The two tanks that had been allocated were bogged down in the thick mud and became useless. Major Clooney ordered his remaining troops to retreat to their line where they could regroup.
Back in the wet muddy trench, the Canadians took the opportunity to boil the billy and make some tea. Stale bickies and jam accompanied the brew.
‘Well, Frank, I told you we’d make it; Canucks survived the battle yet again.’
‘For now, Joe, just for now… but no doubt we’ll be out there again very soon.’
‘We’ll be right, pal. Just think of that farm back home. The Government is hanging onto your farm in British Columbia; it’s waiting for you.’
‘Yeah, I’m not so sure about that. It’s what keeps me going, though, the thought of farming my own land and holding my Sophie in my arms again. If I didn’t have those two things to look forward to I’d be dead like the other poor bastards we left out there.’
The orders were given to mount another attack on the German positions the Canadians ran bravely into the firestorm and eventually took the first German line. They were on the outskirts of Gueudecourt and could not only hear the German fire… they could see the bastards.
‘One thing I’ve been dreading is using my bayonet for the first time. I’ve got no problem with shooting a Kraut, but sticking my bayonet in his belly is another thing altogether.’
‘Yeah, I know what you mean, Philippe, seeing the bastard’s eyes glaze over as you twist the blade.’
‘Come on, guys, we’re Canadian soldiers, Canucks. If we have to take the Germans on in hand to hand we’ll bloody do it.’
‘I suppose so, not looking forward to it, though.’
Just then they heard the order: ‘Advance into the village, take it, and hold it.’
The three pals and the remainder of the 22nd Battalion slowly advanced on Gueudecourt. The German defence was fierce. Soldiers were falling with each yard of the advance. After about an hour, the first Canadians entered the village. Germans were hiding in the ruins and sniping the Canucks at every opportunity.
The Canadians used grenades to flush out the enemy.
Philippe was moving slowly through a cobbled laneway when a German soldier appeared in front of him. The German pointed his Mauser rifle at Philippe and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened; his rifle had jammed. The Canadian quickly thrust his bayonet into the German’s throat, withdrew and thrust the blade into his belly. The enemy soldier dropped to his knees and rolled onto the cobblestones. Philippe didn’t think twice before continuing the search of Gueudecourt’s ruins for more of the enemy.
All three friends survived the battle and the Canadians hung onto the town for a further four days, despite German counterattacks and heavy artillery fire.
The final Battle of the Somme was over; the war wasn’t.
Arras
A Nice Place But I Wouldn’t Like to Live There
Chapter 7
The First Battle of Bullecourt, on the 11th of April, 1917, was an Australian attack on German trenches east of the village of Bullecourt. The plan was to advance some three kilometres north, taking the village of Hendecourt, two kilometres northeast of Bullecourt. The normal tactics would be to support the ground troops by an artillery bombardment prior to the attack on the German trenches. However, at Bullecourt, the Australian 4th Division attacked without artillery support in an attempt to catch the Germans by surprise. The attack was made with the assistance of a dozen tanks. Unfortunately, most of the tanks didn’t reach the German line. Undeterred, the Australian infantry advanced northwards, with Bullecourt on their left flank, and seized two lines of German trenches. Increasing German resistance halted them, having been let down a second time by the failure of their own artillery to fire on the German counterattacks. The Australians, having held the enemy trenches for several hours, were driven back to their starting line with the loss of over three thousand men. Poorly planned and hastily executed, the first battle of Bullecourt resulted in disaster.
General Gough again sacrificed Australian diggers’ lives.
Three weeks after the first battle of Bullecourt, the Australian 2nd Division, together with the British 62nd Division attacking their left towards Bullecourt itself, assaulted over the same ground where the Australians had met defeat on April the 11th. This time, the Australian infantry attacked with the support of artillery.
On the first day of the battle, on the 7th of May, one Australian brigade on the right flank was able to reach the German first line, and the British obtained a foothold on the southern edge of Bullecourt. The main Australian attack was successful in capturing the same German trenches the Australian 4th Division had been ejected from on the 11th of April.
The battle continued for two weeks, with the Australians and British committing four more divisions (the Australian 1st and 5th Divisions, and the 7th and 58th British Divisions). The Germans, also reinforced, made numerous unsuccessful counterattacks. By the 17th of May, the Germans admitted defeat by ceasing attempts to recover their lost ground. A total of one hundred and fifty thousand men from both sides fought at Second Bullecourt, and tragically, eighteen thousand British and Australians, and eleven thousand Germans were killed or wounded in battle.
George and his two close mates were heavily involved in the battle; they were now under the command of Captain Percy Black.
The strategy was for the platoon to walk behind the tanks and, when the iron beasts had destroyed the barbed wire, to penetrate the German trenches and take the Hindenburg Line.
They waited as the tank operators attempted to start the two tanks; however; it didn’t look as though they would be going anywhere soon.
Major Black yelled out to his men, ‘Come on boys, bugger the tanks!’ and charged full on into the wire. His men, including The Invincibles, leaped forward with him and fought their way into the German trenches. The diggers were the first soldiers to break through the Hindenburg Line. Once they got through, they looked for Major Black. George found him dead on the wire, his pistol still in his hand.
‘The best commander we have ever had,’ said George.
‘Certainly the bravest,’ the others agreed.
The three soldiers dug a shallow grave and placed his body in it. They erected a makeshift cross and scrawled his name and date of death. Their hope was to be able to return and retrieve Percy and bury him with full honours at a later time.
So many ANZACs had been killed in the attack that there were only a few left to defend the trenches. Once the Germans realised this, they mounted a counterattack and overwhelmed the diggers, who were forced to withdraw.