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Page 54
And of patience they and the nations behind them will still have ample
need. Since surprise on the Somme front was no longer possible, the great
advance has gone surely indeed, but more slowly. On _July 14_, after delay
caused by extraordinarily heavy rains, _the German second line was
breached_, and their trenches carried, on a front of four miles and held
against counter attacks. Longueval, the wood of Bazentin-le-Grand, and the
village, Bazentin-le-Petit, were attacked and captured with an _�lan_ that
nothing could resist. "The enemy losses in guns," said the British
Headquarters, "are now over 100. We have not lost one." On _July 17_,
Ovillers was cleared, Waterlot Farm taken, and 1,500 more yards of the
German line. The British had by now taken 11,000 prisoners, to a somewhat
larger number taken by the French, 17 heavy guns, 37 field-guns, 30 trench
howitzers, and 66 machine-guns. On Saturday night, _July 22-23_, the
greater part of Pozi�res, on the high ground toward Bapaume, was taken.
"Shortly after midnight," wrote the official correspondent at
Headquarters with the Australian Imperial Forces in France, "on the 23rd,
by a splendid night attack, the Australians took the greater portion of
Pozi�res." The previous bombardment had been magnificent. "I had never
before seen such a spectacle. A large sector of the horizon was lit up not
by single flashes, but by a continuous band of quivering light." And under
the protection of the guns, the Anzacs swept forward, passing over
trenches, so entirely obliterated by shell-fire that they were often not
recognised as trenches at all, till they were in the heart of the village.
Then for two days they fought from house to house, and trench to trench;
till on July 27th came the news--"The whole of the village of Pozi�res is
now in our hands." And the _Times_ correspondent writes "our establishment
at Pozi�res will probably be regarded historically as closing the second
phase of the battle of the Somme."
Since then (I write on August 16) three weeks have passed. The German
Third Line has been entered at the Bois de Foureaux, the whole of Delville
Wood has been carried; and in the combined advance of July 30th, the
French swept on to Maurepas on the north of the Somme, and are closely
threatening both Combles and P�ronne, while we are attacking Thiepval on
the left of our line and Guillemont on the right, and pushing forward,
north of Pozi�res, toward Bapaume. The whole of the great advance has been
_a thrust up-hill_ from the valley floors of the Ancre and the Somme
toward a low ridge running roughly east and west and commanding an
important stretch of country and vital communications beyond. "It has in
just four weeks of effort," writes Mr. Belloc--"accounted for some thirty
thousand unwounded or slightly wounded prisoners; for much more than 100
guns; for a belt of territory over five miles in its extreme breadth,
and--what is much more important than any of these numerical and local
calculations--it has proved itself capable of _continuous effort against
all the concentration which the enemy has been able to bring against it._"
But it has done yet more than this. It has welded the French and English
Alliance--the wills and minds of the two nations--more closely than ever
before; and it has tested the British war-machine--the new Armies and the
new arms--as they have never yet been tested in this war. The result has
set the heart of England aflame; even while we ponder those long, long
casualty lists which represent the bitter price that British fathers and
mothers, British wives and daughters have paid, and must still pay, for
the only victory which will set up once again the reign of law and
humanity in Europe. What the future has in store we cannot see yet in
detail; but the inevitable end is clear at last. The man-power of Germany
is failing, and with it the insolent confidence of her military caste; the
man-power of the Allies, and the gun-power of the Allies, are rising
steadily. Russia is well launched on her return way to Warsaw, to Cracow,
to East Prussia. Italy, after the fall of Gorizia, is on the march for
Trieste. The Turks are fleeing across the desert of Sinai; and the Allies
at Salonika are taking the first steps toward Sofia.
But it is in the "holy spirit of man" itself that the secret of the future
lies. On the Somme battle-fields, thousands and thousands of young lives
have been again laid down, that England--that France--may live. Here is a
letter, written the day before his death in action, on July 1st, the
opening day of the offensive, by a young English Officer.[C] One must read
it, if one can, dry-eyed. Not tears, but a steeled will, a purer heart,
are what it asks of those for whom the writer died:--
"I am writing this letter to you just before going into
action to-morrow morning about dawn.
"I am about to take part in the biggest battle that has yet
been fought in France, and one which ought to help to end
the war very quickly.
"I never felt more confident or cheerful in my life before,
and would not miss the attack for anything on earth. The men
are in splendid form, and every officer and man is more
happy and cheerful than I have ever seen them.
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