The ground over which the Lancashire Fusiliers operated on and around July 1st is open to public access, but is not easily covered by car. The best option is to leave the vehicle next to the 1/8 Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders’ Memorial in the Sunken Road and then proceed by foot along the various tracks. Stout shoes are essential. Good viewing points of the British line may be had from the vicinity of the Bowery. The German view point is most easily seen from the area of Hawthorn Ridge Cemetery Number 1, though it should be remembered that this is some yards in front of the original German Front Line. The view from the north side of Hawthorn Crater graphically underlines the exposed nature of the Lancashire Fusiliers advance. There are traces of dugouts and possible Stokes Mortar emplacements in the bank of the sunken road facing the Germans. Following the Sunken Road to its northern extremity will bring you beyond the 29th/4th Divisional boundary, and the point from which the 8.15 am assault was made, and to Redan Ridge Number 2 British cemetery, which was fifty yards or so in front of the German Front Line on 1 July, 1916.
See Map 4
The Lancashire Fusiliers arrived in Mailley Maillet in the early days of April 1916, having landed at Marseilles on the 20th March. They were to occupy a particularly awkward part of the line, which ran in a convex semi-circle from White City to the southern side of the New Beaumont Road. Their trenches were in a bad way, the parapets being far from bullet proof, whilst the communications trenches were often in a disastrous state. It was bad enough that the Germans had numerous points from which the bulk of the position could be overlooked; for such insecure access routes had to be improved rapidly. Not only the trenches were a problem. The 29th Division had lost eleven hundred officers at Gallipoli, and there was obviously a great need to train the new ones up to a state of efficiency. The comparative professionalism of the opposing forces was made startlingly clear by a raid that the Germans launched on 6th April elsewhere on the divisional front. See Map 4. The Germans fired a box barrage (that is a rain of shells that effectively cut off from all reinforcement (or retreat) a selected section of front) for one and a half hours, between 9 and 10.30 pm, on Mary Redan, a small salient jutting out from the British line, and on the extreme right of the divisional front. Divisonal boundaries were always vulnerable to such raids, especially when a division had come into a new sector; communications could easily be disrupted, and it was never quite clear which division might be under attack. The estimated eight thousand shells that were fired were sufficient to rattle the windows of the divisional headquarters at Acheux, almost ten miles away. When the barrage lifted, a German raiding party rushed the trenches (occupied by the South Wales Borderers) and made prisoner fourteen survivors, for minimum loss to themselves. This was a specialist raiding group, known as the ‘Boche Travelling Circus’. The battalion suffered in total some one hundred and twenty casualties. The Germans had established that the 29th Division had taken over the sector; and they had given everyone in the Division a hard lesson in the realties of warfare on the Western Front. Almost needless to say the British retaliatory raid was a flop.
The First Battalion, Lancashire Fusiliers was commanded by Temporary Lieutenant Colonel Meredith Magniac. He was a Regular soldier, born in June 1880, who had been commissioned into the Lancashire Fusiliers in 1899. At the outbreak of the war he was a staff officer, but had been granted permission to return to his beloved regiment in 1915. He was a demanding man, and one who led by example. On the 3rd June 1916 he was gazetted a DSO. He survived the slaughter on the Somme, but was to be killed by a shell in a communication trench not far from Monchy le Preux near Arras in April 1917. He is buried at Beaurains Road Cemetery.
The Sunken Road now (August 1993) and then (early hours of 1 July 1916, crowded with men of 1 Battalion, Lancashire Fusiliers).
Besides working on restoring the effectiveness of the trenches, the Lancashire Fusiliers also had to find some method of dominating the sunken road that lay almost mid way between the opposing trenches. It was vital that the Germans be not allowed to have the upper hand here, especially as it would make a far more satisfactory start point for the attack on July 1st, going a long way to straightening the British line, as well as obviously shortening the distance to be covered in the attack. Sunken roads were a common feature of northern France, providing ready made shelter for troops, and useful gun lines. The chief drawback was that the positions were more vulnerable to howitzer or mortar fire because they would be clearly and accurately marked on maps. This only partially damaged the feeling of comfort that these roads provided for those seeking shelter from hostile fire. The Sunken Road at Beaumont Hamel (also known as Hunter’s Lane) is probably the most famous of these roads, and certainly its image is the most famous, even if viewers are unaware of what they are seeing when extracts of Malins’ film on the Somme is shown.
The road was too vulnerable to be occupied with any degree of comfort — or indeed safety — during day or night, so both sides contented themselves with patrol activities in and around it. On the night of the 16th May an officers’ patrol [the chief purpose of which was invariably for reconnaissance], which probably included Magniac, went out into the Sunken Road under the cover of Vickers machine gun fire which hosed the German lines with their fire. One of the officers, 2/Lt Uren, was killed and lies buried in the small British plot within the communal cemetery at Maricourt, a village at this time well behind the German lines. The Germans informed the British of his death by means of a noticeboard on their parapet. On the 18th May a smaller British patrol was threatened with being overwhelmed by a German patrol, but managed to push them off, and were left in possesion of the road for the night. By this stage it had become clear that the dispositions of the two sides would enable the British to hold the road during the day, but if both sides were to make for it under cover of darkness then the Germans would get there first.
George Ashurst was an NCO in 1/Lancashire Fusiliers, and has written an account of his Great War service in My Bit. He describes how he went out as one of two NCOs in a small patrol, whose task was to occupy the Sunken Road at night, and remain there until the following night. They captured the Sunken Road from the German patrol that was already in occupation easily enough. “A whisper from our officer in charge passed silently from one to another. It was the order to hurl our bombs (grenades) into the road and charge the instant he fired his revolver. A few moments later his revolver spat out; instantly our bombs whizzed through the air and at the same time we sprang forward for the sunken road. Our bombs had hardly exploded as we jumped down in the road, but Fritz had been wide awake and skedaddled back to his own lines.” The patrol was immune to the German reaction of spraying No Man’s Land as they took shelter against the east bank, and dug themselves small manholes in case of enemy shelling. They spent the next day in some discomfort — obviously there was no chance of making a fire, as it would give their position away: as far as the Germans were concerned, the sunken road was in its normal state of unoccupation. As soon as it was dark the Germans came out once more, in a small patrol, to occupy the road. “Breathlessly we waited for them and the crack of our officer’s pistol which again was the signal to hurtle our bombs, which we gripped in our hands, the safety pins already drawn. Fritz was almost at the road when the pistol cracked. We hurled our bombs as fast as we could draw the pins and pumped bullets into them as fast as the triggers of the pistols could be pulled. Fritz certainly got the shock of his life, and with howls of rage and pain quickly made back for his own lines. Groans and shouts told us that our bombs had played havoc with them, but sharply from our officer in charge came the order, ‘Back for your lives ‚boys!’ [The German line was rather closer to the Sunken Road — as soon as their men were back the Germans would open up with everything that was readily available: hence the need for great urgency on the part of the British patrol.] Quickly we scrambled out of the sunken road and ran as fast as possible in the darkness for our front line. Falling into shell-holes, we jumped up and ran on, not feeling the knocks and bruises in that mad dash for the safety of our front line. Fritz was beginning to light up No Man’s Land now with his star lights and we knew that at any moment he would rake our wire with machine guns. Reaching our barbed wire, we dashed through the zigzag opening, tearing our clothes and also our flesh on the barbs, then jumped into the trench to lie exhausted awhile as Fritz played tunes on our wire with his bullets. That little stunt was hailed as a success, only two of our party being wounded and all of them getting back to our lines.”
The number of patrols put out by the Lancashire Fusiliers was considerable, and in the tactical situation that faced them, this high level of patrolling, ‘dominating No Man’s Land’, would seem to have justification.
86th Brigade, commanded by Brigadier General W Williams, and of which 1/Lancashire Fusiliers was a part, had obtained the services of a Tunnelling Company to construct a tunnel that would go most of the way to connecting the the British line to the sunken road. This tunnel is the one mentioned in the chapter on Malins. It was dug from Sap 7 to some seventy yards or so short of the sunken road; the divisional pioneer battalion, the 1/2nd Monmouths were to dig a communication trench to connect the tunnel at its eastern end to the road. The tunnel was opened up at 10.30 pm on June 30th, and the Monmouths had completed their task by 2.30 am.
Earlier on the 30th June the Battalion was addressed by Major General Beauvoir de Lisle, the 29th Divisional commander. A similar speech to another battalion in the Division was memorably captured by Malins film. It is, I think, of some interest to record what he actually said. “I cannot allow the Battalion of which I am so proud to enter this great battle without coming to wish you good luck, and to give you the general situation.
View from the German position known as the Burnwurk, looking across No Man’s Land and the Sunken Road.
The Sunken Road is in the foreground, Beaumont Hamel Church visible through the shrubbery on the left; the communication trench hurriedly made on the night of 30 June/1 July was on extreme left of photograph. The Hawthorn Crater is on the far right.
We are now taking part in the greatest battle in which British troops have ever fought. At this great time all previous engagements during this and former wars sink into insignificance. The forces that are engaged in this Fourth Army are five times as large as the whole of the original Expeditionary Force.
We came out in August 1914 with four divisions, and here we have twenty one divisions. All that military thought and science can do to make this a great success has been done, for the first time we have got into position as many guns as we can and with unlimited ammunition. Now, the importance of this battle cannot be exaggerated. On the eastern theatre the Russians have had a great success. They have already captured two hundred thousand of the enemy as prisoners.
Our allies in the west have destroyed thousands of the enemy, and now we hear that the Italians are moving forward. Now, this is the chance for British troops to show that they, too, can succeed. As you go into this great battle I want you to remember what you are fighting for. You are not only fighting to add to the glories won by past generations of the Lancashire Fusiliers. You are not only fighting to maintain the honour of the 29th Division, which won its laurels on the Gallipoli Peninsula. You are fighting for your country. More than that, you are fighting for humanity. We are fighting for truth, honour and justice. We are fighting against slavery for liberty, and we are going on fighting until we have gained our object.
I would like to tell you that if we are successful during the next week, we hope to gain that object before the winter. Much depends upon success, and our higher commanders know — and I know — that all their arrangments cannot win victory. Victory must be won by the infantry, and only by the infantry.
Officers and men — of all the battalions I have in this Division, you give me the greatest confidence of any. To you has been set the most difficult task — that of breaking the hardest part of the enemy’s shell, and I expect you to break that shell in the German first system of trenches.
Officers and men, I wish you the best of luck, and believe with the highest confidence that what any man could do you will do, for your country.”
Malins says he thought that the speech was stirring and had a great impact on the men, the faces of whom ‘shone with a new light’ at the great man’s words. Ashurst was rather less impressed, “…as his horse pranced about our commander began to speak, raising his voice so that all could hear.” His reaction? “I wonder if while he was talking he heard the ugly murmurings in the ranks or noticed our officers turning around and in an undertone order silence and issue threats. Had he heard the remarks of our men when they were dismissed off parade, he would have thought that they were not so enthusiastic about the big push.”
Certainly the words do not seem inspiring; but the atmosphere and sense of tension and occasion may well have made up for that. The men’s reactions were probably not so negative as Ashurst suggests—rather they were, in all probability, the standard infantry gripe of history and not particularly directed against the Big Push as such. Rather more unlikely is that the general’s words, ‘thrilled the hearts of every one who heard them’, as Malins suggests their Divisional commander’s pre-battle talk did to the London Scottish.
The Battalion actually came into the line on the evening of 30th June, and was therefore saved from a long period of tense expectancy in the trenches. B and D Companies, along with bombers, machine gunners and stokes mortars moved into the Sunken Road by 3 am. The Germans would have lost any inclination to patrol into the road because of the combination of the incessant barrage and the occasional discharge of gas over the preceding days. Once the tunnel and the final stretch of communication trench was opened up, it became possible to connect up telephone wires and have a relatively secure route for the runners to communicate with the rear. A Company was to occupy the front line, whilst C Company and Bn HQ were situated in Lan wick Street.
Lancashire Fusiliers in King Street before the attack.
By 7 am the Germans had become fully aware of the new communication trench, and consequently would have been even more on the alert for an attack; they also spotted the body of troops now sheltering in the Sunken Road, and put a significant number of shells into the area, causing some casualties. The Lancashire Fusiliers went into action with twenty two officers and 675 Other Ranks, leaving the ‘ten percent’ behind to act as a rebuilding base for the battalion if the casualties were very heavy. Although the ‘ten percent’ is an accurate reflection of the Other Ranks who were not included in the attack, the proportion of officers that remained was much higher — more like a third. To a rather lesser extent this higher proportion applied to the NCOs as well.
As mentioned earlier in this account, the Lancashire Fusiliers held a part of the line from which it was particularly awkward to launch a coherent attack, due both to its shape and to the extent by which it was overlooked by the German positions. It would entail a careful — and complex — set of orders to ensure that the troops arrived on the German front line as a body.
When a unit or a formation was sent overseas it was required to keep a record of its daily activities, in the shape of a War Diary, and return these monthly to Brigade which forwarded them to Division and so forth. The quality of the War Diary as a source of information varies widely; some included detailed orders, maps and reports on actions, whilst others are short and cursory. There is a wide variation within a battalion’s diary, as the author (often the Adjutant) would change from time to time, and they had variable literary skill. In the case of a big offensive the diary did not always reflect the enormity of the action, as often the people who saw the most had become casualties. In the case of 1/Lancashire Fusiliers on July 1st the War Diary gives a coherent story of what befell the Battalion.
Panorama from north-east lip of the Hawthorn Crater with the clearest possible view of the British advance across No Man’s Land, between the Sunken Road and the Burnwurk.
0720
The mine under Hawthorn Redoubt was fired, and though it was not visible from the road, all felt the ground shake. B and D Companies were now lining up in position for the assault. D Company had to be careful not to expose themselves as northern end of the Sunken Road is shallow; and B Company had to carefully select their exits as the bank is overhung and lined with trees at the southern end. 86th Stokes Gun battery opened hurricane bombardment on German first line.
0730
The leading sections of B and D and Bombing company dashed forward in extended order, being led by 2/Lts, Craig, Gorfunkle and Kershaw. At the same moment 1 platoon B Company under Lt Whittam and 2 platoons bombers left our trenches south of Beaumont Road. A Company began to leave front line trenches in support of B and D Companies.
The leading two lines of B and D Companies had a few moments’ grace, and then the enemy machine guns opened and a storm of bullets met the attack. The third and fourth lines of B and D Companies were practically wiped out within a few yards of the Sunken Road and only some wounded, including Captains Nunneley and Wells, the two company comanders, managed to crawl back.
This does not make it clear what was actually happening — or rather was meant to happen. The Stokes Mortar guns in the Sunken Road were supposed to fire as many bombs as possible on the German front line from their position in the Sunken Road. The German front line was at its closest just forward of the small wood which may be seen to-day, some two hundred yards from the Sunken Road. The men from the road would advance under the cover of this barrage of fire, would halt for a couple of minutes to reorganise, and then dash the last yards into the German trenches, where previously selected men would hold the entrances to any dugouts they might come across.
Very few men were to get close to the German wire. The battalion was a victim of the early blowing of the Hawthorn mine, and the repulsing of the attack on the Hawthorn Ridge. Standing on the northern lip of the crater, one has a tremendous view over the whole of the Fusiliers’ attack, and can see how difficult was the task that faced the British. How exposed the soldiers near the Beaumont road must have felt, with little or no cover available except for the overgrown fields — and this illusory protection was being blasted away by shell fire in any case. The soldiers piling out of the Sunken Road towards the German line also had to face the difficulty of getting down the remblai, a steep embankment on the west side of the British cemetery, right under the guns of the Germans. The attack rapidly fizzled out.
A Company suffered very heavily as it made its way forward from the British Front Line, and only a few made it to the northern end of the Sunken Road; Captain EG Matthey, the Company Commander went forward with a few of his men, but was soon hit and mortally wounded. He now lies in Redan Ridge Cemetery No. 2. C Company tried to make its way forward from Lanwick Street, and was severely hit when it, too, emerged from the Front Line. One platoon was blocked by wounded in the new communication trench leading to the Sunken Road, but a group led by 2/Lt W. Caseby and sixty men reached the Sunken Road, ‘though they were so encumbered with coils of wire and tools that many of them rolled down its steep banks and half an hour’s delay resulted before the remnants of A and C companies could be reorganised for a further advance.’
George Ashurst was with a group of Bombers in the vicinity of Lanwick Street when the attack started at 7.30. “We set our teeth; we seemed to say to ourselves all in a moment, ‘To hell with life’, and as the shout of our comrades in the front line leaping over the top reached us above the din of battle, we bent low in the trench and moved forward. Fritz’s shells were screaming down on us fast now; huge black shrapnel shells seemed to burst on top of us. Shouts of pain and calls for help could be heard on all sides; as we stepped forward we stepped over mortally wounded men who tried to grab our legs as we passed them, or we squeezed to one side of the trench while wounded men struggled by us anxious to get gaping wounds dressed and reach the safety of the dugouts in the rear. Men uttered terrible curses even as they lay dying from terrible wounds, and others sat at the bottom of the trench shaking and shouting, not wounded but unable to bear the noise, the smell and the horrible sights.”
He crossed the Front Line trench that had been practically flattened, and dodged and weaved his way to the Sunken Road. “Miraculously, I breathlessly reached the Sunken Road, practically leaping the last yard or two, and almost diving into its shelter. Picking myself up, and looking around, my God, what a sight! The whole of the road was strewn with dead and dying men. Some were talking deliriously, others calling for help and asking for water.” Ashurst offered what help he could to the wounded, which included ‘one of my boys’. Then he was called to man the German side of the road by Colonel Magniac, who was preparing the men for the 8.15 attack. “…I heard the colonel calling out for all fit men to line the bank of the road, waving his revolver menacingly as he did so. Then he called for a signaller. One stepped up to him. ‘Get to the top of that road and signal for reinforcements quickly,’ he thundered. Without a moment’s hesitation the signaller obeyed, but as he raised his flags to send the first letter the brave fellow dropped back into the road, riddled with bullets. The picture of that gallant hero’s brave act will never leave my memory.”
Battalion Headquarters had moved into the Sunken Road at 7 am, and so at least it was easy for Magniac to command his forward troops. He decided to try and capture the northern end of Beaumont Hamel, where the high ground offered a good field of fire, and proposed to use Caseby and a collection of seventy five men with the assistance of rapid fire from the Stokes Mortars to achieve this. However the attackers were soon caught by German fire, and only a dozen or so made it near the wire. Caseby was to survive this attack, only to die by his Colonel at Arras, in April 1917. He is commemorated on the Arras Memorial.
As Ashurst went over the top as part of the 8.15 attack he once more found himself in the midst of a fusillade of bullets; and soon afterwards decided that discretion was the better part of valour. “In a few moments I must have been alone and quickly decided to drop into a shell-hole. I felt certain that most of the men must have been killed or wounded. Anyhow, I was quite safe from Fritz’s bullets, at least in my shell-hole, and I could look back over No Man’s Land towards our own trenches. Hundreds of dead lay about, and wounded men were trying to crawl back to safety; their heart rending cries for help could be heard above the noise of rifle fire and bursting shells.” Ashurst toyed with the idea of staying put until darkness before making a dash back for safety, but seeing some of the Royal Fusiliers on the other side of the road rushing back for the trenches, he decided that the Germans must be counter-attacking, and did not want to be caught in any British artillery barrage that might be launched. He ran back to the Sunken Road, “flinging myself into it as Fritz’s bullets whistled all about me, and almost jumping on two of our men who were busy making a firing step in the side of the road.” He reported to an officer, who was delighted to see him, and who put him in charge of some men at the bottom end (ie near the Beaumont Road).
There now followed a calm period in which rations were eaten, firing steps made and other measures to make the road defensible, “and we collected our dead comrades, took off their identity discs, and placed the bodies together tidily.”
Another attack was planned for 12.30 pm, but this was cancelled when it became clear that Magniac had only about one hundred and twenty five effectives in the Front Line and the Sunken Road, with only a couple of officers; in addition there were over a hundred wounded men taking shelter in the relative safety of the road’s banks. The battalion was ordered to make good the defences of the road (which was done under very trying conditions), and that night everyone except twenty five men and an officer was evacuated from it.
George Ashurst was one of those left in the Sunken Road overnight, being in charge of the bottom end of the road, the officer at the top, and a senior soldier with a party of seven men in the middle. The Engineers, under continual harassing fire, erected barbed wire defences for the front of the road, suffering casualties all the time.
“When daylight came the battlefield was almost quiet, friend and foe seeming to rest after the terrible strain of the day before. I and my half-dozen men were dozing, our rifles resting against the barricade, when suddenly I thought I heard voices talking on the other side of the barricade — or was I dreaming? But, snatching my rifle and jumping up, I looked over the barricade and there, standing about one hundred yards away, were three Germans, quite obviously unaware that we were still holding the sunken road.” Ashurst shot one of them before the Germans dived for cover in a ditch along which they had crawled (perhaps the one to the north of the Beaumont Road that can be seen to-day?); and the garrison of the road then prepared for the inevitable German retribution in the shape of an artillery strafe. This attack caused havoc to the group holding the centre of the road. “..we heard the shouts of pain and for help and we dashed madly towards the poor fellows, regardless now of all danger. The huge shell had made a fair hit. Three of the party were killed outright and the other four all wounded. Quickly we bandaged their wounds and carried them to what we thought was the safest spot. No sooner had we moved them than another shell dropped almost in the same spot as before, hurling the three dead bodies over the road.” With darkness they were ordered to evacuate the road.
After the abortive attack on the German positions a sergeant in the Lancashire Fusiliers takes the roll – mid morning 1 July, 1916.
The Lancashire Fusiliers, with their ‘ten percent’ returned to them, held the sector until July 3rd, and then moved to billets in Auchonvillers — no peace here, they were shelled by 5.9 inch guns — before the whole battalion marched to Acheux Wood, ‘a very depressed force’. The battalion had lost seven officers killed and fourteen wounded; 156 other ranks killed, 298 wounded and eleven missing. The Sunken Road was incorporated into a new British Front Line, called Hunter’s Lane. It was to figure prominently once more in the attack of the 51st Highland Division on November 13th, 1916.
A final note on the battles of July 1st in this area is provided in the 51st Divisional History, describing the aftermath of their successful attack in November. ‘During this tour of duty an immense amount of salvage work was carried out. The whole battlefield was cleared of arms and equipment; old dumps were moved forward so as to be available for use in the consolidation of the Green Line. Large parties were also employed in collecting the dead, and loading the bodies on to waggons, so that they might be buried in the British cemeteries at Mailly-Maillet or Auchonvillers. Parties were also employed in burying the numerous skeletons which lay scattered about the old No Man’s Land. These were the remains of the troops who had taken part in the unsuccessful attack on Beaumont Hamel on July 1st. The flesh had been devoured from the bones by the rats, which swarmed in thousands, and made their homes in the empty trunks. Six hundred and sixty nine of these skeletons were buried on the front of the 152nd Brigade alone — an unpleasant task, and one which had a considerable effect on the highly-tried nerves of some of the men.’ The 152nd Brigade had fought over the ground that 1/Lancashire Fusiliers and its neighbours to the right had fought over on that sunny July morning, which had started so full of promise.
One of the many casualties buried at Beaumont Hamel British Cemetery. Second Lieutenant Anderson originally came from Autralia.