Attack: An Infantry Subaltern's Impression of July 1st, 1916

In Short

This memoir documents the preparation and execution of an attack on the German-held village of Gommecourt on July 1, 1916. As a subaltern in the London Regiment, the author details the grueling logistical buildup, the palpable tension of waiting in the trenches, and the harrowing reality of "going over the top." It remains a vital historical document not for grand military strategy, but for its unvarnished, granular perspective on the physical and psychological toll of modern industrial warfare on the individual soldier.

The Story

The narrative begins in the days preceding the July 1 offensive. The author describes the landscape behind the front lines, where roads are clogged with supplies and the mundane business of military life—repairing trenches, laying communication lines, and enduring sporadic artillery fire—continues under the constant, lethal threat of German shelling. There is a sharp contrast between the "fool’s paradise" of the rear, where men believe themselves relatively safe, and the visceral shock when a well-liked corporal is killed by a stray shell.

As the date of the attack approaches, the author and his platoon move toward the front, marching through the night toward the village of Hébuterne. The environment is surreal: the aroma of a nearby orchard persists despite the decay of war, while the horizon is illuminated by the flashes of artillery and the eerie, artificial light of star-shells. The author describes the profound, quiet dread that settles over his men as they contemplate their mortality, even as they maintain a facade of professional resolve.

On the morning of the attack, the artillery bombardment intensifies into a roar so deafening that speech becomes impossible. The author commands his platoon through the cramped, muddy confines of the front-line trenches, waiting for the signal to advance. When the time comes, the men climb out of the battered trenches into No Man’s Land. The assault is immediate and catastrophic. The author describes the scene with the detachment of a witness: the air is filled with the hissing of machine-gun fire, and his men fall around him as the wave of the advance is cut down.

The author himself is struck in the hip by a machine-gun bullet. He describes the agonizing, slow crawl back toward his own lines, during which he is aided by a wounded sergeant, dodging fire from both the enemy and, accidentally, his own side. The descent into the hospital system follows—a journey through dressing stations and ambulances that takes him from the mud of the trenches to the relative safety of a hospital train. Along the way, he encounters other wounded men, including those suffering from shell shock, and reflects on the stark contrast between their physical trauma and the continued normalcy of the world just a few miles away. The account ends with the author’s evacuation, leaving behind the "hell" of the front for the precarious promise of recovery.

How It Unfolds

The gathering storm The narrative establishes the immense industrial scale of the preparation, detailing the movement of shells, the construction of railways, and the routine dangers of life behind the lines. The author highlights the sudden, arbitrary nature of death when a quiet moment in a billet is shattered by enemy artillery.

The march to the front The platoon moves toward the assembly point under the cover of night, passing through ruined villages and past active battery positions. The author captures the atmospheric tension of the night, where the beauty of a blooming orchard clashes with the mechanical destruction of the landscape.

The final hours of waiting The soldiers settle into the cramped, shell-damaged trenches near the enemy lines, waiting for the signal for the morning assault. The author inspects his men and attempts to prepare them for the move, all while noting the haunting proximity of the German positions.

The assault begins The atmosphere reaches a fever pitch as the artillery barrage peaks and the men scramble over the parapet. The author recounts the seconds of the advance, the immediate loss of his comrades, and the moment he is incapacitated by gunfire.

The crawl to safety The author describes the grueling, painful process of retreating through No Man’s Land while under fire. His survival depends on the cooperation of other wounded soldiers and the assistance of medical staff once he reaches the safety of the reserve trenches.

The evacuation The final movement follows the author through various stages of medical care, from the field dressing station to the train. The narrative concludes with a final glimpse of the war from the window of the hospital train as he leaves the front behind.

The People

The author, an infantry subaltern, serves as the primary observer. He is defined by his sense of duty to his men and his attempt to maintain a rational, professional perspective despite the mounting horrors around him. His vulnerability is palpable; he admits to his fear and his physical weakness, yet he remains focused on the survival of his platoon.

Sergeant S----l stands out as a symbol of the "get at 'em" spirit, constantly seeking to engage the enemy with a bravery that borders on recklessness. He represents the unyielding, often aggressive, resolve of the infantryman. Corporal G----, whose death early in the book provides an emotional anchor for the author, represents the personal loss of the officer who has grown to care for his men over many months of service.

The author’s servant and his fellow officers, such as Captain W----t and R----, appear as fellow travelers in suffering. They are defined not by grand gestures, but by their shared exhaustion, their mutual support in the face of injury, and their common longing for "Blighty." The wounded Prussian officer encountered at the end serves as a brief, silent reminder of the shared humanity of those on both sides of the conflict.

In Its Own Voice

"I do not think that I am far wrong when I say that those thoughts were occurring to every man in the silent platoon behind me."

The author reflects on the universal, unspoken fear that grips the men as they march toward the imminent danger of the attack.

"Everything stood still for a second, as a panorama painted with three colours--the white of the smoke, the red of the shrapnel and blood, the green of the grass."

During the assault, the author captures the surreal, detached clarity that overcomes him amidst the chaos of the battlefield.

"I remember my thought was, 'Will my name appear in the casualty list under the head of "Killed" or "Wounded"?' and I summoned up a mental picture of the two alternatives in black type."

As he crawls to safety, the author describes the psychological transition from the struggle for survival to the cold, administrative reality of his fate.

What It's Really About

At its core, this is a study of the fragility of the human spirit when confronted with industrial-scale destruction. The author examines the contrast between the intended order of military planning—the schedules, the barrages, the lines of advance—and the actual, chaotic reality of the battlefield. There is a deep, underlying question about the value of the individual life in a conflict that measures success in yards of mud and "remains of a battalion." The book argues that the true reality of the war is found not in the victory, but in the experiences of the men who endure the "ghastly chaos" and emerge forever altered. It is an exploration of the thin line between duty and sacrifice, and the way in which fear is masked by professional necessity.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate firsthand historical accounts that prioritize sensory detail over political analysis will find this book essential. It provides a chillingly clear window into the First World War, free from the romanticism that often colored later depictions. The prose is clean, direct, and remarkably precise, capturing the transition from the "pleasant aroma" of the orchard to the metallic, sterile environment of the hospital train.

Contemporary readers might find the author’s period-typical attitudes toward the enemy and the hierarchy of the military to be a product of their time, but these elements only add to the authenticity of the narrative. It is not an easy read; the descriptions of wounds and the psychological distress of shell-shocked soldiers are unflinching and, at times, difficult to process. However, the author’s humanity—his refusal to look at the body of his fallen corporal out of respect, and his acknowledgement of the "cheery" support of his men—leaves a lasting impact. You read it not for the strategic outcome of the Somme, but to understand the intimate, agonizing reality of the men who were asked to walk into the fire. It is a quiet, powerful reminder of the cost of duty and the resilience of the human mind under extreme pressure.