The History of the 51st (Highland) Division 1914-1918. F. W. Bewsher
would be necessary to check the enemy’s mining if it was to continue possible to hold the existing front-line trenches. The 179th Tunnelling Company had only a strength of 300 men with which to take over from the 500 men which the French had employed in the sector. It was therefore decided to reinforce the tunnellers by attaching to them infantry who in civil life had been skilled miners.
Sixty miners from each infantry brigade were accordingly added to the tunnellers. The efforts of the tunnelling company thus reinforced, by dint of working continuous shifts day and night, proved equal to the task, with the result that superiority as regards the mining situation ultimately passed to the British.
It was, however, only after a severe struggle that this result was obtained. The discharging of mines and of camouflets—small discharges used for blowing in the opponent’s galleries—were almost of daily occurrence.
Mine warfare played so large a part in the trench warfare of 1915, 1916, and 1917, and so affected the daily life of the soldier in the trenches, that a description of what it means to those engaged in it may not be out of place.
In the first instance, success in mine warfare is dependent on the tunnelling company. By their efforts it is determined whether our troops are to be blown up by the enemy, or whether it is the enemy who is to meet this fate. To secure protection for the troops listening galleries have to be driven at various points along the front, so that the enemy’s galleries can be located by sound, and the element of surprise can then be eliminated. The tunnellers who listen in these galleries are equipped with instruments by which the enemy can be heard working. If he is close, he can be heard by the ear alone. In chalk, a good medium for the carrying of sound, he can be heard working, without the aid of instruments, many feet away. If he is heard still using picks or shovels, it is known that he has not driven his gallery as far as he intends, and that there is therefore no immediate prospect of his blowing. If, on the other hand, he is heard tamping—i.e., packing in his explosive—it is known that his work is nearly completed, and that his mine will in a few hours be ready for exploding. In the latter case two alternatives are available, either of which may be adopted to protect the troops from the effect of his blowing. First, if we have a gallery sufficiently close to his, we may blow a small mine or camouflet, designed either to destroy his gallery or so to disintegrate the soil by the explosion as to make further tunnelling impossible. If a camouflet is impracticable, the only other alternative is to evacuate the area which it is estimated will be affected by the explosion.
In some cases the tunnelling company were able to destroy his galleries by camouflets when they were actually being worked, and thus bury the tunnellers and their spoiling parties. On these occasions the tunnelling company were always highly elated, as they took a professional pride in scoring off their real opponents the tunnellers, and considered this a far finer achievement than blowing up a trench full of mere infantrymen.
The Germans also adopted the same tactics, and continuous warfare between the tunnellers of both sides raged underground. Though the tunnellers, when once in their galleries, were free from the attentions of snipers, trench-mortars, and shells, yet their own form of warfare was hazardous and dangerous enough. When the galleries of the opposing sides were close, it was never known whether a gallery had not been located and might not at any moment be blown in, all the men working in it being crushed or suffocated.
On occasions a British and German gallery would meet, and hand-to-hand fights with picks and crowbars underground would ensue, which had to be fought out in darkness in the narrow tunnels.
The danger from natural gases, with all the attendant difficulties of rescuing men overcome by the fumes, was constant. Falls of earth and chalk, possibly due to some heavy explosion above ground, might also occur, which might bury the worker or cut him off from the exit of the gallery.
It must be remembered that the tunnellers were not highly trained soldiers in their early manhood, but professional miners, often men of middle age, who had in many cases come to France straight from the pits at home. They were, indeed, a splendid breed of men, and the infantry owed much to them. There is little question but that they were far superior to the German tunneller. The latter was often a cunning worker, but the British tunneller could always be relied on to beat him for pace. It may also be added that the tunnelling companies all contained an appreciable number of Scottish miners.
Mine warfare affects the infantry in several ways. First, it necessitates their finding an enormous number of carrying parties to assist in getting rid of the spoil, as the excavated earth or chalk is called. The infantryman never liked this work, as, among other things, it made his clothing, particularly his kilt, extremely dirty. It also appeared unending. However, he was reasonably contented with it if he had the satisfaction of occasionally seeing the German trenches and dug-outs hoisted into the air.
The question of finding working parties is, however, a minor consideration for the infantry when compared with the possible effects of the explosion of a German mine. This usually occurred either as darkness fell or during the night. Though warning might have been given by the tunnellers that a mine was to be expected, yet the explosion always appeared to come as a surprise. To a man standing up in the vicinity of an explosion the first sensation was a feeling that he had been struck on the soles of the feet by a heavy beam. This was immediately followed by the opening up of the earth and the issuing forth of a belch of flame, capped with a great rolling cloud of smoke and followed instantaneously by a deep muffled roar.
Huge fragments of earth and chalk, some weighing a ton or more, with wire entanglements, trench-boards, dug-out timbers—all were hurled many feet into the air. There followed a sensible pause, and then for some seconds the falling débris would come pouring down. This in turn was followed by a mist of dust which continued to float in the air for many minutes.
If the explosion had occurred under an occupied portion of the trench, the men in the area which was transferred into the crater were either immediately buried or else hurled many feet into the air in the sheet of flame and smoke, often to descend back into the crater crushed, bruised, burnt, and almost invariably dead. Others in the immediate vicinity of the explosion were crushed in their shelters or buried in the trenches by the collapse of their sides. Men further away, in their turn, were in danger of being killed or mutilated by the falling débris of stones and chalk which whirled down from a great height into the trenches. The result was a scene of horrible desolation. Nothing remained intact. Trenches with their garrisons were obliterated. The positions where posts had once been could only be determined by rifles or limbs projecting through the upturned earth. At times, the heaving of the earth showed where some buried man, still alive, was struggling to extricate himself. The whole air was fetid with the sickly stench of high explosive.
Mine warfare was, indeed, the most trying ordeal to which troops holding trenches were exposed.
Next to mining, the most nerve-racking form of trench warfare was provided by the trench-mortar. Towards the latter end of August the enemy began to make a considerable use of these weapons. In consequence the trenches were frequently severely damaged, and many casualties were sustained. The British trench-mortars were in these days only in their early experimental stages; moreover, difficulty always existed in obtaining sufficient ammunition for them to be of any real service.
The enemy, on the other hand, appears to have had an unlimited supply of ammunition for mortars of a considerably heavier calibre and longer range than ours. At this time his commonest types were those that discharged the “oil can” or “rum jar” and the aerial torpedo. The “oil can” was little more than a tin canister about nine inches in diameter, filled with high explosive, and fitted with a time fuze. In those days it was fired from a smooth-bored wooden mortar, and in consequence turned over and over in its flight, and was therefore not particularly accurate. The explosion was, however, terrific, devastating to wire or trenches, and most trying to the nerves of any one who had to live in an area in which they habitually burst.
The aerial torpedoes had a fixed propeller which kept them from turning over in the air, and were in consequence a more accurate projectile. Their effects were if anything worse than those of the “oil can.”
The Division had attached to it one 1½-inch mortar battery and a 4-inch mortar