capabilities and would be glad to have him with me on service. I recommend him for accelerated promotion.

  Accelerated promotion was definitely what he got. A captain in 1914, after successful service as a staff officer at brigade, division, and corps level, he was given brigade command in July 1918 and two months later was promoted to major general. He was clearly an impressive soldier. His confidential report at the end of the war spoke of his being ‘a disciplinarian, a tremendous worker, at all times cheerful and optimistic … and he can, and does, breathe his own indomitable spirit into his men’. ‘Major-General G F Boyd had a most attractive personality’, recalled a regimental historian who served under him.

  He was young. He was handsome … He had a smile for everyone. He had a brain like lightning and an imagination as vivid … When the 46th Division was placed in his hands he seized it as an expert swordsman seizes a priceless blade. This was just the weapon he had been looking for. He would wield it as it had never been wielded before. He would breathe his luck upon it; with it he would leap to victory.24

  After the war he rose to Military Secretary and might have gone further, had he not died young. Above Boyd, the commander of IX Corps, Walter Braithwaite, was similarly highly rated by this stage of the war, having commanded the 62nd (West Yorkshire Division) to good effect for nearly two years before his promotion.

  Along half of Rawlinson’s Fourth Army front the canal ran in a tunnel. American and Australian troops were to strike here. Further south, though, the canal, 35 feet across, ran in places between banks up to 50 feet high and contained water or mud six feet deep. It was the job of 46th Division’s 137th Brigade to fight forwards 1,000 yards, through well-wired German trenches and machine-gun posts, to reach the west bank of the canal, cross under fire, clear the far bank and the village of Bellenglise, and establish a bridgehead for the other two brigades of the division to then pass through and exploit, before they in turn were leapfrogged by another division. Over 3,000 life-belts and rafts were requisitioned from cross-Channel leave steamers to help men float or swim across the canal. A brick bridge, wide enough for a horse and cart, which the Germans had left intact at Riqueval to help supply their men on the west bank, would be the focus of special attention, as we shall see.

  The 137th Brigade was made up of Staffordshiremen and commanded by Brigadier General J. V. Campbell, 41 years old. He had won the DSO and been mentioned in dispatches twice in South Africa while still in his twenties. He was awarded the Victoria Cross for his leadership of a battalion of Coldstream Guards at the battle of Ginchy on 15 September 1916, where he achieved fame as the ‘Tally-Ho V.C.’ for using his hunting horn to rally his men. Daunting as the task now facing his men was, they had four advantages. First, the intelligence picture was as full as could be hoped. Detailed plans of the German defences in this sector had been captured during the battle of Amiens and the British positions overlooked the German defences and the canal. Second, on the brigade’s right flank, where the canal bent eastwards, the guns of 1st Division would be able to support the attack on Bellenglise village. Third, the preparatory artillery bombardment in places had broken down the walls of the cutting in which the canal ran, creating ramps down which troops could reach the water relatively easily. Lastly, when they advanced to the attack at 0550hrs on 29 September, they did so through thick fog which masked their advance and reduced the effectiveness of German firepower.

  Covering the infantry attack were eight brigades of field artillery and three battalions of machine guns. One shell fell every four yards of front every minute for eight hours.25 They delivered ‘a barrage which was one of the finest under which troops have ever advanced during the war’, mixing smoke, gas, high explosive, and shrapnel which kept the Germans in their dugouts while heavy artillery targeted known enemy strongpoints, headquarters, and reinforcement routes.26 The three battalions of 137th Brigade swept forwards, catching the defenders by surprise and overrunning many before they had a chance to get out of their dugouts and man their defences. Moving with speed and resolution, all three reached the west bank with relatively little trouble. On the right, 1/6th Battalion South Staffordshire Regiment found the canal largely dry. They rushed across it in the fog, overwhelming the machine guns on the east bank, stormed a German trench line, and seized the village of Bellenglise. They captured more than 1,000 enemy troops who were sheltering in a tunnel nearby.

  In the centre, the canal was full of water so the men of 1/5th Battalion, South Staffordshire Regiment, had to swim across. In thick fog, small-unit leadership proved crucial: Corporal A. E. Ferguson, for example, led a party of 15 men which captured 98 Germans and ten machine guns. Meanwhile Sergeant W. Cahill, who could not swim, struggled across the canal somehow and captured the four enemy machine guns holding up the advance in his sector. Eventually, the battalion was across and advanced to its objective on schedule.

  On the left, one of the tasks assigned to 1/6th Battalion, North Staffordshire Regiment, was to seize intact the bridge at Riqueval, a mission delegated to Captain Arthur Humphrey Charlton’s A Company. Humphrey Charlton was born in 1892, the son of the vicar of Abbots Bromley in Staffordshire. He was a farmer by occupation who had emigrated to Canada in 1911. When war broke out he returned to England and volunteered in December 1914, joining the Army Veterinary Corps as a private soldier, with special responsibility for horses. He had been commissioned in November 1915 and by 1918 was an experienced soldier and officer. As his men advanced down a ravine leading to the bridge they came under fire from a machine gun on the western bank. At once, Charlton charged the machine gun with a party of nine men. Lance Corporal J. Smith from Burton-on-Trent bayoneted the machine-gun crew, whereupon Charlton charged the bridge itself. German pioneers and a couple of sentries who had been sheltering in their blockhouse, ready to blow the bridge, came racing out just as Charlton and his men arrived. Lance Corporal F. Openshaw, a Royal Engineer from Bury, killed two Germans and took the surrender of a third while Charlton cut the wires and threw the demolition charges into the water. He had captured the Riqueval Bridge in under half an hour. Engineers set to work at once to reinforce it. A Company then drove through the trenches east of the canal, taking 130 prisoners in a single trench. By 0830hrs, after two and a half hours of combat, all objectives had been achieved and 137th Brigade had taken some 2,000 prisoners at a cost of 25 officers and 555 men. The tanks promised in support had not been able to fight their way through the German lines in the Australian sector around Bellicourt. For his achievement, Humphrey Charlton was awarded the DSO. A few days later he also won the MC. Openshaw received the DCM and Smith a bar to his DCM.

  At least as impressive as 46th Division’s tactical achievement was its operational-level follow-up. As soon as 137th Brigade began to consolidate its hold on its objectives that morning, 138th and 139th brigades began moving through to continue the attack. The fog which had helped the assault waves proved a considerable hindrance to the traffic controllers trying desperately to get the right men and materiel to the right places when no one could see
where they were going and when communications, as always during a World War I advance, collapsed. Nonetheless, by 1400hrs 46th Division had achieved all its objectives and 32nd Division in turn began to pass through and continue the push. The Hindenburg Line was not quite broken that day, but IX Corps made a big dent in it and helped set Fourth Army, and the BEF in general, up for the victories that followed. The British had plenty of men and supplies, and had worked out how to feed them in to battle to maintain a fast tempo of operations. The same could not be said of the Germans, who were continually being asked to do more and more with less and less until eventually they found they could no longer do anything at all.