World War, 1914-1918 -- Campaigns -- France; World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives
"I satisfied myself of the exact situation, and having visited the
troops of the brigades on both flanks, went back to the ravine,
and from one of the battalion headquarters telephoned to my
Brigadier and told him what I had found out. I mentioned that both
the battalion commanders said they needed more troops to reinforce
them, but added that in my opinion there were already sufficient
troops on the spot, and that all that was necessary was that they
should be placed under the command of one officer, and reorganised
by battalions, to hold their present positions. I told him
everything I knew, and tried to give him a good idea of the
condition of the troops on the spot. He then sent orders to me
that the senior battalion commander was to assume command of all
troops on the brigade front, and that under his orders they were
to be reorganised into battalions and companies, in order that the
defence should be as strong and efficient as possible. I then
returned to Brigade Headquarters to tell my Brigadier more fully
what I had seen."
The following night the brigade was relieved, after what was on the
whole a very successful action. All the officers responsible for its
Staff work seem to have been on duty, without rest or sleep, for some
thirty-six hours, and after the attack was over there were still
German prisoners to be examined.
Such is Staff work in the actual battle-line. What it needs of will,
courage, and endurance will be clear, I think, to anyone reading this
account, and the experience may be taken as typical of thousands like
it at every stage of the war, so long as it was a war of trenches and
positions. And what is also typical is that while the personal risks
of the writer are scarcely hinted at, his mind, amid all his cares of
superintendence and organisation, is still passionately alive to the
individual risks and sufferings of his comrades. He ends on what he
calls "another small point which deserves mention":
"When the officers and men of those two attacking battalions lay
in the mud on that pitch-black night, soaked to the skin and
shivering with cold, as they lay there waiting for the awful hour
when it seems as if horror itself has been let loose, and as they
wondered in their own minds what lay before them, gradually the
German bombardment started, and then by degrees increased in
intensity, until for fully thirty minutes before zero hour it
became perfect hell. Every one of those officers and men, without
a doubt, realised that the enemy had discovered that he was going
to be attacked, and that he would be on the alert and waiting for
them. Yet did any one of them falter, did any one of them for a
single moment dream of not starting with the rest of his comrades
and doing what he knew it was his duty to do?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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