- from 'the War Illustrated', 19th August, 1916
- With the Royal Fusiliers at Pozieres
- by Private H. Evans
Told by the Rank And File. A New Series
from a French magazine - British troops entering Pozieres village
It was Sunday afternoon, just at the time when folks at home were having their after- dinner nap, when we commenced to advance on Pozières. The Germans were pretty numerous in the village itself, we were told, and would hold the houses and rough trenches as long as possible.
We had to contest every inch of the ground covered, for, as usual, the German guns were sending over all manner of shells, and the machine-guns from the ridge above the village were well at work. And not only were we getting the usual selection of shrapnel and high-explosive shell, but you could occasionally get a whiff of the lachrymatory projectiles—-they smell like a faint lilac, and sometimes the tears would start from your eyes and stream down your cheeks.
Storming the First Line
It was comical to see men, goggled like motorists, apparently crying, and at the same time ripping out streams of swear words at the shells. Then we'd get a big selection of projectiles containing chloroform gas, and if we hadn't been pretty smart with the gas- masks we'd soon have been sleeping peacefully oh the ground.
Just before it got dark on the Sunday night we stormed, the first line of German defence and took a number of prisoners. They weren't the type of prisoners we'd captured in the first days of the advance. They were Brandenburgers, a regiment with a name something like our own Highlanders for fighting. Nor was there much chance of rifle shooting when we came to grips ; it was bomb and bayonet, knife and rifle-butt.
The light didn't help us at all. As a matter of fact, you were within twenty yards of the enemy before you could see them, and those last few yards we covered at the rush with a yell like a Trafalgar Square cheer. We had all our work cut out to deal with them, and several deeds which would have won the V.C. in ordinary fights passed quite unnoticed. One of the corporals of my platoon, for instance, stood over the body of his chum, who had been stunned by a rifle-butt, and took on all comers without any arms at all. It was fist and boot for him, and the Brandenburgers knew it all right.
Just after we cleared this trench, and had dug a little head cover for ourselves, the machine-guns died away, perhaps because the gunners couldn't see, for the moon gave absolutely no light at all. We got our field telephone connected, and after a message had been sent to the rear our guns began to drop shells a hundred yards in front of us, while the Germans tried to get theirs through that barrier so that they could cut us up.
Through the Inferno
Ours, however, seemed to have the range, for presently they lifted, and we, went forward right on their heels. "Now, then," was the message we got, "over the top and shift 'em." And off we went. It was a rare sight to see the boys on either hand rushing through chat hell of shells, with their heads tucked in and their bodies bent forward. I, for one, have never pretended to be anything of a sprinter, but I'll bet I put up a new record for the 220 yards, and almost before we knew it we were among the Germans again.
This time they'd taken cover on a rough road, and were firing rifle-grenades among us. Our first rush settled their hash, though a few again put up a bit of a fight. But, name or no name, the Brandenburgers are no great shakes with the steel ; as soon as you get the bayonets fairly working they seem to lose heart, and they gave way, stubbornly at first, and then with a rush.
Another Dose of Shell
Somebody must have been marking the fight pretty smartly, for, as we were chasing after them and picking off all the stragglers who wouldn't surrender, we got another dose of shell—mostly tear shells, and we couldn't run for crying and laughing. We retired a bit to the road, and just after midnight went forward again right into the outskirts of the village.
We thought we'd been having a rough time before, but it was nothing to the time we had in the narrow streets. Every house seemed to be packed with picked Hun shots; every doorway seemed to conceal a machine-gun. In the first run into the village we herded together in a narrow street, and lots of good lads went down in the hot reception we got. But there was plenty of cover ; the shells from both our own and the German guns had torn down houses, and left heaps of bricks and stones. There was one wall just breast high, and we hid behind this, with our rifles resting on the top. Every time we saw a flash we fired at it, and in many cases there was no flash from that particular spot afterwards.
We were getting a bit tired through fighting all night, but nobody wanted to stop for a rest.
Reinforcements Arrive
When daylight came we were joined by a big party who'd got detached from their main body during the night. They hadn't a single officer left, only a corporal in. command, and they came and mixed themselves among us behind the wall.
"I've stopped a bullet," said one big fellow with a bandage round his arm, "and there's going to be somebody who'll smart for it before I'm through this mud heap."
He was quite enjoying the scrap, and every now and then he'd duck as a bullet whistled through the air. One of the bullets knocked off his hat, and whizzed it about twenty yards away.
"Can't lose that bonnet," he remarked, "I only got it the day before we came across and I haven't another anywhere. I'll have to fetch it."
And he walked coolly off from behind cover towards the hat. All the Germans who could see him turned their rifles on him, and the bullets hummed round him. He got the hat and walked back, but just as he reached the wall he went down with a bullet in his lung. I dragged him under cover and put him out of harm's way.
"Darn that Hun," he said, just as cool and still smiling. "He's no darned sport —but I got the hat."
Then he died.
That was the kind of man we had to live up to, and I can safely say there wasn't a man within earshot who wasn't affected by his deed of daring. He threw ? his life away, but he set a splendid examples—one that we lived up to in the next few hours.
Our captain wriggled along behind the wall till he came to the centre.
"Well, lads," he asked, "what about it ? Shall we get along a bit?"
The roar of "Yes, rather!" that went up was an eye-opener, and, with him at our head, we rushed for the nearest house. Rifle-butts swung at the doors like mad, while the Huns at the upper windows rained bullets among us. No sooner was one man down than another took his place, and when the door went we scuttled through that house like rats in a warren. The Germans fought like rats, too—like rats in a corner, and when they couldn't get swinging room for their bayonets and rifle-butts they kicked and bit like fiends.
One fellow—I'd just knocked his rifle clean out of his hands—fell on. top of me and bore me to the floor with his weight. Then he tried to bite me through the cheek, and I had to jam my thumbs into his face before he'd4et go. I've got the teeth marks in my cheek now.
From House to House
We cleared that house in ten minutes. Then we stationed some men at the upper windows to snipe the enemy in the opposite house, and to keep its upper windows free while we attacked it. Of course, you mustn't think that the whole battalion was dealing with one house at a time— we were in groups all down the street, some fighting on one side and some on the other. We'd just dealt with our fourth house when there came a German battalion, marching in close order, and with bayonets fixed and bombs flying, round the corner. They came down that street like the tide up a shore, and when they met our lads you could fairly hear the crash.
"Hochs!" mixed with yells of "Play up!" "Biff 'em!" and that sort of thing. Germans and British fired from upper windows into the mob, though for our part we were pretty careful to aim only a| the spiked helmets. The Germans didn't seem so particular ; they simply blazed away as fast as they could load. A little way down the street one "Fritz" . was leaning out of a window firing from his magazine. I got a dead line on him, waited a second, and then scored a bull. He fell headlong to the pavement, and lay there, a crumpled mass. Three others I picked off in this way, and I was as mad as I could be.
Victory at Last
I saw a hat fly through the air, and laughed hysterically when I remembered the episode behind the wall. Then, through the air, there came a big shell, which plumped into the street in front of our house—we actually saw it fall. There was a thundering noise, and in an instant the walls of the house fell outwards, me with them.
They picked me up on a stretcher when darkness came, but they had to wake me. In spite of the fighting and the gun fire going on all around me, I fell asleep as soon as I dropped, and I lost a tremendous amount of blood through my wound. There's one thing I regret, however, and that's that I didn't get a chance to be in the finish of the fighting, when we cleared the Huns right out of Pozières.
