CHAPTERVII

chaptervii

therewastheillusionofvictoryonthatfirstdayofthesommebattles,ontherightofthelinebyfricourt,anditwasnotuntiladayortwolaterthatcertainawfulrumorsihadheardfromwoundedmenandofficerswhohadattackedontheleftupbygommecourt,thiepval,andserrewereconfirmedbycertainknowledgeoftragicdisasteronthatsideofthebattle-line.

theillusionofvictory,withallthepriceandpainofit,cametomewhenisawthegermanrocketsrisingbeyondthevillagesofmametzandmontaubanandourbarragefireliftingtoarangebeyondthefirstlinesofgermantrenches,andoursupporttroopsmovingforwardinmassestocapturedground.wehadbrokenthrough!bytheheroicassaultofourenglishandscottishtroops.westyorks,yorksandlancs,lincolns,durhams,northumberlandfusiliers,norfolksandberkshires,liverpools,manchesters,gordons,androyalscots,allthosesplendidmenihadseenmarchingtotheirlines.wehadsmashedthroughtherampartsofthegermanfortress,throughthatmazeofearthworksandtunnelswhichhadappalledmewhenisawthemonthemaps,andoverwhichihadgazedfromtimetotimefromourfront-linetrencheswhenthoseplacesseemedimpregnable.isawcrowdsofprisonerscomingbackunderescort,fifteenhundredhadbeencountedinthefirstday,andtheyhadthelookofadefeatedarmy.ourlightlywoundedmen,thousandsofthem,wereshoutingandlaughingastheycamedownbehindthelines,wearinggermancapsandhelmets.fromamiensciviliansledoutalongtheroadsasfarastheywereallowedbymilitarypolice,andwavedhandsandcheeredthoseboysofours.“vivel'angleterre!”criedoldmen,raisingtheirhats.oldwomenweptatthesightofthosegaywounded,thelightlytouched,gladofescape,rejoicingintheirluckandinthegloryoflifewhichwastheirsstillandcriedouttothemwithshrillwordsofpraiseandexultation.

“nouslesauronslessalesboches!ah,ilssontfoutus,cesbandits!c'estlavictoire,graceavous,petitssoldatsanglais!”

victory!thespiritofvictoryintheheartsoffightingmen,andofwomenexcitedbythesightofthosebandagedheads,thosebare,brawnyarmssplashedwithblood,thoselaughingheroes.

itlookedlikevictory,inthosedays,aswarcorrespondents,wewerenotsoexpertinbalancingtheprofitandlossasafterwardwebecame.wheniwentintofricourtonthethirddayofbattle,afterthelastgermans,whohadclungontoitsruins,hadbeenclearedoutbytheyorkshiresandlincolnsofthe21stdivision,thatdivisionwhichhadbeensohumiliatedatloosandnowwaswonderfulincourage,andwhenthemanchestersandgordonsofthe30thdivisionhadcapturedmontaubanandrepulsedfiercecounter-attacks.

itlookedlikevictory,becauseofthegermandeadthatlaythereintheirbatteredtrenchesandthefilthandstenchofdeathoverallthatmangledground,andtheenormousdestructionwroughtbyourguns,andthefuryoffirewhichwewerestillpouringovertheenemy'slinesfrombatterieswhichhadmovedforward.

iwentdownflightsofstepsintogermandugouts,astonishedbytheirdepthandstrength.ourmendidnotbuildlikethis.thisgermanindustrywasarebuketous,yetwehadcapturedtheirworkandthedeadbodiesoftheirlaborerslayinthosedarkcaverns,killedbyourbombers,whohadflungdownhandgrenades.idrewbackfromthosefatcorpses.theylookedmonstrous,lyingtherecrumpledup,amidafoullitterofclothes,stickbombs,oldboots,andbottles.groupsofdeadlayinditcheswhichhadoncebeentrenches,flungintochaosbythatbombardmentihadseen.theyhadbeenbayoneted.irememberoneman,anelderlyfellowsittingupwithhisbacktoabitofearthwithhishandshalfraised.hewassmilingalittle,thoughhehadbeenstabbedthroughthebellyandwasstonedead.victory!someofthegermandeadwereyoungboys,tooyoungtobekilledforoldmen'scrimes,andothersmighthavebeenoldoryoung.onecouldnottell,becausetheyhadnofaces,andwerejustmassesofrawfleshinragsanduniforms.legsandarmslayseparate,withoutanybodiesthereabouts.

outsidemontaubantherewasaheapofourowndead.younggordonsandmanchestersofthe30thdivision,theyhadbeencaughtbyblastsofmachinegunfire,butourdeadseemedscarceintheplaceswhereiwalked.

victory?well,wehadgainedsomeground,andmanyprisoners,andhereandtheresomeguns.butasistoodbymontaubanisawthatourlinewasasharpsalientloopedroundmametzvillageandthendippingsharplysouthwardtofricourt.ogod!hadweonlymadeanothersalientafterallthatmonstrouseffort?tothelefttherewasfuryatlaboisselle,whereafewbrokentreesstoodblackontheskylineonachalkyridge.stormsofgermanshrapnelwereburstingthere,andmachinegunswerefiringinspasms.incontalmaison,roundachateauwhichstoodhighaboveruinedhouses,shellswereburstingwiththunderclaps,ourshells.germangunnersininvisiblebatteriesweresweepingourlineswithbarragefire,itroamedupanddownthissideofmontaubanwood,justaheadofme,andnowandthenshellssmashedamongthehousesandbarnsoffricourt,andovermametztherewassuddenlyahurricaneof“hate.”ourmenwereworkinglikeantsinthosemuckheaps,abattalionmoveduptowardboisselle.fromaridgeabovefricourt,whereonceihadseenatallcrucifixbetweentwotrees,whichourmencalledthe“poodles,”abodyofmencamedownandshrapnelburstamongthemandtheyfellanddisappearedintallgrass.stretcherbearerscameslowlythroughfricourtvillagewithlivingburdens.someofthemweregermansoldierscarryingourwoundedandtheirown.walkingwoundedhobbledslowlywiththeirarmsroundeachother'sshoulders,germansandenglishtogether.aboyinasteelhatstoppedmeandheldupabloodyhand.“abitofluck!”hesaid.“i'moff,aftereighteenmonthsofit.”

germanprisonerscamedownwithafewenglishsoldiersastheirescort.isawdistantgroupsofthem,andashellsmashedintoonegroupandscatteredit.thelivingran,leavingtheirdead.ambulancesdrivenbydaringfellowsdrovetothefaredgeoffricourt,notahealthyplace,andloadedupwithwoundedfromadressingstationinatunnelthere.

itwasawonderfulpictureofwarinallitsfilthandshambles.butwasitvictory?iknewthenthatitwasonlyabreachinthegermanbastion,andthatontheleft,gommecourtway,therehadbeenblacktragedy.