Springboks, Troepies and Cadres. David Williams
Colonel William Tanner was ordered into the fray to capture the wood. Tanner was popular and respected; one of his men wrote that “Tanner took us in and he stayed with us there. His headquarters was Longueval, right on the edge of the wood. He was a man’s officer. You could go to him, or the corporal could, or the lieutenant, and he’d listen. He was our friend. We’d have followed him through any fire, anywhere. He was a trim, wiry man, and a great smiler: I never think of him but I think of his smile.”
The South African force, 3 153 strong, entered the wood at 06h00 on 15 July 1916. Although several attempts were made to unseat the Germans, these failed, and the attacking troops had to endure considerable shelling and counterattacks. Private Charles Dunn (1st Battalion, A Company) recalled that “the following day we happened to walk through the same part of the wood as the night before … Dead men were lying all about. At some parts one was obliged to step over the dead bodies of Germans, Britishers, South Africans and Highlanders. And some awful sights they were. Some men with half bodies, heads of some were in a really awful state.”
Private Frank Marillier (2nd Battalion, C Company) described the fighting:
Absolute hell turned inside out. I never expected to get out whole. Shells dropping everywhere. We get orders to return in the afternoon late. I think, in fact I am almost sure, that our lives were saved when a very brave officer, Captain Hoptroff, made his way to our position. He wasted no time. ‘Get out!’ he said, and was almost immediately hit by a bullet and killed outright. It is strange how, in the most urgent and tragic circumstances, one notices things of minor importance. For as Captain Hoptroff dropped, my eye caught sight of his very beautiful gold wristlet watch; and I have never ceased to regret that I did not take it off, and send it to his family. I am sure that they would have appreciated it. Hoptroff lives on in my memory – a fine officer and a most gallant man.
Marillier remembered the fear instilled by knowledge of the German snipers:
Return to the trenches and managed to hold on to first line, but oh! what a death-trap. We made our way back, joining Colonel Thackeray and about 70 survivors in a reserve trench. Here we set up our Lewis gun with tragic results. In succession ten of my mates were killed and it looked as if my own turn was next. Whilst at the gun, one bullet grazed the side of my face, near the eye. Another hit the stock. But the bullets were not coming from the direction our gun was facing.
After our tenth comrade had been killed, one of our chaps thought he saw a slight movement in a tree, some distance to our rear. We gave the tree a burst, and out dropped a German sniper. A brave man, he must have crept into the wood in the darkness of the previous night, and set himself up, well hidden, in the branches. I am sure he would have known that his chances of survival were very slight. He had a telescope on his rifle, which I retrieved and presented recently to the Queenstown Museum. I was indeed lucky not to be his next victim.
On 18 July, the German 76 Brigade launched a major counterattack resulting in the recapture of much of the town of Longueval, with the South Africans only holding onto a small corner of the wood on its southeastern edge. By this time Colonel Tanner, who had been wounded, had handed over command to Lieutenant Colonel Edward Thackeray, who recalled that “things got worse as the day advanced and we were driven back and I actually found myself holding only the southwest corner of the wood. The trenches were full of wounded. All the stretcher-bearers were casualties so the poor fellows just had to lie there.”
That fourth day of the battle began with one of the most violent artillery bombardments known up to this time. Private Dudley Meredith (3rd Battalion, C Company) recalled that:
… hour after hour the wood was a-fire from end to end with bursting shells. Mingled with the shriek and roar were the crashes of falling trees and the rending of branches. Every now and again a heavy shell would land in the wood and not explode, with the result that the whole wood shook as if in an earthquake. All the while, cowering and dazed, we crouched in our little trenches while mud, leaves twigs and shell splinters rained down on us … Gradually I felt my nerves going and began to pray for one to hit me and end it all …
A German appeared from behind a bush and instantaneously, it seemed, we fired at one another. His bullet hit our parapet about four inches from my left eye and shot some gravel into my face. When I cleared my eyes I saw him reeling and suddenly fall.
In a letter smuggled out of prisoner-of-war camp, Captain Richard Medlicott (3rd Battalion, C Company) recounted the dramatic events that led to the capture of the survivors of his company:
Dawn 19th. Exhausted machine-gun ammunition. Drove off attack from wood but had to chuck it soon after 08h00. Many of our buried were exhumed by our heavy artillery, which hindered us at the wrong moment – at my trench east of wood. Damn those artillery garrisons.
Handed back, sorry to say, all German prisoners captured during the day. I got not a wink of sleep for four nights. Could not sleep in the night of the 18th. Got Lieutenants Guard and Thomas in a safe place (both wounded) with German prisoners – Irony. I was satisfied at our marksmanship, so many dead Germans round us in the wood. Notes: Germans useless as rifle shots, bar trained snipers, at over 300 yards. Their bombers trained to throw. They do not fancy coming on with bayonet, even knowing we had run out of ammunition. I could judge by their eyes. I was too busy waiting for the moment of attack which was maturing during the day.
The enemy shell fire was too intense to think of retiring. The Germans were rattled with our gun fire. Our men, who at that time owing to want of water and sleep were cold and stiff, were calm and had a ‘don’t care a damn’ appearance. Many Germans wanted to surrender but were afraid owing to a watch kept on them by comrades and machine-guns turned on them …
On 19 July, Thackeray was desperate for relief for his troops and appealed to British headquarters:
Our heavy artillery shelled our Buchanan trench some two hours and ground on either side east and west – injured several our men and buried several. This in addition to enemy’s fire which already killed two officers and many men … five days continuous work and fighting is becoming beyond endurance and as I have now only Lt Phillips and one or two NCOs. I do not feel that we can hope to hold the trench in the face of any determined attack …
The enemy attacked last night and this morning snipers and artillery casualties are continuing. I cannot evacuate my critically wounded or bury my dead on account of snipers. Four men have been hit helping one casualty. If the wounded cannot be moved, could not some medical assistance be sent up. My Medical Officer is far too busy at station and is completely exhausted. Will you manage his relief together with ours as soon as possible. So far the brigade have held on but I feel the strain is becoming too much so trust some special effort may be made …
On 20 July, the 9th Division, of which the South Africans formed part, was relieved by soldiers of the 3rd Division following another desperate note from Thackeray to Brigadier General Henry Timson Lukin, the commanding officer of the South African Brigade. Private Harry Cooper (3rd Battalion, C Company) had been detailed to take the written order to brigade headquarters. By now Delville Wood was looking like a ploughed-up field: “Off I went like a rabbit,” recalled Cooper, “through the village … dead everywhere looking at you with sightless eyes and the smell made me feel bad. I found my way. I faced the general, gave him the compliments of Colonel Thackeray and gave him the note. He looked at me with tears in his eyes and asked me to tell him something about his men in the wood. All the time he was exclaiming: ‘My men, my poor men’.”
The note he had taken to General Lukin read: “Urgent. My men are on their last legs. I cannot keep some of them awake. They drop with their rifles in their hands and sleep in spite of heavy shelling. We are expecting an attack. Even that cannot keep some of them from dropping down. Food and water has not reached us for two days. Please relieve these men today without fail, as I fear they have come to the end of their endurance.”
When the South African units were relieved, at 16h15 on 20 July, only 143 men walked out of Delville Wood unscathed. The South Africans had hung on in the face of the German attacks, but at a tremendous cost. Major Frank Heal (1st Battalion HQ) wrote in a letter home that “it has been an awful time, but by heaven we’re proud of them all. South Africa will never know what