Part 9 (1/2)
In preparation for the advance, a thunderstorm of British fire and steel broke over the German trenches. The splitting, tearing crashes of the mighty ”heavies” lying miles back; their firing accuracy, the penetrating power of their sh.e.l.ls, had a heartening influence on the men. ”Ah, those guns,” said an officer of the Royal Irish Regiment--”their effect, spiritual and temporal, is wonderful. Your own makes you defiant of the very devil; the enemy's put the fear of G.o.d into you.” The German lines were blotted out by smoke and flying soil. The ground rocked and swayed. It was like a heavy sea, only the waves were of earth.
The whistle sounded at four o'clock, and up and over went the men in a ma.s.s. Like the country before Guillamont, the country before Guinchy was slashed and gouged and seared, and the air had the sickening taste of gunpowder, poison gas and the corruption of the body. The men walked or ran, in broken array, in and out of the sh.e.l.l holes or over the narrow ledges that separated them. Soon the enemy got the range.
Severed limbs, heads, arms and legs, and often the whole body, were flung high into the air. It was a dreadful scene. The noise, too, was appalling, what with the roaring of the guns, the bursting of the sh.e.l.ls, and, not less, the frenzied yells of the charging ma.s.ses.
There is no shout in the melee of battle so fierce as the Irish shout.
Every man is like ”Stentor of the brazen voice,” whose shout, as Homer says in the _Iliad_, ”was as the shout of fifty men.” So the Irish shouted as they dashed forward, partly in relief of their feelings, and partly in the hope of confusing and dismaying their adversaries.
It was an amazing martial feat, that charge of the Irish Brigade at Guinchy. Within just eight minutes they had overrun the intervening ground and captured the village. Nothing stopped nor stayed them. They did not pause to lie down for a while and let the bullets and shrapnel fly over them. Many were seen, as the advance proceeded, lying huddled on the ground as if taking shelter. They had taken shelter, indeed, but it was behind a stronger thing than a mound of earth--and that is death.
The most graphic and thrilling narrative of the engagement is given in a letter written home by a second lieutenant of one of the Irish battalions. They were in reserve, five or six hundred yards behind the first line, who were in occupation of the rising slope nearer to Guinchy. It was about four o'clock when they were ordered to move up so as to reinforce the first line. They got up in the nick of time, just as the great charge had begun, and they saw a sight which the officer says stirred and thrilled them to the depths of their souls.
”Mere words,” he says, ”must fail to convey anything like a true picture of the scene, but it is burned into the memory of all those who were there and saw it. Between the outer fringe of Guinchy and the front line of our own trenches is No Man's Land, a wilderness of pits so close together that you could ride astraddle the part.i.tions between any two of them. As you look half right, obliquely down along No Man's Land, you behold a great host of yellow-coated men rise out of the earth and surge forward and upward in a torrent--not in extended order, as you might expect, but in one ma.s.s. There seems to be no end to them. Just when you think the flood is subsiding, another wave comes surging up the bend towards Guinchy. We joined in on the left.
There was no time for us any more than the others to get into extended order. We formed another stream converging on the others at the summit.” He goes on to give a wonderful impression of the spirit of the men--their fearlessness and exuberance which nothing could daunt.
”By this time we were all wildly excited. Our shouts and yells alone must have struck terror into the Huns. They were firing their machine-guns down the slope. Their sh.e.l.ls were falling here, there and everywhere. But there was no wavering in the Irish host. We couldn't run. We advanced at a steady walking pace, stumbling here and there, but going ever onward and upward. That numbing dread had now left me completely. Like the others, I was intoxicated with the glory of it all. I can remember shouting and bawling to the men of my platoon, who were only too eager to go on.”
The officer mentions a curious circ.u.mstance which throws more light on that most interesting subject--the state of the mind in battle. He says the din must have been deafening--he learned afterwards that it could be heard miles away--and yet he had a confused remembrance only of anything in the way of noise. How Guinchy was reached and what it was like is thus described: ”How long we were in crossing No Man's Land I don't know. It could not have been more than five minutes, yet it seemed much longer. We were now well up to the Boche. We had to clamber over all manner of obstacles--fallen trees, beams, great mounds of brick and rubble--in fact, over the ruins of Guinchy. It seems like a nightmare to me now. I remember seeing comrades falling round me. My sense of hearing returned to me, for I became conscious of a new sound--namely, the pop, pop, pop, pop of machine-guns, and the continuous crackling of rifle fire. By this time all units were mixed up, but they were all Irishmen. They were cheering and cheering like mad. There was a machine-gun playing on us near by, and we all made for it.”
Through the centre of the smashed and battered village ran a deep trench. It was occupied by about two hundred Germans, who continued to fire rifle and machine-gun even after the Irish had appeared on all sides, scrambling over the piles of masonry, bent and twisted wood and metal and broken furniture. ”At this moment we caught our first sight of the Huns,” the officer continues. ”They were in a trench of sorts, which ran in and out among the ruins. Some of them had their hands up.
Others were kneeling and holding their arms out to us. Still others were running up and down the trench, distracted, as if they didn't know which way to go, but as we got closer they went down on their knees, too.” In battle the Irish are fierce and terrible to the enemy, and in victory most magnanimous. ”To the everlasting good name of the Irish soldiery,” the officer says, ”not one of these Huns, some of whom had been engaged in slaughtering our men up to the very last moment, was killed. I did not see a single instance of a prisoner being shot or bayoneted. When you remember that our men were worked up to a frenzy of excitement, this crowning act of mercy to their foes is surely to their eternal credit. They could feel pity even in their rage.” He adds: ”It is with a sense of pride that I can write this of our soldiers.”
Many incidents in which smiles and tears were commingled took place in the nests of dug-outs and cellars among the ruins of the village. The Dublin Fusiliers lost most of their officers in the advance. Many of them were the victims of snipers. In the village the direction of affairs was in the hands of young subalterns. The manliness and decision of these boys were wonderful. One of them captured, with the help of a single sergeant, a German officer and twenty men whom they had come upon on rounding the corner of a trench. The German officer surrendered in great style. He stood to attention, gave a clinking salute, and said in perfect English, ”Sir, myself, this other officer and twenty men are your prisoners.” The subaltern said, ”Right you are, old chap!” and they shook hands. Hundreds of the defenders of Guinchy had fled. ”An' if they did itself, you couldn't blame them,”
said a wounded Dublin Fusilier to me. ”We came on jumping mad, all roaring and bawling, an' our bayonets stretched out, terribly fierce, in front of us, that maybe 'tis ourselves would get up and run like blazes likewise if 'twere the other way about.”
Hot and impulsive in all things, the Irishmen were bent on advancing into the open country beyond Guinchy in chase of the retreating Germans. The officers had frantically to blow their whistles and shout and gesticulate to arrest this onward rush of the men to destruction in the labyrinth of the enemy supports which had escaped bombardment.
”Very frankly the men proclaimed their discontent,” says the special correspondent of _The Times_, ”with what they called the 'diplomacy'
which forbade them to go where they wanted--namely, to h.e.l.l and beyond, if there are any Germans hiding on the other side.”
The only cases of desertion in the Irish Division occurred on the night before the storming of Guinchy. It is a deliciously comic incident. Three servants of the staff mess of one of the brigades disappeared. They left a note saying that, as they had missed Guillamont, they must have a hand in the taking of Guinchy. ”If all right, back to-morrow. Very sorry,” they added. Sure enough they were found in the fighting line.
CHAPTER XIII
HONOURS AND DISTINCTIONS FOR THE IRISH BRIGADE
HOW LIEUTENANT HOLLAND OF THE LEINSTERS WON THE V.C.
Many decorations and rewards were won by the Irish Brigade. The Honours Book of the Brigade contained, at the end of 1916, about one thousand names of officers and men, presented by Major-General Hickie with the parchment certificate for gallant conduct and devotion to duty in the field. Over three hundred military decorations were gained. Two high Russian honours were also awarded--the Cross of St.
George, Second Cla.s.s, to Lance-Corporal T. McMahon, Munster Fusiliers, and the Cross of St. George, Fourth Cla.s.s, to Lance-Sergeant L.
Courtenay, Dublin Fusiliers. The list of decorations is so long that only a select few of those won by officers of the Brigade for gallant conduct in the capture of Guillamont and Guinchy can be given. Father Maurice O'Connell, the senior chaplain of the Brigade, got the Distinguished Service Order. Father Wrafter, S.J., and Father Doyle, S.J., got the Military Cross. All the Chaplains of the Division were indeed splendid. The others are: Fathers Browne, S.J., Burke, Cotter, O'Connor, and FitzMaurice, S.J. The official records show that the D.S.O. was also awarded to the following--
”Temporary Captain (temporary Major) Robert James Abbot Tamplin, Connaught Rangers.--He led his company with the greatest courage and determination, and was instrumental in capturing the position. He was wounded.”
”Second-Lieutenant Cyril Paxman Tiptaft, Connaught Rangers, Special Reserve.--With his platoon he consolidated and held for fourteen hours a strong point, thus preventing the enemy from getting behind our advanced positions, which they tried to do again and again. He set a fine example to his men, and kept up their spirits in spite of heavy casualties.”
”Temporary lieutenant-Colonel George Alexander McLean Buckley, Leinster Regiment.--He led his battalion with the greatest courage and determination. He has on many occasions done very fine work.”
”Temporary Lieutenant-Colonel Edwin Henry Charles Patrick Bellingham, Royal Dublin Fusiliers.--He took command of the two leading battalions when the situation was critical, and displayed the greatest determination under sh.e.l.l and machine-gun fire. The success of the operation was largely due to his quick appreciation of the situation, and his rapid consolidation of the position.”