Andrew Wareham - The Death of Hope

“I do much hope that we may be able to take the opposing front line and at least even out this damned salient. The German trench is slightly higher than ours and will be more comfortable in many ways. If they have anything of interest to us, try to bring it back – new guns, mortars, that sort of thing.”

The bombardment commenced and the bulk of the battalion fell back from the first line of trenches, wisely, it transpired. A number of shells fell in their own wire, more during the night as barrels wore and sighting became less accurate.

“Are they cutting the wire?”

Richard was interested to know what they might face in the morning. Major Vokes had spent some time to the front, trying to get a picture from the little he could see in the shell flashes.

“HE are effective, sir. Even the small shells cut wire and throw it back a distance. Shrapnel is valueless for wire, sir. A break at the point of the explosion and that is all. Generally speaking, shrapnel leaves a small crater under mostly unbroken wire.”

“Note that for our reports after the offensive, Vokes. That, of course, assumes we are here to write such reports.”

“I shall leave my clerks in their dugout, sir. They can maintain a diary.”

“Famous last words and all that… I do hope I am being unnecessarily gloomy, Vokes.”

“It is still a learning process, sir. The generals have to find out exactly how to break through modern trenches.”

“Simplicity itself, Vokes! Land an army on the Friesian coast, north of Holland. The Navy would lose a few of its tin castles to submarines and mines; the German army would be forced to withdraw troops from France and Russia to set up new defences. Thin them out here and we could probably make a breakthrough. The Russians might be able to do the same. A chance that Denmark might join in to grab back Schleswig and Holstein. The Dutch might jump in on the winning side. A good possibility that Austria-Hungary might seek a separate ceasefire.”

Vokes admitted that to be possible.

“It all falls down because of the dreadnoughts, sir. They cost too much. The government won’t risk seeing them sunk – they are too valuable to send them out to war. Too many millions invested in the battleships to wish to risk them in combat, sir.”

“Better far they should grow rust at Scapa Flow than venture out into the North Sea, Vokes? You are likely right. Too much myth and insufficient reality, today’s Navy! Glad I got out.”

“So are we, sir. Their loss has been very much our gain.”

Another hero-worshipper! Richard had thought better of Vokes.

He glanced at his watch. Another fifteen minutes. The bombardment was supposed to lift for the last quarter of an hour, to move forward from the pulverised wire and zero onto the German front trench. He gave the artillery five minutes of leeway – gunners not being the brightest of mortals and not necessarily able to read their watches – and ordered the battalion back into the front line. He accompanied Captain Caton, trying to get a feel for his company, wondering how much damage Draper had done to it.

“Had a word with young Michaels last night, sir. Told him that he would not be held back, not tarnished by Draper, you might say.”

“What’s your opinion of the boy?”

“He’ll do, sir. Mind you, he’ll quite likely die today, trying to prove that he’s not chicken.”

“Almost inevitable. A pity I could not take the risk of keeping Draper, you know. I might have enjoyed forcing him to march in front of me today.”

“At the point of your revolver, that would have been, sir, after you had dragged him out of the aid post where he had gone suffering from a heart attack.”

“I seem to have been last man in the battalion to have heard of Draper’s little problem, Caton.”

“Who is to come to you snitching on a fellow officer, sir? The most one could do would be to suggest you might accompany him one night, as you did, in fact.”

The informer was not a well-loved soul in any company, Richard admitted.

“Wire parties forward.”

The gaps in their own wire were pulled open. Stray shells had cut several others, would speed the process of getting forward.

“All done, sir.”

“Thank you, Hawkeswill.”

The adjutant had asked for the duty, saying that he wanted to take some part in the battle, he was not that old. Richard still did not like the man, while admitting that he had shown useful finally.

“Ladders forward.”

The short ladders were fixed in place so that the men could climb the six feet out of the trench, burdened by their packs.

“Now, Major Vokes.”

Vokes blew on the big brass whistle, an ‘Acme Thunderer’, beloved of games teachers and sports coaches and now put to less innocent use.

The first line of men formed up shoulder to shoulder and plodded forward into a desultory crackle of rifle fire. A few fell.

“No machine guns, sir.”

Richard led the second line, ten yards behind the first, listening to the yells of the lieutenants as they kept the men straight.

“Wire is cut in places, sir. Some gaps all the way to the trenchline.”

“Drop packs and run! Lewises forward!”

Two minutes and they had the front line, were pushing down the communications trenches towards the rear. Ten minutes and they had taken the first two lines of trenches and were meeting organised resistance for the first time. Machine guns began to fire and light artillery, pompoms and mortars, opened up on them.

The advance stalled as men took cover and began to return fire with rifles and Lewises.

“Fire coming in from the flank, sir. To the left.”

“Take care of it, Vokes. If needs be, set up a line back to our trenches. Cavalry should be due within minutes.”

“They won’t be able to cross our trenches, sir.”

“The word I used was ‘due’, Vokes. That doesn’t mean I expect to see them.”

Vokes laughed and moved off to the left.

“Caton, set your company to reversing the fire step here. We will hold here until we receive artillery support.”

Caton scurried into action, setting the company into position on a cobbled together step.

“Hawkeswill, go back and try to get hold of the RHA. Even their little guns will do some good, firing from just behind our second line; they will be able to get their trails down there.”

Half an hour and there was no sign of the cavalry. A runner came from Brigade.

“Beg pardon, sir. Why have you stopped?”

“A concentration of machine guns and light artillery. Inform the Brigadier that I am trying to bring the RHA up in support, expect to advance under cover of their fire.”

Nothing happened for an hour other than the fire to their front increasing as extra machine guns were fed in from the German rear.

Hawkeswill appeared with a party carrying the battalion’s two Vickers.

“RHA are held back with the cavalry, sir. Their people will not permit them to move forward. Thought our machine guns would be useful.”

“Very much so, Hawkeswill. Well done! ‘Major O’Grady!”

A reply came from close behind his shoulder.

“I will be setting them up, sir. Mr Michaels has just gone forward, sir, with four men carrying Mills Bombs. The young gentleman said he could see a communications trench running at the diagonal which might bring them within reach of the light artillery, sir. Needed to be doing something, so he did, sir, for not liking what was being said about Captain Draper and the whole company tarnished by him.”

“Pity! Still, only a second lieutenant and there are plenty more of them to hand.”

“Four good riflemen, sir. He picked the best.”

The men could less easily be afforded – it took years to train up a rifleman and the battalion had too few of the old, experienced soldiers.