Source: File: Germans attack British
Tank. See an original
image at: <https://twitter.com/skipperswar>
[Accessed 29 September 2016]
[Accessed 29 September 2016]
As eye and 'earwitness'
among Somme days,
To number almost
three months, Philip Gibbs
Noted on Wednesday
27 September, how
The high ridge of
Thiepval had transformed -
Counting 34 blackened
tree stumps, the ground
Ploughed by high
explosive storms.
Finally, a prize of
wasteland across a panorama
Of shell
shattered No Mans Land - soldier waves
Leaping in and
out of trenches - small figures
To reappear with
silhouettes of prisoners led
Back in batches;
then back again to undertake
A little more
progress.
Closer and closer
to the rows of fruit trees -
Or rather what
had been apple trees, no longer
To bear April
blossoms on the edge of Thiepval,
On what had once
been the French commune.
All this had
taken count from shell storms that
Held no respect
for life.
Storms of shells
made by hands of womankind,
Transported by
sea and land and used in grand
Orchestras of
guns - the taking of Mouquet
Farm by mixed
Australian and Canadian blood,
That quickly
dried among its ruin - brickwork
Dust marked out old ruins linked by trenches.
Renewed sniping acts thereabouts, caused pull
Back from Mouquet, to see refreshed gunnery
Targeting the
space, as in recent old days -
Seeking nests of Germans,
protecting parties
As they set out
to dig down sometimes to find
Deep holes -
without searching are filled again.
Amid the broken
trunks and red brick rubble
Of Thiepval
chateau, came close by a solitary
Shape - a monster
to any virgin eye that set
Upon it - a sloth
on the warpath, spitting out
Shots of lead, joining in the artillery in violent
Shelling across
Thiepval.
Whatever life might
be there lay underground,
As darkest black
smoke marked each hit - any
Wise German hid in the villages vaulted cellars.
From their
burrows the German soldiers had
Created exit
points, so they could pop up any
Where like
rabbits to take pot shots.
In the chance of
meeting survivors who
Had held the
village for two years, French
Speaking Germans told
openly how they
Dug warrens of
safety, with furniture made
Of planks raised
above ground; handsome
And high bearing
in interview.
Quizzed in their
aspect of wars outcome,
They laughed at English victory idea - fed
By daily newspapers their reactions to raid
Of zeppelins gave exclamation of 'kaput.'
Being gentleman of
war each side readily
Praised the
other.
Responses to
appearances of the tanks
By Tommy, very apparent in their grins
'Where are the
old tanks?' despite being
On the cutting
edge of warfare - slowly
A lone tank can
appear oddly, like a boat
To lurch in and out
of trenches.
Nosing into soft
earth driven by grunt
Of an engine, to rest a moment on old
Parapets as if
winded - waddles onward
Then sits and look
at the chateau ruins -
Described as some
living beast that duly
Considers eating chateau remains.
In observation of
the metal machine each
Tommy keeps his head below bullets
Tommy keeps his head below bullets
And ridges - impatiently willing the tank to
Move onwards and get
on with it - which
It did; seen as a fire-breathing
dragon,
With belching
dyspepsia.
Reporter’s eyes saw
how German bullets
Harmlessly 'splash'
off casings - in a further
Lurch its belly
squashes sandbags flat -
As if to use them
as a resting cushion -
Then it gave
another burp of fire, before
Baffled Germans.
Yelling and
cheery Tommy’s come from
Behind the tank
to take 'hände hoch'
German gunners
into their care, who
Stood in awe of
the over powering beast
That defeated
them - the Tommy’s agree
Over usage in
taking chateau.
An impossible task without tanks. A tank
Did not give a
fuck for the machine guns -
Though the short
horned mud hopper's
Body had become
winded, having to pause
Before it could
crawl safely homewards,
Back to its den.
Mirrored occurrences
happened at Ovillers,
With close
encounters of underground foe -
Where life sized German
rabbits popped
Out of their
burrows, with rat like intentions.
One English lad
told how he dipped down
Into a deep
dugout.
He ran back in
retreat, at the appearance
Of dark German
shapes - though some
Seemed to want to
surrender - it was hard
To tell if the Huns
real tricky intent would
Be to kill him - his
own fellows throwing
Bombs, possibly ending
him either way.
The bomb parties
aimed their explosions
At dug out
entrances - sending in plumes
Of smoke, to
force the Hun out the other
Way - something
like rat hunting the vermin
Were life-sized,
dangerous and desperate.
A melee of
prisoner taking, as more brave
Tommy’s swooped
into tunnels to sweep
Prisoners out in
their hundreds, to emerge
Amid hundreds of
waiting allied soldiers -
40 wounded and
998 unwounded were
Taken prisoner.
Danger was
by no means over - in taking
The mass of
prisoners back to allied lines,
A German barrage
picked off some of
Their own - while
noon approached the
Opposition sought
retaliation - flames
And black smoke
renewed.
By witness the
allies signaled friendly
Guns to assist
their plight - flame against
Flame blew each
other into silence for
Moments, allowing
movement of men to go
Out and poke
about to dig further holes,
Or scrounge about
for keepsakes.
Like a landscape
of Victorian chimneys,
Plumes popped up
- among them a black
Gush appeared on
the site of Chateau's
Carcass of
reddened rubble - all equal
Events about
seemed to stifle enemy
Ability to summon
counter attacks.
Resorting to
shells over Morval and
Compels, while No Mans Land became
An expansion and all
about tanks rolled
Out in sorties - as
some hours before
At Gueudecourt; there troops were
Stuck before a
bullet wall.
So up came a tank
across the sticky
Trench to hand
this over to its followers
Where white flags
of surrender lifted -
Buoyed by
success, the tank pressed
Further on to
find more success to find
Itself set upon.
Despite the guns
firing about, a horde
Of men leapt upon
the beast, believing they
Might smash its
metal casing using bombs,
Rifle butts and
bayonet and bullet fire -
In crazy notions trying to find it’s weakest
Side riding on
its back.
But allied
infantry came to the defence
Of the tank -
driving the remaining enemy
Away that did not
lay dead about - still
Unperturbed the
tank recovered its engine
Growled and began
to waddle onwards
Without a thought.
by Jamie Mann.
Anon.,1916. Story
Of Thiepval - 'Tanks' Exploits - Attacked By Germans With Bomb And Bayonet. The Daily
Telegraph, [online] 26 September
1916. P.9. Col.1-2. Available
at: <http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/12213310/Daily-Telegraph-September-29-1916.html>
[Accessed: 29 September 2016].
Mann, J., 2016. 100 years Ago - Poems by Jamie Mann. [letter] (Personal
communication, 29 September 2016).
#WW1 #WW1centenary #GreatWar #WW1poem #GreatWar #WW1centenary
#worldwarone #worldwaroneremembered #WW1Somme
