XX THE FIGHTING ROUND WATERLOT FARM

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July 30

There was some infantry fighting to-day in co-operation with the French on our right wing, and as far as our own troops were concerned some progress was made to the east of Waterlot Farm, which is on the road going down from Longueval to Guillemont. It was a very hot day, with a scorching sun, but artillery observation was not easy during certain hours owing to a rather thick haze. In spite of this our guns maintained a heavy bombardment upon the enemy’s line in support of our troops, who advanced over difficult ground.

Many prisoners surrendered at an early stage of this progress, one batch of 170 men being captured first and other groups being rounded up later, bringing the total number to something more than 200.

It was rather more than a week ago that some of our men pushed our line down from Longueval to Waterlot Farm, on the road to Guillemont, which they held against repeated attacks.

The Germans are very busy digging new trenches to the east of the road, and through these they are able to send up bombing parties and machine-gunners to protect the northern and western approaches to the ruins of Guillemont itself.

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The first forward movement from Waterlot Farm was made by some Scots who had already been fighting hard since July 14, when they helped to break the second German line. These Scots, whom I have met in many fields of war during the past year or more, had done well elsewhere, and chased the enemy out of his lines. They were grim men, and ready for a new “crack at the ould Boche” when they took over from another regiment at Waterlot Farm, south of Delville Wood. It was not a farm such as Caldecott would have drawn for his coloured picture-book. There were no cows or sheep in the neighbourhood. It was a collection of ruined buildings and yards which the enemy seems to have used as a dumping ground for old iron and machinery. There were several derelict engines here, and a steel cupola for a heavy gun-emplacement, like those at Liège in the early days of the war, and a litter of wheels and rods and wire, mostly smashed by our shell fire. As a farm it left much to be desired, but the Scots settled down here and made themselves as comfortable as possible in the circumstances.

In the darkness of that night and the next patrols went out to discover the strength of the enemy. Our young officers and their men, crawling forward over the broken ground, satisfied themselves that “the Boche” was there in strength. They only had to listen to the patter of bullets which whipped the grass to know that he had plenty of machine-guns unpleasantly near.

Those who had not met any of those bullets came back with their reports, and the artillery bombarded the enemy’s trenches to make the work of the infantry easier. An advance was made from the farm before dawn, led by bombing parties of the Scots.

It was a quiet and silent walk. The enemy’s machine-guns were chattering a little, but there was no great fire, and the Scots reached a trench north of the railway line with only three men and one officer wounded. “That’s nothing,” said the officer, and he carried on.

It was impossible to go further at that time. The enemy were holding, very strongly, a trench immediately across the railway line, and they had dug a nest of new trenches on the east of the road, from which they could enfilade our men with rifle and machine-gun fire.

The Scots got well down into a trench which was mostly a series of shell-craters, and looked to their rifles and bombs. There was not much doubt as to what was coming. It came down the main road from Guillemont—a large force of German soldiers with machine-guns.

At the same time, from the trench parallel with ours, the Germans sprang on to their parapets and came over. The Scots were hardly strong enough to resist these attacks supported by enfilade fire. They were ordered to fall back, and the retirement was carried out without disorder—to say “without panic” would be ridiculous to these men who have fought a score of battles since they came to France—and it was covered by the machine-gunners, who remained as a rearguard, sweeping down the advanced parties of the enemy, so as to gain time for our men to get back.

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A second move from Waterlot Farm was made by the same Scots, supported by other troops. The enemy suffered badly. A very strong force of German bombers made a brave counter-attack on the Scots, but were caught by rifle and machine-gun fire, and fell almost to a man.

“Practically wiped out” was the way in which an officer of the Scots described it. During the afternoon a patrol of our snipers went out on a hunting expedition and sighted a party of Germans carrying down ammunition boxes. Not all of them reached their journey’s end, for the Scottish snipers are good shots.

Some of the German soldiers were sick of the business, and had had too much shell-fire. When dusk was creeping over the countryside a group of them came out of a ruined farm—it had really been a farm in the old days of peace—standing on the left of the main road to Guillemont.

They came holding up their hands as a sign of surrender, and some of the Scots went out to bring them in. But the enemy in the trenches beyond opened fire on their own countrymen, and some of our own were killed and wounded.

When, later on, another party came out, they were not received in a friendly spirit.... That night the Scottish stretcher-bearers went out to bring in their wounded, and they found among them one man of theirs who had been discovered by a German patrol, but left behind because he gave them his water to drink. They thanked him, and said “Good luck, and a safe return to your own lines!” but when they went away he thought he had been left to die.