The bloodiest day in the history of British arms

Ninety-five years ago today, the British Expeditionary Force (BEF) mounted its first major offensive during World War I. The so-called "First Day on the Somme" would become the bloodiest day in the history of British arms. According to the history books, the BEF suffered 57,470 casualties, 19,240 of them fatal (i.e. killed in action, or subsequently died of wounds). My grandfather was one of them, receiving wounds that plagued him until he died when I was only a few years old.

The Tyneside Irish Brigade advancing against German lines on 1st July 1916.
It suffered almost 70% casualties that day. (Image courtesy of Wikipedia)

I won't give a full account here of the horrors of that day. It's beyond my powers of description, even if I wanted to try! An excellent factual account is Martin Middlebrook's book "The First Day on the Somme", and a superb fictional retelling of the events of that day (praised by those who lived through it) is John Harris' 1961 novel "Covenant With Death" (long out of print, but available from used book stores). Both are part of my permanent library, and I recommend them unreservedly. The Wikipedia article on the day gives a good (albeit sanitized) overview. (Martin Middlebrook later wrote of how he began his book, and what he learned during the process. It's a very interesting article, and recommended reading.)

The day is famous for an episode regarded by the British as evidence of 'being a good sport', and by the Germans as evidence that the British were mad. The Independent reports:

Captain Wilfred "Billie" Nevill was both reckless and impossibly brave during the first day of the Battle of the Somme.

Throughout May 1916, while home on leave, Nevill and fellow young officers entered heated discussions about how their men might react when finally ordered to go over the top and run towards the German gunners.

The 21-year-old devised what he considered to be an ingenious plan to distract the men of the 8th Battalion, East Surrey Regiment from the rain of machine-gun fire they expected to face crossing No Man's Land. While in England, he obtained two heavy brown leather footballs, and took them with him back to France.

. . .

In the hours before the battle, he revealed his plan to his men, giving a football to two of the platoons in his company and ordering the soldiers to punt it towards the German trenches, so "that proper formation and distance was not lost thereby". He kept one for himself, reportedly writing on it: "The Great European Cup Final - East Surreys versus The Bavarians".

At 7.27am on 1 July 1916, three minutes before the British artillery's bombardment of the Germans lifted, he "shared a last joke" with fellow officers before beginning the charge himself, kicking his ball into No Man's Land and running from the trenches in eager pursuit. His goal was the village of Montauban.

Despite facing very heavy rifle and machine-gun fire, the advance began successfully. Approaching the German barbed wire, however, the advancing British soldiers hesitated.

Having got his men so far across No Man's Land, Nevill dashed forward with a grenade in his hand to kick the ball on - and was "immediately shot through the head", according to an eyewitness. The officer kicking the other ball, Bobby Soames, was also shot dead on the German wire.

The press back home leapt on the story as an example of classic British brio and strength of character. A fellow officer, 2nd Lt C W Alcock, in a letter to Else after her brother's death, praised his "personal charm and never-failing good humour" and "the interest he took in every individual under his command". The Germans saw it as evidence of British madness.

The Surreys captured a small tract of land later that day. The survivors searched for and found the footballs, which are on display in Britain. One of them [shown above] currently resides at the Imperial War Museum.

There's more at the link.

Of interest to US readers is that the American poet Alan Seeger, who had enlisted in the French Army, was killed in action on July 4th, 1916, as part of the fighting accompanying the Somme offensive. A short while before his death (of which he must surely have had some premonition) he wrote what would become his most famous poem.

I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple-blossoms fill the air —
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.

It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land
And close my eyes and quench my breath —
It may be I shall pass him still.
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill,
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow-flowers appear.

God knows 'twere better to be deep
Pillowed in silk and scented down,
Where love throbs out in blissful sleep,
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear . . .
But I've a rendezvous with Death
At midnight in some flaming town,
When Spring trips north again this year,
And I to my pledged word am true,
I shall not fail that rendezvous.

Alan Seeger did not fail his rendezvous. May he, and all the others who were killed or wounded in that terrible war, rest in peace.

Peter