The First Day on the Somme

Zero Hour

Exactly at 7.30 a.m. an uncanny silence fell over the battlefield. The British barrage suddenly ceased as it lifted from the German front line and gun-layers adjusted their sights for the next target. By a strange coincidence, the German guns, too, were silent. It was eerie; the sun was shining out of a cloudless sky, birds hovered and swooped over the trenches, singing clearly. To the men it seemed a weird anti-climax. 'Suddenly, for a few seconds, all seemed silent, the firing had quietened down. I walked up and down the footboards saying to the men, "It's a walk-over." I had almost a feeling of disappointment. It was short lived.' (Lieut M. Asquith, 1st Barnsley Pals)

After a few seconds the quiet was shattered as the British barrage fell upon the next line of enemy defences. In their own trenches whistles blew, shouts came from the platoon and section commanders. The Battle of the Somme had started.

The first away were those lying out in No Man's Land. The long lines rose, men looked to left and right as if to correct their dressing on a parade ground and set off after their officers at the steady, well-rehearsed pace towards the enemy. There was no rushing, no shouting.

For most, however, it was a case of over the top. First up the ladders were the platoon commanders; behind them the heavily loaded men struggled to get out quickly, urged on by those following. Officers ran along the parapet shouting encouragement, leaning in and giving a hand to pull the over-burdened soldiers up and out.

Before these men could form up in their waves they had first to pass through their own barbed-wire defences. Some units took duck-boards over with them and placed these on the wire to make bridges, but most had to file through paths cut the previous night before they could get into the open. Now that the action had begun most men lost their fear; they knew what they had to do, their friends were all around them, their officers leading. They pushed through the wire and took their places in the waves.

 

The Germans, however, were alert; their reaction was swift and deadly. An attacker at Gommecourt could hear a bugle as a look-out called the Germans from their dug-outs to man the trenches. The first machine-guns were soon in action and found easy targets. British soldiers struggling out of their trenches were hit and tumbled back, some dead before they fell. 'The German machine-gun fire was terrible. Our colonel was hit after only a few steps along the trench. I helped to prop him up against the trench side. Then, we climbed on to the top of the trench. I had not reached my full height when a machine-gun bullet smacked into my steel helmet. I felt as if I had been hit with a sledge hammer. I caught a glimpse of my helmet; it was completely smashed in.' (Pte W. H. T. Carter, 1st Bradford Pals)

The Germans spotted some of the gaps in the British wire and their machine-guns soon turned these narrow alleys into death-traps; men trying to avoid their dead and wounded comrades got caught and were themselves hit.

In spite of the unexpected opposition there was no hesitation as more and more men left the trenches and, if they could, formed up into their waves. They were bewildered; the Germans were all supposed to be dead. 'We had no idea what it was going to be like but a few yards from our trench, a Whizz Bang caught my platoon sergeant in the throat and his head disappeared.' (Pte J. Devennie, Derry Volunteers) There was no time for logical thought; discipline and training took control of their bodily movements. 'The only feeling I had was to get to the objective and stay there and the thought that was uppermost in my mind was the phrase "For England", which I seemed to be repeating continually. This is the truth and not put in for heroics. To be perfectly truthful, I was scared stiff.' (Pte W. L. P. Dunn, 1st Liverpool Pals)

At Gommecourt, the attack by the North Midland Division started badly; everything seemed to be going wrong. This sector had had the worst of the wet weather and some of the men had spent the night up to their knees or waists in mud and water. The German shelling had been very heavy during the night and there had been many casualties. A smoke-screen, although it may have shielded the attackers from the enemy, combined in some cases with a liberal rum issue to cause confusion. On the extreme left Bugler Bill Soar went over with the second wave of his battalion but it was impossible to get the men lined up properly. Soar and those others who could be mustered were formed up in makeshift fashion and set off into the smoke-screen towards the German trenches.

In the 8th East Surreys, Capt. NevilFs four platoons, each with a football, competed for their company commander's prize. Nevill himself kicked off. 'As the gun-fire died away I saw an infantryman climb onto the parapet into No Man's Land, beckoning others to follow. As he did so he kicked off a football; a good kick, the ball rose and travelled well towards the German line. That seemed to be the signal to advance.' (Pte L. S. Price, 8th Royal Sussex).

Those who had been able to get out of their trenches and form up into waves without being fired upon started their advance. As far as the eye could see, lines of men moved forward, their rifles held across their chests, bayonets glinting in the morning sun. 'As we advanced out of our trenches the sun was shining gloriously and it seemed as if every bird in the sky was trying to outsing the noise of the guns.' (L/Cpl L. C. Palmer, Glasgow Commercials) At La Boisselle another sound competed with the din of battle; the four Tyneside Scottish battalions' pipers played their men into action.

When the Sheffield City Battalion men went over they looked for the white tapes left out the previous night to guide them to the gaps in the German wire, but the tapes were gone. The Germans had pulled them in during the night.

All along the eighteen-mile front, the leading waves paced farther across No Man's Land, into ground where no man had stood in daylight for nearly two years. There were, as yet, few shell holes here and animals were still living amid the wild flowers and rank summer grass. At Gommecourt a subaltern in the London Division disturbed a hare which ran off from under his feet and across the battlefield; both were startled by the encounter.

It was in these open spaces in the middle of No Man's Land that the German machine-gunners found their choicest targets. From their trenches came the 'tac-tac-tac' of the guns as they traversed to and fro along the endless lines of advancing men. Whole waves were swept over by the fire. The dead lay in long rows where they had fallen, the wounded lay with them, pretending to be dead, or took cover wherever they could — in a fold in the ground, in one of the rare shell holes. Many huddled behind the body of a dead comrade. If a wave or part of it was missed by the first sweep, back would come the traverse of fire seeking out the survivors.'The long line of men came forward, rifles at the port as ordered. Now Gerry started. His machine-guns let fly. Down they all went. I could see them dropping one after another as the gun swept along them. The officer went down at exactly the same time as the man behind him. Another minute or so and another wave came forward. Gerry was ready this time and this lot did not get so far as the others.' (Pte W. J. Senescall, The Cambridge Battalion)

'For some reason nothing seemed to happen to us at first; we strolled along as though walking in a park. Then, suddenly, we were in the midst of a storm of machine-gun bullets and I saw men beginning to twirl round and fall in all kinds of curious ways as they were hit — quite unlike the way actors do it in films.' (Pte W. Slater, 2nd Bradford Pals)

Just outside Mametz, the 9th Devons did not attack from their front-line trench which had been badly damaged by shell fire, but from the support line. As Capt. Martin led his company forward at zero hour, they were for some time sheltered by the small hill at Mansel Copse but, as the Devons topped the rise and moved downhill, they were in full view of any enemy who might have survived the bombardment.

A single machine-gun, built into the base of the crucifix on the edge of the village, exactly where Capt. Martin had forecast, was only 400 yards away - easy range for a competent machine-gunner. The crew had survived; the gun was not damaged and, when it opened fire, it caught the Devons on the exposed slope. Scores of men went down, among them Capt. Martin, killed at the exact spot by Mansel Copse that he had predicted from his model would be where his company would be doomed.

In spite of the terrible fire, the infantry kept going. Although the leading waves had been broken, individual survivors kept to their steady, disciplined pace . . .