The Western Front was epitomised by the brute force of men against machine and each other. Tens of thousands were lost in the maelstrom of war. In the horror, friendships were forged that endured even through death. This is the story of one such friendship…

Wally Brown was a grocer. He did not necessarily want to be a grocer but neither did he want to follow in the footsteps of his father as a miller. The small Tasmanian community of New Norfolk, into which he was born in 1885, was a progressive ‘postal, telegraphic and money order township’. The town boasted the New Norfolk Literary Institution complete with a library of some 1200 volumes and a ‘very fine and well built lunatic asylum’. Progressive it might have been, but at 26 years of age Brown had itchy feet. In 1911 he left New Norfolk for the bustling lifestyle of Petersham in Sydney.

 

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I found this article last night in an old Reveille journal from June 1930.  Apart from the photos which I’ve added, the text remains as published.  The author was Joe Maxwell, the very same who won a DCM as a warrant officer near Westhoek, just a few days after the action described below.  The following year he would win the Military Cross twice, and just before the end of the war, the Victoria Cross at the Hindenburg Line. 

‘Anzac House’ was a large German Pillbox captured by Maxwell’s battalion (18th) during the Battle of Menin Road (on 20 Sept).  It lay on Anzac Ridge between Zonnebeke and Polygon Wood, but much nearer the latter.

The Flag: Anzac House by Joe Maxwell
The Reveille, June 1930, p 11.’A few minutes after we had captured our objective on September 20, 1917, Corps Headquarters was informed: “Objective reached.  Australian flag flying on Anzac House.”

The Australian papers featured this episode, and months later we received glowing accounts of a Digger rushing forward holding aloft an outsize in Australian flags.  Illustrated papers devoted a full page to feature the deed in colour – a deed which stirred the imagination of every patriotic Australian.  The French and English papers also elaborated on the initiative and bravery of this lone Australian soldier.

It may interest readers of “Reveille” to know the facts: Anzac House was the objective of B. Coy (18th Battalion), of which I at the time was company sergeant-major.  It was an exceptionally strong pill box, and our O.C. (Captain Jack O’Donnell) decided it would make an ideal company headquarters.  It contained a goodly supply of German schnapps, whisky and field dressings.

When a man was wounded he was promptly carried to Anzac House for attention.  I particularly remember one fellow, whose arm was blown to a pulp by a whiz-bang [shell from a German 77 mm artillery piece].  He was carried in on a stretcher, and, in addition to the wound, was suffering terribly from shock.  Between groans he prayed to be allowed to die.  We dressed his wound and poured about a pint of schnapps down his throat.  A few minutes later he jumped off the stretcher, helped himself to another “spot,” and remarked, “This’ll do me for a Blighty,” and headed it in that direction.

Everyone in “B” Coy. will remember little Teddie Bell (“Ding-Dong,” as he was affectionately called), who was 17 years of age.  His people had sent him a parcel in which was an Australian flag about 4 inches by 3 inches.

Teddie was a company runner, and during a break in his message carrying, stuck the flag in a tin of bully beef and placed it on the corner of Anzac House, from where it fluttered until blown to pieces by a shell later in the day.

In April, 1918, I stood by a stretcher, in the Fifth Field Dressing Station, on which little “Ding-Dong” lay.  My mind travelled back to the incident at Anzac House.  But “Ding-Dong’s” shattered arm did not auger Blighty for him.  As the evening shadows lengthened he died.  In the distance the rhythmic rumble of artillery seemed to sound a requiem to the spirit of one of the bravest little soldiers ever.’

The Battle of Polygon Wood was one of the most successful engagements Australian troops participated in during the Passchendaele campaign. On 26 September 1917, the 5th Australian Division successfully captured the German-held positions surrounding the Butte de Polygone, an earth mound that before the war had been the butt-stop of a rifle range.  By 1917 with the Germans on the defensive in the Ypres Salient, the Butte was a strategically important position dominating the immediate area, and blocking any further advance towards the Passchendaele ridge. It was the 5th Division’s first major engagement since the costly assault at Fromelles in July 1916.  The successful taking of Polygon Wood and the Butte was a proud moment in the division’s history. Success, however, came at a price.  Overall the the Australians suffered 5478 casualties in the battle, the majority being in the 5th Division (3723) and the 4th Division (1729) which was attacking immediately alongside the 5th, just north of Polygon Wood. 

One soldier in the 5th Division was Private Albert George Pegram (No. 3204) of 55th Battalion.  Polygon Wood was to be his first and only battle. A laborer from Bredbo in New South Wales, he pressured his father to sign his enlistment papers as soon as he turned 18, and joined the AIF on the 21 August 1916. Most of Albert’s cousins and friends had enlisted during the Men from Snowy River recruitment march as it passed through the Monaro region on the way to the training camp at Goulburn just months before. After training at Goulburn, Albert left Sydney on the 11 November 1916 as part of the 8th Reinforcements for the 55th Battalion.

He joined the battalion just in time for the Polygon Wood operation. The 55th Battalion was allocated the task of clearing the German pillboxes on the left flank of the wood whilst the 56th Battalion concentrated its efforts in taking the Butte. Under a barrage which raged in front of the infantry ‘like a Gippsland bushfire’, the infantry advanced and secured the wood within a matter of hours.

The 55th was frantically digging new positions in preparation for a German counter-attack when Albert was seriously wounded. A cousin was with him at the time, and wrote to the Pegram family to tell them that he had been shot in the stomach by a sniper whilst jumping across an exposed trench with the rest of his section. He was evacuated to the 17th Casualty Clearance Station near Poperinge, and succumbed to his wounds two days later.

Albert’s loss was painful for the Pegram family, who never had the means to visit his grave at Lijssenthoeck Military Cemetery, just west of Ypres. His nephew was born the day he died, and was consequently named after him.  Albert’s father would never forgive himself for signing his son’s enlistment papers, and his mother would take to her grave his war medals and his memorial plaque. Perhaps the most poignant is a small inscription dedicated to Albert in a Pegram family bible which reads:

‘In his lonely grave he lyes far from all he loved so dear’.

by Aaron Pegram

See also Albert Pegram’s personal service dossier online via the National Archives of Australia.

As haunting as any image of the ghosts of Passchendaele is this studio portrait photo of the Seabrook brothers, the sons of William and Fanny Seabrook of Five Dock in Sydney NSW.

Theo (age 25) and George (age 24) were both privates, while their younger brother William (age 20), with his previous military experience, soon made it to Second Lieutenant.  William had in fact joined the AIF back in August 1915, but this had somehow fallen through as he was discharged two months later.  At any rate, he joined up again with his two elder brothers in August 1916 and they left Sydney together as part of the 17th Reinforcements for the 17th Infantry Battalion. 

By the time they got over to Belgium to actually join their unit it was already June 1917 and preparations were well underway for the great offensive at Ypres.  The Battle of Menin Road that began on 20 September 1917 was the first engagement of Australian infantry in this offensive and proved a stunning success.

But despite this success, for the Seabrook boys it was their first, last and only battle.  All three were mortally wounded in action, and died in the days immediately afterwards.  For some the war was very short, but the sacrifice was nevertheless the full measure. 

One can scarcely begin to imagine what went through the minds of William and Fanny Seabrook, and how they might come to terms with this perhaps baffling and seemingly pointless loss of their three cherished sons.

William is buried at the Lijssenthoek Military Cemetery, just west of Ypres.  George and Theo’s remains were either never identified or never found, so they  are commemorated on the Menin Gate Memorial.

A key feature of the battlefield between Ypres and Passchendaele in 1917 was the pillbox.  Along with the dreadful conditions and intense artillery bombardments, pillboxes forced a particularly grim situation upon the combatants that led to very bitter and costly fighting.

The Germans had begun a program of building concrete field fortifications in the latter stages of 1916 and early 1917, particularly in their new defensive position along the Hindenburg Line.  With the increasing weight of British artillery superiority, these constructions offered the Germans a way for their front line troops to survive the massive bombardments, and to fight from them as well.  By mid 1917, they had acquired the nickname ‘pillbox’ among the British and Commonwealth troops.

Constructed of concrete reinforced with steel, with walls and roofs several feet thick, they were able to withstand even direct hits from all but the heaviest calibre shells.  The Germans called them Mannschafts Eisenbeton Unterstände (reinforced concrete shelters for troops) and as this name suggests, their primary role was to protect troops from artillery bombardments.  Indeed many of them performed just that role, lacking firing ports (embrasures).  Pillboxes in the proper meaning of the word, were those that both sheltered the troops and were designed to fight from as well.  Low and squat, they were built in many different sizes, some designed to house only half a dozen men, while others, the size of a single-car garage, might house 10-20 men.  Still others were even bigger (with some having two storeys) and might house up to 40.  Often, debris were stacked on the roofs and against the wall to break up the pillbox’s silhouette.  Another cunning design in the pillboxes was discovered later; the rear-facing walls were made much thinner and weaker, so if the Germans were forced to retreat from a pillbox, the new owners would find the wall facing the Germans was of little protection.

The terrain conditions in the Ypres salient, more than any other place, meant that pillboxes would play an important role there.  With a high water table and high rainfall, trenches proved largely impractical.  Coupled with the need for protection from the heavy artillery bombardments, pillboxes were the only practical solution for the German defenders.

As the ground rose gradually towards Passchendaele, the Germans built three main lines of defence to a depth of several miles, anchored on the ridges that rose gradually towards the village of Passchendaele. Hundreds of pillboxes and shelters were scattered throughout the area making it an exceptionally strong defensive system.  Well behind these pillbox lines waited the German counterattack troops and the massed German artillery in support. The defences also incorporated fortified farmyards and in some cases pillboxes were built inside existing houses.  The positions were cleverly sited to provide mutually supporting crossfire, backed up by separate concreted machine gun posts set in the open.

In the Ypres sector, many of the pillboxes were individually marked on detailed battle maps.  Like any features on the battlefield they were given names to identify them.  Pillboxes in the area had a variety of names such as Israel, Potsdam, Judah, Thames, Seine, Waterfields, Anzac, Helles, Kit, Kat, Hamburg and so on. The shelters and pillboxes were often used as first aid stations and as command and communication posts, the latter making them important tactical objectives.

The German method of front line defence was based upon the pillboxes.  From here the occupants could survive the worst of the bombardment and be ready to fight for the front line posts as soon as the British and Commonwealth infantry advanced in its wake.  Previous German defensive tactics were an ‘elastic’ style defence, where troops under heavy attack could fall back, while counterattacking forces held in reserve would then come forward in counterattack to win back the lost ground.  With the pillbox, the defensive tactics changed, the front line German infantry being ordered to stay and hold their positions.  Their presence would break up the formation of the attacking troops, and pin them down before the pillboxes so they lost touch with the advancing artillery barrage designed to protect them.  All this rendered the attackers much more vulnerable to the coming German counterattack.

Of course for the British offensive at Ypres to succeed, the ground had to be taken, and that meant the pillboxes which proved mostly impervious to artillery, had to be conquered by the infantry.  With the new German tactic of holding and fighting from the pillboxes, this inevitably meant these places became the scenes of numerous bitter struggles.

But despite their disadvantage the bravery and tenacity of the British and Commonwealth infantry eventually prevailed – albeit with tremendous loss of life.  Despite being relatively safe from the shelling inside their shelters and pillboxes, the German defenders were usually stunned and demoralised by the relentless heavy shelling, and a well-timed, spirited and determined attack would often prevail.

Moving forward in small groups in the immediate wake of a creeping barrage using fire and movement tactics, the attacking troops were able to work their way forward and put increasing pressure on the desperate German defenders.  Small parties would work their way around the sides and the rear of pillboxes, clearing the supporting machine gun posts on the flanks with bombs and bayonet.  Lewis gunners would spray the pillbox embrasures to try and suppress the firing coming from within, while Mills bombs and smoke bombs added to the pressure and confusion.  Sometimes particularly daring individuals would make it right up to the pillbox itself and try to shove bombs through the embrasures.  Once surrounded, most pillboxes were ultimately forced to surrender, although this often proved a dangerous moment to both attackers and defenders, and did not necessarily mean the fight was really over.  The Official History relates a few of these grim incidents that the Australians experienced:

‘Here, as in so many pillbox fights, confusion, fatal for the garrison, occurred through the weaker spirits being ready to surrender while some brave men continued to fire. As the first German came out with his hands up, another behind fired between his legs and wounded a sergeant of the 20th [Battalion]. “Get out of the way, sergeant,” shouted a Lewis gunner, “ I’ll see to the bastards,” and firing three or four bursts into the entrance he killed or wounded most of the crowd inside’ (Bean, Vol IV, p 766).

‘Captain Moore, a beloved officer, now ran towards the pillbox, but was immediately shot by a German who, according to the reports afterwards made, had already surrendered.  The Victorians at once killed this man and others, and only interposition by their officers stopped them from exterminating the whole garrison … Lieutenant-Colonel D. A. Luxton’s report says: “Captain F. L. Moore was mortally wounded by a man who had surrendered and who, when he saw an officer, dropped for the gun fired a burst, and put up his hands again.’ (Bean, Vol IV, p 771-772).

‘The mistakes commonly made in hot blood during this murderous pillbox fighting are illustrated by a terrible incident, which occurred that day and about that time, and which has been described by Lieutenant W. D. Joynt of the 8th Battalion himself afterwards a recipient of the Victoria Cross. He states that during this attack he came upon a wide circle of troops of his brigade surrounding a two-storied pillbox and firing at a loop hole in the upper story, from which shots were coming.  One man, coolly standing close below and firing up at it fell back killed but the Germans in the lower chamber soon afterwards surrendered. The circle of Australians at once assumed easy attitudes, and the prisoners were coming out when a shot was fired, killing an Australian. The shot came from the upper story whose inmates knew nothing of the surrender of the men below; but the surrounding troops were much too heated to realise this. To them the deed appeared to he the vilest treachery, and they forthwith bayonetted the prisoners. One Victorian, about to bayonet a German, found that his own bayonet was not on his rifle. While the wretched prisoner implored him for mercy, be grimly fixed it and then bayonetted the man. The Germans in this case were entirely innocent, but such incidents are inevitable in the heat of battle, and any blame for them lies with those who make wars, not with those who fight them’ (Bean, Vol IV, p 771-772).

Hand in hand with these ferocious little battles and momentary absences of mercy, came many deeds of great courage and bravery:

‘… a series of gallant attacks on those in pillboxes then began. From the roof of one of these a machine-gun was firing. Sergeant McGee ran forward fifty yards and shot the crew with his revolver. The next blockhouse, “Hamburg,” was charged by Lieutenant Meagher as of the mopping-up company, who had advanced in answer to a signal to fill a gap. He was killed, but Lieutenant Grant continued to lead, and the place was captured together with 25 prisoners and four machine-guns. The right was strengthened by Captain Dumaresq with part of the reserve company, and, [the 40th Bn] together with the neighbouring part of the 41st under Captain Redmond and Lieutenants Fraser and Price, it fought down pillbox after pillbox, practically every blockhouse being taken by some act of individual daring.  After the objective was reached, a group of eight German officers or N.C.O’s still fought on, in a pillbox ahead on the left, until killed.’ (Bean, Vol IV, p 865).

And so it is hardly surprising that numerous Victoria Crosses were won attacking pillboxes at Ypres throughout the British and Commonwealth armies.  And not to forget, many other high decorations for bravery such as DSOs, MCs and DCMs were similarly awarded.  Seven Australians in fact won the VC attacking pillboxes during 1917.

• Second Lieutenant Frederick Birks (Menin Road)
• Private Patrick Budgen (Polygon Wood)
• Captain Robert Grieve (Messines)
• Private Roy Inwood (Polygon Wood)
• Captain Clarence Jeffries (Passchendaele II)
• Sergeant Lewis McGee (Broodseinde)
• Lieutenant Rupert Moon (Bullecourt)

See article on Victoria Crosses of 1917.

Read more on pillbox fighting of the Australians at Messines: Official History, Vol IV, Ch 15, pp 623-627.

Sources

Pillboxes on the Western Front: a guide to the design, construction and use of concrete pill boxes 1914-1918 / Peter Oldham, (1995), Pen & Sword Books.

Official History of Australia in the War of 1914-1918: Volume IV – The Australian Imperial Force in France, 1917 / C. E. W. Bean (1933).

Along with the intensity of the fighting, the horrendous conditions and the heavy losses of Passchendaele, there is another reason why this campaign universally symbolises such great loss, tragedy and futility above others of the First World War.  This is simply because such a high percentage of men experienced it.  During the three and a half months it lasted, just over fifty British and Commonwealth infantry divisions, and almost one hundred German ones were committed.  It is therefore reasonable to say that about one and a half million men witnessed this battlefield first-hand.

In such a tiny sector of the front, it is difficult to fathom how so many men could have been involved.  Across the whole frontage of the sector, only about 10 miles in width, both sides would normally have 10-15 divisions at any one time.  But behind them in reserve positions lurked many more, ready to come up in support to either exploit a breakthrough, or (in the case of the Germans), stop one.  Due to the intensity of the battle, some units would go into the front line and be decimated in a matter of days so they had to be pulled out and replaced by another division.  This went on over and over again; some divisions went in only once, while others were committed several times.  It is also worth noting that as the campaign progressed, the frontage under attack gradually narrowed until at the end, it was barely one mile in width (see map at bottom of this article)

Other arms of service supporting the infantry were also in the thick of the action, especially artillery, engineers, supplies, signals, tanks and medical services to name a few.  In the case of the Australians for example, while their infantry was committed to six of the eight phases of the campaign, their artillery was involved for its entirety.

The following illustrates the high proportion of divisions committed to Passchendaele throughout the second half of 1917:

• 88 of Germany’s 212 divisions, representing approximately 40 % of their army.  Many other German divisions spent almost the entire war on the Eastern Front, or opposing the French in the southeastern sectors of the Western Front.
• 41 of the British Army’s 66 divisions (nearly two-thirds).
• All four Canadian divisions.
• New Zealand’s one and only division.
• All five Australian divisions.

A useful comparison is the dreadful campaign at Verdun; during this ten-month ordeal in 1916 that cost at least 700,000 French and German casualties, three-quarters of the infantry divisions in the French Army went through it.  For the French, Verdun is symbolic of their great sacrifice and the main focal point of their commemoration.

Total casualties at Passchendaele are estimated at 475,000; about 275,000 British and Commonwealth and about 200,000 German.  38,000 Australians, 15,654 Canadians and 5,300 New Zealanders fell there, either killed, wounded or missing.  Especially for these smaller nations, Passchendaele was their most costly engagement of the war, indeed their entire military history.  Because of the scale of losses and the fact that the Commonwealth nations committed their entire forces to the campaign, it was sadly not uncommon for families to lose several members during it (see article on Polygon Wood battle).

With these statistics in mind it is little wonder that after the war ended, the Ypres-Passchendaele area quickly became the focal point for commemoration for all the nations involved in this terrible campaign, and remains so to this day.

The Third Battle of Ypres (a.k.a the Battle of Passchendaele) that began on 31 July 1917 was a series of pushes from the Ypres Salient eastwards to the village of Passchendaele atop the final ridge. The Australian infantry first became involved on 20 September in the Battle of Menin Road, spearheaded by the 1st and 2nd Australian Divisions in the centre, with five British divisions on their flanks. The result was a complete success. The next push was set to commence on 26 September with the 4th and 5th Australian Divisions taking the lead this time. Australians would come to know this battle as ‘Polygon Wood’. The objectives on this occasion were to advance approximately 900 yards, capturing the remainder of Polygon Wood in the first stage, then a few hundred metres more to capture a section of the main German defensive line known as ‘Flandern I’.

The 5th Australian Division would attack with its 14th and 15th Brigades. One of the 14th Brigade’s four battalions involved was the 56th. This battalion had been raised in February 1916 in Egypt, with half its establishment coming from the older 4th Battalion and the remainder being new recruits. Most of the battalion were New South Welshmen. Their first taste of action as a unit was the disastrous Battle of Fromelles in July 1916, where having the good fortune of being in reserve, their casualties were light. Then in early 1917 they saw their next lot of fighting before the Hindenburg Line and at Bullecourt. In early August they moved north to Flanders for the great offensive at Ypres.

The 56th Battalion was commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Humphrey Scott, DSO of Wahroonga, Sydney, only 26 years old and a hero of Lone Pine, Gallipoli. This much admired young leader was ably supported by a host of similarly young officers, all talented and brave leaders in their own right. In charge of A Company was the youthful Captain Vernon Smythe, just 23 years old, but a veteran of the Gallipoli Landing and Fromelles where he won the Military Cross. B Company was commanded by Temporary Captain Raymond Single a 31 year old accountant from Mudgee. C Company was led by Captain Hubert Thompson, also 31 and a solicitor from Bathurst. D Company was commanded by Captain Norman Plomley, 25 years old from Manly in Sydney. Plomley also held the Military Cross for his brave and resourceful leadership at Bullecourt earlier in 1917. In fact all four company commanders had cut their teeth at Gallipoli and rapidly risen through the ranks. On account of their battalion number, they adopted the nickname ‘The Half Hundredweights’ (i.e. a hundredweight being 112 pounds, and 56 being half that).

Left to Right: Lieutenant Colonel Alan ‘Humphrey’ Scott DSO, Officer Commanding 56th Battalion; Captain Vernon Smythe MC; Captain Raymond Single; Captain Hubert Thompson.

Unfortunately the 56th did not produce a battalion history after the war, however from their unit war diaries, the files of the Red Cross Wounded and Missing Enquiry Bureau, the AIF Official History and the letters and diaries of men who served in the battalion, we can gain a reasonably clear picture of their ordeal at Polygon Wood.

At 7:30 pm on the evening of 25 September, Scott held a conference with his company commanders. At this meeting he informed them that zero hour for the attack was 5:30 am the next morning, Wednesday 26 September. This was later postponed to 5:50 am. He also gave instructions regarding the methods to be adopted in the attack, what to do when resistance was encountered, and particularly stressed that the attacking troops must follow their protective artillery barrage closely. Raymond Single had been wounded in the arm a couple of days before, but chose to remain on duty.

During the night of the 25th, the battalion moved up for the attack through Glencorse Wood and Nonne Bosschen through continuous shelling. Shortly after 1:00 am whilst moving up to their jumping off point, the battalion suffered a bad setback when a shell killed two members of the headquarters staff including their medical officer, Captain George Elliott, the younger brother of the 15th Brigade’s commander Brigadier ‘Pompey’ Elliott. Pressing on, the battalion set up headquarters in a blockhouse just behind the line. By 3:46 am they had made it to the start line for the attack and wired the codeword ‘Manly’ to brigade headquarters indicating their arrival and readiness.

53rd Battalion was to take the first objective (Red Line), which included all of Polygon Wood and the important Butte feature (a prominent earthen mound), at its eastern end. After a short pause to consolidate and reorganise, the 55th and 56th would then press on and take the second objective (Blue Line). This second objective was the capture of the major German defensive line (Flandern I), portions of which had the codenames Jetty and Jubilee.

The battlefield at Polygon Wood: At left a long shot of the area with the Butte looming in the distance. Centre: a closer view of the Butte which hosted a network of German dugouts, tunnels and shelters. Right: an aerial photo of Polygon Wood showing the utter devastation caused by incessant shelling.

The attack commenced at 5:50 am with a mighty barrage, the most powerful and awe-inspiring any of the men had ever seen. Next, the men stood up, fixed bayonets, and as one man described, shook off their nerves and tension of the past few hours with nearly every man lighting up a pipe or cigarette they’d been craving. They advanced in waves behind the barrage, which the Official Historian likened to a massive ‘Gippsland bushfire’, roaring slowly and inexorably across the landscape. The men following closely behind this creeping barrage quickly overran the German defenders, who were stunned and depleted by the intensity of the barrage. A few sharp fights occurred around some concrete pillboxes but these were quickly dispensed with. No quarter was given except to those who surrendered quickly, while the more resolute German machine gunners and snipers were ruthlessly hunted and killed.

The German defenders in the Polygon Wood area comprised elements of the 3rd Reserve and 220th Divisions, and later in the day the 50th Reserve Division. The morale of the 3rd Reserve Division in particular was very poor even before the battle. This division had until only a few weeks ago been exclusively on the Eastern Front, and were now getting their first taste of the intensity of battle on the Western Front. In particular the division’s 49th Reserve Infantry Regiment had problems with a high desertion rate and among some of their number, a refusal to attack on this day of battle. Australian battlefield intelligence confirmed this, describing the prisoners taken from the 3rd Reserve Division as ‘rather rattled.’

The attack was progressing very well indeed. But shortly after 6:00 am a message arrived at headquarters from B Company stating that they had ‘lost Captain Single, presumably killed.’

The second phase of the attack commenced at 7:30 am with the 55th and 56th Battalions pushing further on and capturing the Flandern I line and clearing the enemy pillboxes immediately beyond it. In this final action Captain Smythe led an attack with some of his men on a troublesome pillbox and cleared it. Also prominent was Colonel Scott’s younger brother, Lieutenant Lee Scott, who led a party to secure the battalion’s right flank, which was for a while dangerously exposed.

At 8:20 am a runner from D Company delivered a message to battalion headquarters confirming that Captain Single had been killed in action. One of his lieutenants had taken charge of his company. It was also reported that Captain Thompson of C Company was ‘OK’. Only later was it learned that Single had been killed by a shot through the head, presumably from an enemy sniper prior to the commencement of the attack.

According to Company Sergeant Major Sidney Dewey of C Company, this happened sometime shortly after 5:00 am, before the attack commenced. He wrote,

‘A captain from B Company [Captain Single], a noted cricketer, came to visit the company commander of C Company [Captain Thompson], and had a luminous watch on his wrist. He was being told about how his watch showed up in the dark when crack went a bullet. The thought of the company commander and his company sergeant major was that he had yawned, but as he seemed to stay in the sitting position something was said to him, but no answer. He had been shot dead, and there is no doubt it was his watch that directed the fire of the vigilant Hun sniper.’ (Private papers of CSM S. C. Dewey, 3DRL/6620).

Although there were the usual variations on how he died, most witnesses supported Dewey’s account.

With their objectives met, the men of the 56th and their neighbouring battalions spent the remainder of the day consolidating and strengthening their newly won positions. During the afternoon the Germans made a concerted effort to counterattack but this was broken up at length by the protective artillery fire and the machine guns immediately set up in the forward posts and atop the Butte. At 7:30 pm the battalion reported they had sustained 109 casualties including nine officers so far. At 8:30 pm, 56th Battalion established its headquarters at the Butte on the eastern edge of Polygon Wood. But later that night it was reported that Hubert Thompson, commanding C Company had been killed by a shell.

14th Brigade had taken this important ground, capturing 439 Germans and 34 of their machine guns. The remainder had been killed or put to flight. Ultimately 14th Brigade suffered 1,100 casualties, with the 56th Battalion losing 255 of those.

For their actions at Polygon Wood, Smythe was awarded a second Military Cross, Lee Scott a Military Cross, and Plomley a second Military Cross. Hubert Thompson was recommended for a Military Cross as well, but unfortunately this was not granted. With the new positions consolidated, preparations began in earnest for the next push scheduled to begin on 4 October, with the vital Broodseinde Ridge as its objective. Sadly, only a few days later on 1 October as the 56th was about to come out of the frontline, their much loved commander Humphrey Scott was shot dead by a sniper at the Polygon Wood Butte whilst showing the front line positions to a relieving British unit.

The deaths of Scott, the two staff officers and two company commanders was a grievous loss to the battalion. But the loss of Captains Single and Thompson would be more keenly felt back in Australia, for Raymond Single and Hubert Thompson were cousins. And to further compound a disastrous day for the family, another cousin, 23-year-old Wilfred Single was also killed on 26 September, serving with the 29th Battalion, operating just a few hundred yards away on the 56th’s flank. Wilfred was wounded in the arm at some stage during the attack and was sent to the rear for treatment, escorting two German prisoners on the way. A sniper shot him through the back of the neck and he was killed instantly.

All three men were descendants of the grazier John Single (1791-1858), who in 1822 built Nepean House at Castlereagh (just west of Sydney), and pioneered the northwest plains of New South Wales. Thirty-three of John Single’s grandsons or great grandsons served in the First World War. Of this extended family, nine did not return, either being killed in action or dying of disease. Their sacrifice plots a virtual map of the momentous battles of the AIF during the war:

• John Digby (Gallipoli, 1915)
• Percy Single (Pozières, 1916)
• Gordon Yeoman (Died of Disease, France 1916)
• Alexander Frank Fraser (Passchendaele, 1917)
• Horace Thompson (Hill 60, Belgium 1918)
• Francis Digby (Mont St Quentin, 1918)

And of course the three who died on that fateful day, 26 September 1917 at Polygon Wood.

Humphrey Scott’s body was recovered and he now lies near where he fell in the Buttes War Cemetery, Polygon Wood. Raymond, Hubert and Wilfred were all given battlefield burials, however due to the intense shelling and the subsequent heavy rain, their remains were either never found again, or never identified. Their sacrifice is therefore commemorated on the Menin Gate Memorial to the Missing.

The author of the above article along with a colleague at the Memorial are now researching and writing a complete unit history of the 56th Battalion. It will be published as part of the Australian Army History Publications Series, sometime in 2009. The authors would be very grateful to hear from members of the public who might have information, letters, diaries or photos of any men who served in the 56th. Contact: Craig.Tibbitts@awm.gov.au or phone (02) 6243 4318.  Alternatively visit the project’s new blog.

The following extract is from C. E. W. Bean’s Official History, Volume IV, pp 729-730.  It highlights an often overlooked branch of the AIF during their most gruelling trial at Ypres during 1917.

From the August fighting [at Ypres in 1917], the Australian infantry was so fortunate as to be spared, but the detached artillery bore its share. That of the 2nd Division, whose new battery positions were north of Hill 60, now began to suffer severely, but the impact of the suffering had somewhat changed; in this morass of a battlefield the services of supply bore a heavy share of the strain.  A war correspondent records on August 17th a statement of Major Manton, whose battery, the 15th, had so far lost 35 men.

Manton said that in this phase of the battle the palm should go, not to those who, like himself, worked at the battery positions, but to the drivers from the waggon-lines at Dickebusch, who daily and nightly brought up ammunition across the mud.

‘It was looked on almost as a cold-footed job before,’ Manton said, ‘one which did not take a man into action.  But . . . . like all those Australians who were supposed to be in fairly safe jobs, the drivers took a pride in showing what they could do when they came into the thick of it.’

He added that even the animals came to know when a shell was coming close; and if, when halted, the horses heard the whine of an approaching salvo, they would tremble and sidle closer to their drivers, burying their muzzles in the men’s chests.

These Australians (he added) had won themselves a special name on this battlefield for the way in which they went straight through the nightmare barrages laid on the well known tracks which they and their horses had to follow.  Where many might hesitate, these men realised that the loss would be less, and the job better done, if they pushed on without hesitation. This comment was justified.  It was undoubtedly through the conduct of the drivers, as well as through that of the gun-crews and observers, that the Australian divisional artilleries in this battle – as General Gough wrote when they left his army in September – ‘earned the admiration and praise of all.’

                            

Read C. E. W. Bean’s Official History online, Volume IV, pp 729-730

Swamp around Zonnebeke, Oct 1917 (E01200) E01200

When considering the Battle of Passchendaele in 1917, what immediately springs to mind is a desolate, shattered landscape of mud.  So when looking through the photographs of this battle here on the blog, and in the exhibition, it may be puzzling that some depict this morass with men and horses up to their waists in mud, yet many others show a rather dry and dusty landscape.  The answer is that this was a lengthy campaign (July to November), and the weather conditions proved quite changeable and fickle.  The same applies to the Somme Offensive which ran for a similar period during the previous year.  The other factor at Ypres was the physical characteristics of this part of Flanders.  The water table in this area is very high and indeed parts of the battlefield were swamp or reclaimed swamp.  So even when the surface appeared dry, it could in places be sodden below the crust and digging into the ground even to a shallow depth would invite water.  Naturally the blanket coverage of shell craters only made the situation worse.

According to Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson in Passchendaele: the untold story (p 97), during August 1917, 127 mm of rain fell in Flanders, which was double the normal average for that month.  October also proved another very wet month, with 30 mm of rain falling in just the five-day period 4-9 October (pp 126, 159).  However the month of September was mostly dry and this coincided with the three major pushes that the Australians spearheaded in the Ypres sector (Menin Road 20 Sept, Polygon Wood 26 Sept, and Broodseinde 4 Oct).  During these attacks the troops marvelled at how strong and utterly dominant their supporting artillery fire was. 

But in the afternoon of 4 October, right after the Broodseinde operation had been completed (it was over by noon), the weather broke and the rain set in, quickly turning the devastated battlefield into a quagmire.  In these conditions it was impossible to drag forward enough artillery and ammunition to maintain such strong support.  So the troops that attacked in the wet after 4 October noticed a dramatic drop-off in supporting artillery fire to the point where at times it was barely noticeable.  Another pitiful result was the greatly increased difficulty of evacuating the wounded.  The decision therefore to continue the offensive and capture Passchendaele in the rain and mud was a weighty one.  As C. E. W. Bean later wrote,

‘In these circumstances Haig made the most questioned decision of his career.’ (Bean, Vol IV, p 883).

Interestingly, at this point Field Marshal Sir Douglas Haig acknowledged the weather and terrain problems, telling war correspondents on 11 October:

‘It was simply the mud which defeated us on Tuesday [9 October].  The men did splendidly to get through it as they did.  But the Flanders mud, as you know, is not a new invention.  It has a name in history – it has defeated other armies before this one…’ (quoted in Bean, Official History, Vol IV, p 908).

One wonders with this admission of the difficulties presented, why Haig then persisted with the offensive.  However it must be considered that there were real dangers in halting the offensive where they stood.  They were still short of the final ridge at Passchendaele and had they remained short of it, it would have been very difficult and costly in lives to hold such a poor position.  So perhaps it can be argued that the final push to capture Passchendaele through the dreadful mud of October and November was a combination of this tactical necessity, Haig’s perception of an imminent German collapse and his desire to see his grand plan through to a successful conclusion.

For the Germans the onset of rain was a Heaven-sent.  Indeed Crown Prince Rupprecht of Bavaria, the Field Marshal in command of the entire northern sector of the Western Front (i.e. that principally opposing the British and Commonwealth forces), made a relieved note in his diary;

12 October 1917

‘Witterungsumschlag.  Erfreulicherweise Regen, unser wirksamster bundesgenosse.’

(trans. Sudden change of weather.  Most fortunate rain, our most effective ally).

It should also be remembered that despite these dreadful conditions and the grievous losses, the British Army and its Commonwealth troops did succeed in capturing Passchendaele and part of the final ridge.  It was the Canadian Corps that finally achieved this on 6 November.  The Canadians would by 1918 become past masters at providing massive artillery support for their infantry, but in the mud before Passchendaele in November 1917, these techniques they were trying to perfect must have been greatly frustrated.  With this in mind, their capture of Passchendaele is all the more impressive.

Finally, in one of the war’s ‘what ifs’, it may well be speculated that the offensive at Ypres during 1917 might have succeeded had it gotten underway several weeks earlier, and the final ridge at Passchendaele been captured in early October, before the weather really broke.  One can only wonder…

Overview

After mid-1917, and following mutinies in the over-strained French Army, the British Forces had to assume an even greater role in the war on the Western Front. For Field Marshal Sir Douglas Haig, the British commander-in-chief, this provided an opportunity to launch an offensive that he had long wanted. Attacking from Ypres in Belgium, he planned to drive the Germans from the surrounding dominant ridges and even hoped to reach the Belgian coast. Following on the success at Messines in June, he unleashed his great attack on 31 July 1917. Fighting went on, often in appalling weather and despite crippling losses, until November. Finally, with the army stuck in muddy fields churned up by the artillery fire, the bloody offensive came to an untidy close. Many would afterwards call this offensive, actually a series of battles, after the name of the village that had become the last objective – ‘Passchendaele’.

Basic Map: Ypres to Passchendaele

Menin Road and Polygon Wood

The Australian infantry divisions joined the Third Battle of Ypres which had been going on since 31 July when they took part in the battle of Menin Road on 20 September 1917. Fortunately a change in the weather brought for them better fighting conditions. The side-by-side advance of the 1st and 2nd Australian Divisions took them up to the splintered remnants of Polygon Wood not far from Zonnebeke. The 4th and 5th Divisions then took over and, as part of the wider effort, they attacked on 26 September. In both cases the fighting was bloody. German concrete pillboxes often blocked the Australians’ progress, and many men fell under shell and machine-gun fire. However with heavy artillery support the objectives were taken and enemy counter-attacks held off. These systematic step-by-step advances, staying within range of the supporting artillery, pushed the line forward by a few kilometres, but they were made at a heavy cost; in just over a week there were almost 11,000 Australian casualties.

Aerial and ground-level photographs taken of the Polygon Wood area. Note the difference in destruction between the first aerial photo (July) and the next two (September) when virtually every inch of the ground had been destroyed and badly cratered. The misery only increased as the landscape filled with water.

It was on the Menin Road that I first noticed the condition (of) our men coming back. A couple passed us, going very slow. They were white and drawn. C.E.W. Bean.

Broodseinde and Passchendaele

The 1st, 2nd and 3rd Australian Divisions captured Broodseinde Ridge on 4 October 1917. It was a vital victory. But, then it began to rain. Five days later the 2nd Australian Division suffered heavily in a further attack in the mud. Finally, on 12 October, another attack, involving the 3rd Division assisted by the 4th, was made against the village of Passchendaele atop the main ridge. In the face of heavy fire, the men fought in the mire while struggling to keep up with their artillery barrages. Ground was taken but it could not be held. In wretched conditions, with casualties mounting at an appalling rate, the Australians had to fall back. The troops were finally exhausted and could do no more; by 15 November they handed over to the Canadians.

I have often thought that many a youngster when he was hit out there on the Passchendaele heights … and he knew that the end had come – must have thought to himself: “well at least they’ll remember me in Australia”. C.E.W. Bean

Read more about the Battle of Passchendaele (Third Ypres)
Anzac to Amiens by C. E. W. Bean, Chapter XXI (20 pages)
Official History by C. E. W. Bean, Vol. IV, Chapters XVII – XXII (270 pages)