CAMBRAI REHEARSALS

NOVEMBER, 1917

Uproar was rampant in one of D. Company’s huts. Mingled laughter and arguments formed the base of a volume of sound materially assisted in high note effect by the banging of spoons on mess tins.

“An’ now listen agin,” said Tich, commanding and obtaining silence by turning over his “Press”, “some more exemptions. Just listen to this ‘ere summary. Six months’ renewable. Six months ’ere again. An’’ere’s a poor blighter wots only got three months. Wot are the Tribunals doin’ to give ’im so short a time before ’e goes to the cruel wars?” He paused to join in the ironical outburst that ensued and continued at the top of his lungs: “There are twenty cases ‘ere an’ eighteen of ’em ’as some more extensions. I ask you, boys, are they playin’ fair to us at ’ome?”

“No! No! No!” in mighty chorus.

“But do we want them chaps out ’ere?”

“No!”

“They would disgrace the Bat.?”

“Yes!”

“Becos they ain’t got any guts in ’em?”

“No!”

One of the two Guernsey scouts from Headquarters pushed open the door and in the general pause said:

“Heard the latest?”

“Now, no funny games,” Tich ejaculated.

“Not at all. We’re going up the line again.”

“Oh, ’ell,” said Nabo, “wot for?”

“Stunt. Another Big Push.”

“Oh, ’ell,” repeated Nabo; “‘ere, scout, goin’ back to H.Q.?”

“Yes.”

“Then tell ’em I’m indisposed ain’t ‘ad a long enough rest yet. An’, ’ere, lets ’ave a fag. Wot with that there news and my bad ’eart for war....”

Nothing is left to chance in the offensive movements undertaken by that unparalleled fighting mechanism disposed of in two words: British Army. In following out the general scheme of perfecting every minor detail, the Cambrai attack had more than its share of elaborate preparation. Beyond the fact that a “Push” was to be inaugurated upon an entirely new and experimental form of advance, nothing was disclosed even to the men. The utter importance of maintaining absolute secrecy of this meagre information was earnestly reiterated. The slightest inkling of the impending intentions escaping to Fritz would have cast upon the troops engaged a disaster perhaps unequalled in the annuals of even this Armaggedon.

Following customary procedure the offensive was rehearsed mile for mile even as in the actual undertaking; aeroplanes being allotted to Divisions for scouting and observation.

The whole cycle of operations outlined by the G.H.Q. can be briefly summarised as follows: The entire movement of troops, guns, and tanks by night and to remain under cover from enemy ’planes during daylight. An abrupt massing on a nine-mile front of the engaging force during the night prior to launching of tanks and infantry. A furious bombardment would be opened by artillery at daybreak. Three tanks per Battalion moving forward would crush gaps in the enemy barbed wire through which advancing lines of infantry would pour into the Fritz trenches. The forward movement throughout the day to be carried on in relays of three Divisions, the final Division attaining and digging in as its objective. The Ten Hundred, forming the place of honour on the left flank of the 29th Division had to carry an objective situated, of all difficult places, on the crest of a long rise in the ground Nine Wood.

At Brigade Headquarters a huge map was built on the ground complete to the most minute of details. From aero photographs the entire area, confined to the activities of the 86th was plainly portrayed for inspection and explanation to the Platoons. Fritz trenches, wire, observation posts, lines of support and communication; the rise and fall of the ground; villages; were all emphasised upon until Tommy became to a certain degree familiar with the ground over which Fritz had to be bundled back five miles in one day. Points where, possibly, a stubborn resistance might be offered were indicated and the advisability of avoiding open breaks in enemy wire constantly reiterated. (Obviously, if openings are voluntarily left here and there in the second line of wire, to one cogent factor only can such procedure be attributed, i.e., men will for preference make in a body for a clear passage and machine guns trained from the rear into these breaches would account for a hundred or so casualties before the men realised a trap.)

To merely undertake an offensive “on paper” only would be fatuous. Actual rehearsal over country as similar as possible to the original has to be carried out; villages and towns having to be “imagined” on the training area in the very position they filled on the actual territory.

Tanks were to be used on a scale calculated to put the wind up whatever enemy units held that sector. Approximately three hundred of these cumbersome but doughty caterpillars were to line up on a nine-mile frontage. They would be “first over the top” in itself a life-saving factor that, had it been adopted earlier in the war, would have by a large percentage reduced the British casualty roll.

The manner in which they would precede the infantry from zero (the hour at which the advance is timed to begin) was practised over an old stretch of trenches and wiring; infantry partaking in the manoeuvre.

Throughout the Norman camp a stir of suppressed excitement and slightly apprehensive anticipation was apparent during the three days’ training, in conjunction with the remainder of the 86th Brigade, for the big stunt. They rapidly grasped, after a hitch during the first day, what was required of them, attaining on the completion of the rehearsals a strong confidence in their powers to carry through their schedule.

They became conscious of an eagerness to try their mettle, to do something “off their own bat.” At the end of each day the Ten Hundred swung in a long swaying column behind their band along the pave roads homewards. Company after company sending up defiant echoes with the marching rallies peculiar to the Normans, they splashed noisily through the almost interconnected line of puddles. Upright, fine, free fellows: the very cream of Guernsey’s manhood.

At night they were well content, after a late dinner, to crouch around the glowing brazier and talk, while Biffer surreptiously was wont to fry the bacon he had commandeered. His arch enemy N.C.O.’s invariably endeavoured to trap him.

“Ere, you, where’d you get that bacon?”

“Bacon?” Biffer looked up with baby-like innocence. “’Ad it sent ain’t ’alf got a scent, too.”

“Oh, an’ that piece yesterday was sent, too, I s’pose?”

“Yes, same animal. ’E’s got pink eyes.”

“Wot, the pig?”

“Course think you get bacon off a canary? Want a bit?”

“Well (mollified), only fat left, I s’pose?”

“No only rind. ’Ere you are.”