The two areas to examine here are those where the tank actions took place. The strongpoint mentioned in the first account is reached by parking the car by the Ancre British Cemetery and walking up the (initially) metalled road that climbs up the ridge immediately to the east of it. After some four or five hundred metres, as the track rises less steeply, and on both sides of the track, is the approximate site of the redoubt. It is not advised to bring a car up here, as the metal of the road soon gives way to a farm track, and there is nowhere suitable for a car to turn around.
See Maps 9, 11, 15
The Triangle is to the north of the Beaucourt Road, just below much of which ran the trench of that name. It occupied a vaguely triangular piece of ground, meeting the road at a point where a track runs directly south, some three hundred yards east of the track leading to New Munich Cemetery. From here it ran a hundred yards or so in a northerly and north westerly direction, being connected at the top. The strength of the position may be appreciated without moving far from the road.
Functioning or not, a sight like this towering above one would unnerve most defenders.
The tank had made its first appearance on the Somme at the Battle of Flers-Courcelette on 15th September. It is no part of this account to dwell on that event, or the days that followed. The press had greeted its arrival in the most extravagant terms, a view that was not shared by the staff. To be fair to them, it had considerable defects, it was extremely slow, it was very cumbersome and it was all too vulnerable to being bogged down in the entrenched and shell-smashed ground across which these lumbering monsters had to operate. It is appropriate, however, to quote Basil Liddell Hart, a formidable proponent of the tank in the inter-war years, and no friend of General (as he then was) Sir Douglas Haig, on that man’s view of the tank as expressed on 17th October 1916, when the tank had been engaged in several actions.
“Haig’s own reaction was more favourable than that of most of his staff and subordinate commanders.” He met the commanders of the embryo Tank Corps (formally established in July 1917) at his Advanced HQ and “thanked them warmly for what had been done and said that, although the tanks had not achieved all that had been hoped, they had saved many lives and fully justified themselves.” He added, according to an observer, ‘Wherever the tanks advanced we took our objectives, and where they did not advance we failed to take our objectives.’ “He then said that he wanted as many tanks built as possible, while suggesting that these should have improved armour and be of a heavier type.” He sent a senior officer a couple of days later to a conference at the War Office to demand a thousand new tanks, whilst a hundred of the Mark I were ordered until a new design could be finalised.
By the middle of October 1916 it became finally apparent that the advances of the Fourth Army, occupying for the most part the area of the battlefield to the south of the Ancre, was floundered in the sea of mud which was now the dominant feature of the Somme. This mud was considered by many of the combatants to be even worse than that which characterised the later Paschendaele conflict a year or so later. But the incessant nibbling away at the Pozieres Ridge, at the villages along the Albert-Bapaume road, and the gradual eating away of the ground to the north of this Somme Via Sacra of the British army, had left much of the German position north of the Ancre in a salient into the British attack. This made it more vulnerable to that most potent weapon of the Great War, the Artillery. It was determined that the Reserve Army under General Gough should launch an offensive to clear this German stronghold.
With this end in view, the remaining tanks were transferred to that Army for refitting at Acheux, and a total of fifty two tanks found themselves detrained there. As time progressed, some twenty or so were transferred back to the main front. To get a good idea of the sheer nastiness of the Somme fighting at this stage, I can recommend no better book than Sidney Rogerson’s, Twelve Days, recently republished.
The Reserve Army (it became the Fifth at the end of October) made plans for the attack on the German held ground astride the Ancre, but had to make repeated postponements because of the weather conditions. A number of tanks spent their time being shuttled around the Somme front; inevitable, given their small numbers, but unfortunate in that it did not allow the tank commanders to develop a sound knowledge of the ground over which they would have to operate. The bad weather did not help morale, especially as the men were billeted in poor conditions; whilst the tension caused by the frequent postponements effected everybody.
At the beginning of November tanks were moved up (via Beausart) to Auchonvillers and La Signy Farm. However, once in these lying-up places, the heavens seemed to open completely. Aerial photography played a vital part in enabling commanders to make a decision about the role of the tanks in the future conflict: ‘the old shell holes and many of the old trenches had filled up with water, and … the greater part of the front was in a hopeless condition for that type of Tank (Mark I).’
On November 12 nearly all the tanks were sent back from La Signy Farm, and most of those at Auchonvillers; instead of being used as an integral part of the initial offensive, they were to be made available should the advance provide an opportunity for their use on firmer ground further ahead. The tanks that were assisting the assault south of the Ancre took their part in the main assault, and played a useful role in what was a largely successful operation.
Winter on the Ancre. Water iced over in the craters.
The tanks to the north of the Ancre played a vital part in removing two enemy strongpoints, though not on the first day. Two tanks were led by a trench mortar officer, Lieutenant Alan Campbell, RNVR, to deal with the strongpoint in the German front line trench that had been the cause of so many casualties to the battalions on the left flank of the 63rd Naval Division attack. Whilst so much progress had been made adjacent to the Ancre, and Freyberg was leading his men to the capture of Beaucourt, this redoubt proved to be extremely stubborn, and threatened to be a major obstacle to the British advance.
Despite the shell-torn terrain, the tanks managed to make their way to the German front line; the first crossed the German trench, but became bogged down almost immediately afterwards. The second fared worse, becoming stuck just before the German front. However, the lead tank still had a six pounder gun that it could use, and the tank commander used the limited means of visibility available to him to see how this weapon could be best used. The sight that greeted him was extraordinary, and is here recorded as witnessed. The ground before him seemed to be shimmering with white, “on opening the front flap of the tank and obtaining a better view, it was seen that all the German garrison, some four hundred in number, appeared to have found something white to wave in token of surrender; those who could not produce anything better were waving lumps of white chalk about or bits of board or rifle stocks which they had rapidly chalked white. The situation was rather an embarrassing one for so small a number as the crew of two tanks to deal with; fortunately, however, it was possible by signs, and with the assistance of the infantry, to mop up these four hundred prisoners before they realized that both the tanks were stuck and out of action.”
Forty two men of B Company, 14/Worcesters, the Divisional Pioneers, were to spend four hours on the morning of the 15th November slogging away to salvage these two bogged down monsters. This was not the only work that had to be done; the British advance had brought the infantry up against new obstacles — but also to firmer ground. The task that was faced was to make it possible for tanks to proceed over the ground that had been won. Because of the extremely heavy shelling that it had suffered over the preceding days (not to mention preceding months) the land was all but impassable. By the end of the 17th November only one tank had been able to make it through the churned morass to a position where it could be used to assist the attack; all the others had become bogged down hopelessly.
This one tank had to be made to count. It was decided that its objective should be the Triangle, a German strongpoint roughly midway between Beaumont Hamel and Beaucourt just above the Beaucourt Road. The hard frost of the last night or so had helped to make it easier for the tank to make its approach, although the ground immediately around the redoubt had been heavily shelled; the tank was to attack from the flank in support of the frontal infantry assault. To assist the tank a route was taped for some distance ahead of the British front by the Tank Intelligence Officer to show it the way; once more time was too short to enable the tank commander to make any sort of adequate reconnaissance.
However, this plan was to be thwarted by a fall of snow which covered the tape shortly before the tank was to move forward. Once more the Intelligence Officer stepped into the breech. He had been over the ground before, and determined that the only solution was to lead the tank to its position — he had strict orders not to enter a tank. He walked over the British front line, made his way through shell holes filled with freezing water and took it up close to the Triangle, coming through the operation unscathed despite the hail of bullets flying around him. He then returned to the British front whilst the tank proceeded to roll up the German line. It was impossible for the German artillery to open fire on it because the tank was in the midst of the German lines, and it was able to use its machine guns to devastating effect both in the immediate vicinity and also on the German transport lines.
The infantry attack became held up elsewhere and the tank was required to remove stubborn points of German resistance. It was impossible to make contact with the tank other than by runner, and once more the Intelligence Officer made his way across the field of battle and guided it home to the Brish lines to prepare it for a new attack. Perhaps fortunately for the exhausted crew and its pilot, the ground had thawed, and it proved to be impossible to get the machine back into action again.
Repairing the roads – a never ending, but vital, occupation on the Somme in the autumn and winter of 1916.
Few in numbers and hampered by the terrible condition of the ground, hindered by the primitive state of battlefield communications and a victim of ghastly weather conditions, the tank had played a not inconsiderable part in the battle waged north of the Ancre and in those areas where it succeeded.
The remarkable Intelligence Officer was Captain (later to rise to the rank of Major General) FE ‘Boots’ Hotblack. HQ Tanks 1917–1918 provides a pen portrait of some of the chief characters of the command element of the early days of the Tank Corps, and Hotblack takes his place amongst those described. Before the war he had been a brewer, and was a gifted linguist. From the time of his commissioning (in September 1914) he had played an important role in Intelligence, serving as a liason officer in the days of the retreat. He served in various HQs, and made a name for himself as being unafraid of risk, and frequently appearing at dangerous points on the front. “He was about six feet two inches tall, and always moved very swiftly and silently on india-rubber soles. He had unusually large eyes, the largest I ever saw; talked very little, and seemed almost to resent being talked to; was a fanatic about the war, thought of nothing else, and concentrated the entire energies of a very capable brain on his immediate job. He was a natural soldier. His sense of duty, his standard of dsicipline, his extreme efficiency, and his astonishing courage were an invaluable asset for the Corps (to which HQ he was transferred at the end of September 1916). No other department was better run than his, and he was never subject to the criticism that used from time to time to be directed against other members of the staff, that they were not sufficiently in touch with the actualities of the situation.”
As a result of his actions at Beaumont Hamel he was to add a DSO to his MC; he was also to ensure the high regard that Intelligence Department was to hold in the Tank Corps — and indeed his portrait hung in the Officers Mess of the Intelligence Corps for many years, a fitting tribute for a pioneer ‘Intelligencer’. He was invalided out of the army afer an accident in April 1940, shortly after assuming command of the 2nd Armoured Division.