Chapter 523: An Easy Battle
For seven relentless days, the artillery bombardment at the Somme continued. A staggering 1,738,000 shells had rained down on the German positions, nearly 250,000 per day. It was one of the most ferocious artillery barrages in history, dwarfing even the German bombardment at Verdun.
The British and French commanders had meticulously prepared for this assault. Vast quantities of ammunition and supplies were stockpiled in underground bunkers near the front. They had also strengthened and expanded road and railway networks to ensure an uninterrupted flow of supplies and reinforcements.
Additionally, numerous trenches and shallow communication channels were dug to protect telephone lines. The most critical preparation involved creating specialized trenches for mass cavalry charges—long, shallow ramps designed specifically so horses could quickly surge forward and breach enemy lines as soon as the infantry opened gaps.
Yet, despite their extensive preparations, the Allied commanders failed to accurately assess the German defenses. While they planned obsessively for their offensive, they completely ignored enemy intelligence.
Meanwhile, the Germans had noticed the Allies' preparations long before. The extensive road and railway construction around the Somme clearly indicated the enemy's strategic intentions. In response, German troops quietly fortified their positions, taking advantage of the area's geology.
They dug a complex network of underground tunnels and bunkers deep beneath the chalky soil, some as far as twelve meters below the surface. These tunnels included kitchens, medical stations, ammunition storage, and even diesel-powered electrical lighting.
Crucially, the Germans constructed both frontline and hidden secondary defensive positions. When enemy artillery began pounding the frontline trenches, German soldiers simply retreated through tunnels to safer, concealed positions farther back, leaving only a small number of observers behind.
When the Allied infantry finally began their attack, German troops could swiftly move forward again, fully manning their frontline trenches in time to repel the assault. Thus, the Allies unknowingly spent a week bombarding largely empty trenches, wasting nearly two million shells on earthworks and abandoned dugouts.
On the chilly morning of December 1st, the artillery barrage abruptly ceased. The battlefield fell eerily silent, and the dense smoke slowly dispersed under the rising sun. Allied soldiers peered anxiously toward the enemy lines, hoping to see nothing but destruction.
In the shallow cavalry trenches, Colonel Albert, commanding the British 12th Cavalry Regiment, addressed his restless troops. He could barely hear his own words, his ears still ringing from the endless explosions.
"They must all be deaf by now," he joked to his nervous subordinates, attempting to lighten the tense atmosphere. "When we get there, I'll have to shout at them to surrender twice!"
His soldiers laughed uneasily. Colonel Albert continued confidently, "Relax, boys! Look out there—nothing could've survived that barrage. It'll be an easy battle. Today, we'll all earn medals without breaking a sweat!"
The soldiers took comfort in his words. Indeed, it seemed impossible for anyone to have survived the relentless pounding. The ground ahead was torn apart, cratered and churned like the surface of the moon. No enemy could possibly remain standing.
Moments later, whistles blew sharply, signaling the infantry attack. Thousands of British soldiers scrambled from their trenches, yelling wildly as they raced across no-man's-land toward the shattered German positions.
Colonel Albert held his cavalry back, reminding them: "Hold steady! Wait until the infantry secures the breach!"
Yet, barely a minute later, a sudden burst of gunfire erupted—machine guns, dozens of them. Soldiers and horses jumped in shock. This was not part of the plan. They had been promised silence, an easy advance, not intense machine-gun fire.
Colonel Albert quickly reassured his troops, shouting over the noise, "Those are our own machine guns, boys! Hold steady!"
His soldiers exchanged worried glances, unsure whether to trust their commander. The gunfire clearly came from the enemy lines, and bullets hissed overhead. The infantry's screams of agony soon became unmistakable, filling the cavalrymen with dread.
Panic began spreading through the ranks. Several cavalrymen craned their necks nervously, trying to get a glimpse of what was happening beyond the trench's edge.
Before Colonel Albert could regain control, a desperate bugle sounded—the signal for an immediate cavalry charge.
His heart sank. This premature signal could only mean one thing: The infantry had utterly failed, unable to breach German defenses, and now the cavalry was expected to charge straight into enemy fire, hoping speed and mobility might achieve what infantry could not.
Gritting his teeth, Colonel Albert drew his sword and shouted orders above the chaos: "Charge! Cross enemy lines at full speed! Do not stop for anything!"
Dozens of mounted cavalry surged forward, climbing out of their shallow trenches, swords drawn, galloping toward German positions. But the moment they emerged into no-man's-land, the German machine guns opened fire mercilessly.
Bullets tore through the cavalry ranks, horses collapsing violently in sprays of blood and mud. Soldiers toppled from saddles, bodies shredded instantly. The cavalry charge lasted mere seconds before disintegrating into chaos, its survivors scrambling desperately back toward their trenches, abandoning wounded and dying comrades to German fire.
What was meant to be an easy battle had, in mere minutes, turned into a slaughter.
(End of Chapter 523)
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