Great Western Front – Ypres to Verdun

My prime aim in undertaking this charity challenge on behalf of ‘Help for Heroes’ (H4H) was to raise as much financial support for those military personnel, and their families, injured through carrying out their duties on our behalf. Many years before I had taken my father-in-law Ronald Collins to the Chateau of Ath, near Mons for him to witness again the location where the top brass of the British Military sat for dinner no doubt discussing how finally the War would end in Germany. He took great pleasure in showing the granddaughter of the Count of Atha a secret view position overlooking the banqueting hall she had not been aware of.

During the trip, I enquired about the place my grandfather fought at the first battle of Mons. I remember standing in front of a ploughed field on the edge of a small wood where a wooden post marker showed the position of the Gloucester Regiment. It had occurred to me I should go on one of those organised trips on the history of World War 1 but regarded it as a bit voyeuristic for my liking recalling killing on an industrial scale.

Events conspired to change my attitude when I was invited to undertake another charity cycle ride but this time to commemorate a century since 1916 of the Great Western Front. For the purposes of my sponsors, I wrote some reflections of the historic events in 1916 and the context. What I didn’t expect was a profound emotional experience I will never forget.

This is my account at the time.

How did we get into this fine mess Stanley?

Historical Point – World War I or the Great War, was a global war originating in Europe that began on 28 July 1914 and lasted until 11 November 1918. More than 70 million military personnel, including 60 million Europeans, were mobilised in one of the largest wars in history. Over 9 million combatants and 7 million civilians died as a result of the war (including the victims of a number of genocides), a casualty rate exacerbated by the belligerents’ technological and industrial sophistication, and the tactical stalemate caused by trench warfare, a gruelling form of warfare in which the defender held the advantage. It was one of the deadliest conflicts in history, and paved the way for major political changes, including revolutions in many of the nations involved.

The war drew in all the world’s economic great powers, assembled in two opposing alliances: the Allies (based on the Triple Entente of the United Kingdom/British Empire, France and the Russian Empire) versus the Central Powers of Germany and Austria-Hungary. Although Italy was a member of the Triple Alliance alongside Germany and Austria-Hungary, it did not join the Central Powers, as Austria-Hungary had taken the offensive, against the terms of the alliance. These alliances were reorganised and expanded as more nations entered the war: Italy, Japan and the United States joined the Allies, while the Ottoman Empire and Bulgaria joined the Central Powers.

The trigger for the war was the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria, heir to the throne of Austria-Hungary, by Yugoslav nationalist Gavrilo Princip in Sarajevo on 28 June 1914. This set off a diplomatic crisis when Austria-Hungary delivered an ultimatum to the Kingdom of Serbia, and entangled international alliances formed over the previous decades were invoked. Within weeks, the major powers were at war and the conflict soon spread around the world.

On 28 July, the Austro-Hungarians declared war on Serbia and subsequently invaded. As Russia mobilised in support of Serbia, Germany invaded neutral Belgium and Luxembourg before moving towards France, leading the United Kingdom to declare war on Germany. After the German march on Paris was halted, what became known as the Western Front settled into a battle of attrition, with a trench line that would change little until 1917. Meanwhile, on the Eastern Front, the Russian army was successful against the Austro/Hungarians but was stopped in its invasion of East Prussia by the Germans. In November 1914, the Ottoman Empire joined the Central Powers, opening fronts in the Caucasus, Mesopotamia and the Sinai. Italy joined the Allies in 1915, and Bulgaria joined the Central Powers in the same year, while Romania joined the Allies in 1916, followed by the United States in 1917. The Russian government collapsed in March 1917, and a subsequent revolution in November brought the Russians to terms with the Central Powers via the Treaty of Brest Litovsk, which constituted a massive German victory. After a stunning German offensive along the Western Front in the spring of 1918, the Allies rallied and drove back the Germans in a series of successful offensives. On 4 November 1918, the Austro-Hungarian empire agreed to an armistice, and Germany, which had its own trouble with revolutionaries, agreed to an armistice on 11 November 1918, ending the war in victory for the Allies.

By the end of the war, the German Empire, Russian Empire, Austro-Hungarian Empire and the Ottoman Empire ceased to exist. National borders were redrawn, with several independent nations restored or created, and Germany’s colonies were parcelled out among the winners. During the Paris Peace Conference of 1919, the Big Four (Britain, France, the United States and Italy) imposed their terms in a series of treaties.

The League of Nations was formed with the aim of preventing any repetition of such a conflict. This effort failed, and economic depression, renewed European nationalism, weakened member states, and the German feeling of humiliation contributed to the rise of Nazism. These conditions eventually contributed to World War II.

Returning to the challenge our fund-raising aim was in order to provide practical support for our military wounded (mental or physical) and their families, around 230 cyclists aged 17 to 70, set-out on what was to be both a physical and emotional challenge in support of H4H. Amongst us would be disabled servicemen and women, some minus a leg or an arm or indeed multiple combinations of the two requiring them to be locked onto their machines. At the time of writing these committed riders helped raise over £600,000 for our noble warriors and their families. From the 6th to 10th June our team, ‘The Three Musketeers’, cycled a total of 515kms, climbed 3,743mts and burnt off 6,850 calories. We started at the Menin Gate in Ypres finishing at the Verdun Ossuary Cemetery.

Starting in Belgium we passed through Arras, Amiens, St Quentin, and Reims, finally reaching our finishing point just outside Verdun. This represented the Western Front of 1916 which became the pivotal point for the final outcome of a bloody war conducted on a scale never seen before. In these personal recollections I have attempted to capture the history, the enormous courage, and the sacrifices of our Forces of the era, coupled with the great charitable works of H4H.

Hopefully in reading my account, you will begin to understand the profound affect the experience had on me and my fellow travellers.

Planning and Preparation is Everything

Planning and preparation gives you the platform to complete your mission as applied to most thinks in life but does not of itself guarantee success or preclude unexpected complications, difficulties, or tests of your will and character. I had a carbon bike with several improvements recommended by Alex Hinault, son of the great Tour de France Five Times Winner, Bernard Hinault. Not leaving anything to chance, my Vicar agreed to bless me and my bike the week before I set-off. All the teams trained hard through the winter months, and in my case it wasn’t until the beginning of May and at the age of 70 that I felt my fitness was at an acceptable level for five days of hard continuous riding.

The machines and men may have been in reasonable shape but that is not to say ‘Murphy’s Law’ would not at times occur, or the emotional experiences test our composure. Our Logistics Planning just before our intended start, the French Trade Unions decided to embark upon on a series of lightning strikes affecting transport by air and rail and causing fuel shortages at petrol stations. To complicate matters further, the North East of France suffered some of its worst flooding for decades. I living in France had to make my own arrangements to get a car to our finishing point in Verdun and myself, luggage and bike at the starting point in Ypres. I finally arrived at my first hotel in Ypres at 10.00pm.

The European Superstate Needs a Paint Job!

At Lille Station I located the platform for my train and read the illuminated message board. Sure, enough the board did show our final destination some 27 miles away, all written in Flemish, but a smarty pants colleague pointed out from his better knowledge of Afrikaans (Dutch derivative) that the sign actually said the train was not stopping at our station, or the four before it. Apparently, the line had given way, presumably because of the floods, and we would have to continue halfway through our journey from Cambray by bus. There may be, down the road in Brussels, swish parliamentary buildings but here the train looked like something out of the film ‘Murder on the Orient Express’. It was at least electric, but I think it must have been plugged into someone’s private house to work. It groaned out of the station and arrived an hour later in Cambray. At least the bus was waiting for us, but as I clambered on board it was then I noticed the faces and people I had seen before. Poverty and deprivation was edged in their faces and clothing. The same appearance I observed on the odd occasion I visited the council estate in Nottingham where I grew up! For the most part nice people and well behaved but seemingly resigned to life’s fate that awaits them.

For 15 minutes I waited to continue our journey. I thought the possible delay was to pick-up station staff requiring a lift home in absence of the train. No such rational reason, the bus driver had decided, or had been told, to leave at a certain time. This futility was to be repeated at the next four station stops, except at one stop the driver asked one of his colleagues the best way to Ypres. You would think we were on a continental tour. No complaints or remonstrations from passengers, just resignation.

We travelled through what appeared to be an endless council estate, not a trunk road. Terraced houses lined the streets interspersed with smart bungalows and block paved driveways. No one seems to have bothered to repaint their premises or anything else for that matter, only the new builds showed any shiny new paintwork. Obviously, the concept of planned maintenance or location seems to have passed the Belgium’s by. The bus never seemed to travel more than 20kms per hour on very rough cobbled, or concrete, roads. At one stage I thought the bus would not be able to get round one corner, missing a car’s wing mirrors by a couple of inches. Sitting on the back seat, I would become momentarily weightless as we navigated the many ‘sleeping policemen’ at just 15 km per hour. In my boredom, and employing my entrepreneurial spirit, I thought Belgium could offer an ‘Aldi version’ of Richard Branson’s Virgin Spaceflights at a fraction of the cost. For just €14 you could experience weightlessness, by simply asking the driver to hold the speed over the humps!

Finally, I arrived at Ypres Railway Station very tired and hungry. In my desperation, and with no obvious alternative at hand, I went to the station kiosk and ordered a tray of Belgium chips and chicken burgers before asking the waitress to order a taxi for our hotel. If that is the future of the European Superstate, we will have no problem competing should we do a Brexit.

Meeting ‘Johnny Concho (JC)’ and his Motorcycle Gang

The day was lifted by a chance meeting that evening at the hotel bar with John Townsend (JC) and his gang of motorcyclists over for a weekend break in Belgium. What a bunch of extraordinary characters they were! JC at the tender age of 68 was their leader, a farmer and rancher from Kent managing a herd of Arabian horses operating under a business called Remuda Ranch. Mark, a delivery driver for Asda, and his mates, were ‘shooting the breeze’ on their Hoggies and Yamahas. I was very intrigued by John’s bike’s paint work showing a tree that reminded me of the Joshua Tree National Park near Palm Springs, and a side-stand in the shape of a bald-headed eagle’s claw and talons, just brilliant!

Official Ceremony at the Menin Gate

The Sunday evening, the day before Monday’s departure, we gathered for the formal Ceremony at the Menin Gate. The Last Post was delivered by our Bugler, wreaths laid in remembrance, and then the playing of a Scottish lament by our Piper. Unfortunately, the reed in his bagpipe had become detached so there was silence for a while. Masterfully, he corrected the problem and was able to continue to the delight of us all. Reading the plaques, I noticed there was a complete wall dedicated to the Indian Regiment. It transpired later in our Guide Talks that they played a vital role in reinforcing the Allies at a critical stage in the War. Up to then a largely volunteer British army, acting as an expeditionary force, was trying to hold the German Army back, supported by the French. By 1916 we were continually being pushed back further into France so some 60,000 soldiers of the Indian Regiment came via Marseilles, in their summer tunics, to hold the line until we could reorganise ourselves. In 1916 the whole country was mobilised to recruit a conscript army, expand the role of women in the war effort, and commence an industrialisation of the whole machinery of war.

Historical Point – The Menin Gate Memorial commemorates 54,389 Commonwealth personnel who fell in the Ypres Salient before August 1917 and have no known grave. The ceremony was first performed by the local Volunteer Fire Brigade on 1st July 1928. Apart from the intervening period in the Second World War, it has been conducted every evening at 8 pm, ours being the 30,332nd. It is highly symbolic to the Belgium Nation, representing how Britain helped to reinstate their Country as an Independent Sovereign State.

We Are Off – Destination Arras

The first morning of our challenge we all assembled in the main square of Ypres with our bikes and then walked a short distance to the cathedral. It was then I was told that as veteran cyclist (the oldest), I was asked to read the 22nd Psalm, and that the youngest was to light the candle to be displayed in the Ladies Chapel for the entire week of our Ride. I also took a few quiet moments to reflect that a century before, my grandfather was here with the Gloucestershire Regiment, and I wondered if he was looking down on me as I gave the reading. It was also my granddaughter Daisy’s 10th birthday.

Historical Point – Within a few miles we encountered the largest mine crater on the Western Front, at Spanbroekmolen. It was one of 19 blown on 6th June 1917 to open the attack on Messines Ridge. The skills of Welsh coal miners and Manchester canal workers were employed to dig tunnels running for miles under the German defences, all carried out in absolute silence. The hole, now filled with water, is enormous and it is said the explosion could be heard in London. It remains the largest ever conventional explosion (i.e. excluding nuclear) using 470 tons of explosive. Later we would hear of the V.C. awarded to William Hackett, a Nottingham miner (my birthplace), who refused to leave his comrade in a tunnel. His Citation reads – ¨For most conspicuous bravery when entombed with four others in a gallery owing to the explosion of an enemy mine. After working for 20 hours, a hole was made through fallen earth and broken timber, and the outside party was met. Sapper Hackett helped three of the men through the hole and could easily have followed, but refused to leave the fourth, who had been seriously injured, saying,” I am a tunneller, I must look after the others first.” Meantime, the hole was getting smaller, yet he still refused to leave his injured comrade. Finally, the gallery collapsed, and though the rescue party worked desperately for four days the attempt to reach the two men failed. Sapper Hackett, well knowing the nature of sliding earth, the chances against him, deliberately gave his life for his comrade”. Soon we arrived at another point of history at Fromelles. Historical Point – Since the start of the war the Australians had already been involved over the two years in three actions. In 2016 the Australians, outnumbered 2:1, attacked the German front lines in order to deny them reinforcing their troops along the Somme. Ultimately the attack failed and over 5,000 Australians lost their lives in the attempt. It was regarded as the worst 24 hours in Australia’s entire history. Next stop was the La Bombe Indian Memorial where to my surprise I learnt the Portuguese were also involved in the conflict. Points of interest were appearing thick and fast. I was becoming conscious of a steady drip of challenging emotional encounters affecting composure, as the sheer magnitude of the events from a century ago were recounted. The next stop was a slight change in that it related to how sometimes, when there is no alternative, one might have to resort to bluffing to get out of a situation. Historical Point – Just before the lunch break, we arrived at the village near Givenchy les la Basse. The action that took place there is used by military lecturers to their students as an example of bluffing your enemy when there are few other options. In 1915 around 125 British soldiers were marching towards the village, to find a contingent of around 450 German troops crossing the village bridge, of which 100 had already begun to take up defensive positions in the church in the centre. With only a few minutes to assess the totality of the situation, the commanding officer ordered two platoons to take up positions in a flanking movement either side of the bridge and engage those crossing it. The question was: what to do next? The C.O. ordered a full frontal charge, making the enemy believe there were more of them and that the only escape route was back over the bridge from whence they came. A brilliant bluff! There were still more points of remembrance and commemoration before our first day was complete. The next site was Vimy Ridge, where the whole of the Canadian Corps fought together. Whilst we were commemorating the pain and suffering of the past, our Forces today still bear suffering on our behalf.

Help for Heroes is a charity whose sole purpose is to help our military, and to work with like-minded international organisations. I am aware of the main support the charity provides, but the next speakers provided a glimpse of the breadth of issues military personnel can face. A couple from the U.S.A. related their experience as mine sweepers in Afghanistan. They thought they were operating in a ‘cleared area’ when one of their colleagues stepped on an I.E.D. and was killed. The pair of them, standing either side, were blown off their feet and received serious shrapnel wounds, scarring their bodies and requiring extensive surgery. It was during their rehabilitation they became romantically connected. Unfortunately, the nature of their injuries prevented them from having children the natural way, requiring I.V.F. treatment to have a family. They drew a blank from their own government to support them for the expense of such treatment. Through the auspices of H4H pressure was applied, and they learnt just a week before the Ride that they would be granted support. This is just another example of how valuable H4H support is so valuable and compassionate. Let’s hope they are not on the Ride next year, due to a new arrival! To see them in their lycra, you would not believe the experience they had gone through. Riders had come from several countries outside the U.K. including the U.S.A., France and Australia to take part representing their veteran organisations linked to H4H.

Historical Point – The Battle of Vimy Ridge was a military engagement fought primarily as part of the Battle of Arras, in the Nord-Pas-de-Calais region of France, during the First World War. The main combatants were the Canadian Corps, of four divisions, against three divisions of the German Sixth Army. The battle, which took place from 9 to 12 April 1917, was part of the opening phase of the British-led Battle of Arras, a diversionary attack for the French Nivelle Offensive. The objective of the Canadian Corps was to take control of the German-held high ground along an escarpment at the northernmost end of the Arras Offensive. This would ensure that the southern flank could advance without suffering German enfilade fire. Supported by a creeping barrage, the Canadian Corps captured most of the ridge during the first day of the attack. The town Thelus fell during the second day of the attack, as did the crest of the ridge once the Canadian Corps overcame a salient against considerable German resistance. The final objective, a fortified knoll located outside the village of Givenchy-en-Gohelle, fell to the Canadian Corps on 12 April. The German forces then retreated to the Oppy–Méricourt line. Historians attribute the success of the Canadian Corps in capturing the ridge to a mixture of technical and tactical innovation, meticulous planning, powerful artillery support and extensive training, as well as the failure of the German Sixth Army to properly apply the new German defensive doctrine. The battle was the first occasion when all four divisions of the Canadian Expeditionary Force participated in a battle together and it was made a symbol of Canadian national achievement and sacrifice. A 100-hectare (250- acre) portion of the former battleground serves as a memorial park and site of the Canadian National Vimy Memorial.

Finally having covered 90kms on our first day, we could at last relax for an evening meal. The only possible serious issue which arose was the behaviour of some riders when cycling in France. Having now lived in the Country for some six years, I have come to appreciate that the vast majority of French motorists treat cyclists with a great deal of respect and will be patient and hold back when necessary to overtake and will always give them a wide berth. They do expect, however, that cyclists reciprocate by observing the cycle pathways, riding in a single file when traffic appears and not to try and overtake standing traffic on their nearside. They can get quite irate if one does not obey the rules of the road. I observed 4 cyclists riding abreast, transcending the wide cycle lane oblivious of heavy lorries travelling at over 100km/hr and leaving them inches to spare to overtake. This was communicated over dinner to make Riders aware of the protocols when cycling on the Continent. It is different to the U.K. where most of the time it is utterly confrontational.

Amiens Beckons

Today we were to pass through the battlefields of the Somme. The enormity of the battles which took place a century ago begins to dawn on one when seeing the various sites first-hand. The Somme front was some 40kms long where hundreds of thousands of men, 3,500 artillery pieces and three million shells were concentrated. Rolling bombardments, and hand to hand fighting in either dry sandy fields or muddy quagmires, must have been literally hell on earth for all those consumed by it. We were to pass through Blairville, Beaumont Hamel and the site of the Hawthorn Ridge Mine Explosion, often seen in newsreels of the time. Soon we were to arrive at the Thiepval Memorial. Before we were able to get there, however there was the small matter of climbing a 2 kilometre long hill to reach the top!

Historical Point – The memorial represents the names of over 72,000 officers and men. Designed by Sir Edwin Lutyens, the memorial was built between 1928 and 1932 and is the largest Commonwealth Memorial to the Missing in the World. My great uncle James Lowe was lost in the Great War, killed by a grenade when acting as a motorcycle dispatch rider. I would like to think the J Lowe marked on one of the stones is for him. OUR AIRFORCE After the formal ceremony, we were on our way to Corbie Cemetery, where our guides discussed the increasing importance of air warfare. As we stood in the cemetery overlooking the surrounding terrain, we were reminded that the landscape would have been very familiar to two fighter aces; a Nottingham born lad like me (also to become an aviator) namely Albert Ball, and Manfred von Richthofen (The Red Baron). Albert as a young man mirrored some of my own background and personal characteristics. He was very shy and had the same problem landing an aircraft as I had done.

When I was being taught to fly at East Midlands Airport, I had a mental block on landings. I was trying to place the aircraft precisely so the wheels would just kiss the runway instead of allowing the aircraft to land as it was designed to. The birds naturally do it by stalling just above the runway. I so exasperated my Australian Instructor that he said: “We going to fill this aircraft full of fuel, depart to Leicester Aerodrome and continually land until you get it right” (minus the expletives). After several attempts, suddenly I realised what he was wanting me to do. Fortunately, many years later, when I had to land at Avignon Airport in 45 knot crosswinds, the training came into its own. The captain of the Ryanair flight following me in, radioed the tower to say he hoped his landing was to be as good, quite a compliment! There our respective achievements separated markedly, except to say that I did achieve the Moet Chandon Trophy in a flying competition as the best navigator in Europe. Flying over two legs in Southern England and Northern France, I was able to predict my precise flying times from take-off to landings within 27 seconds on the first leg and 2 seconds on the second. Two Pilots in an RAF Jet Provost were not exactly impressed with me and my Socata TB10.

In the early days of military flying, pilots would fly alone deep into enemy territory, probably up to 20 miles, taking enormous risks as they surveyed enemy lines all the time subject to ground fire and attack from opposing aircraft. Albert Ball was my schoolboy hero after first reading about his exploits at the Nottingham Castle Museum, where I remember seeing exhibits of his smashed-up windscreen and the bullet indentation in his silver cigarette case which probably saved his life on that occasion. Albert Ball would go out on several patrols, each time the damage becoming more severe and enemy engagement growing in numbers of aircraft. The toll was becoming so great that he requested leave, only to be turned down and leading to the inevitable consequences. Historical Point – Albert Ball, V.C., D.S.O. & Two Bars, M.C. (14 August 1896 – 7 May 1917) was an English fighter pilot. At the time of his death he was the United Kingdom’s leading flying ace, with 44 victories, and remained its fourth-highest scorer behind Edward Mannock, James McCudden, and George McElroy. Raised in Nottingham, Ball was commissioned as a second lieutenant in October 1914. He flew reconnaissance missions before being posted to a fighter unit. From then until his return to England on leave in October, he accrued many aerial victories, earning two Distinguished Service Orders and the Military Cross. He was the first ace to become a British national hero. After a period on home establishment, Ball was posted to the Western Front in April 1917. He crashed to his death in a field in France on 7 May, sparking a wave of national mourning and posthumous recognition, which included the award of the Victoria Cross for his actions during his final tour of duty. The famous German flying ace Manfred von Richthofen, remarked upon hearing of Ball’s death that he was “by far the best English flying man”. Throughout his flying service Ball was primarily a “lone-wolf” pilot, stalking his prey from below until he drew close enough to use his top-wing Lewis gun on its Foster mounting, angled to fire upwards into the enemy’s fuselage. According to fellow ace and Victoria Cross recipient James McCudden: “it was quite a work of art to pull this gun down and shoot upwards, and at the same time manage one’s machine accurately”. Ball was as much a loner on the ground as in the air, preferring to stay in his hut on the flight line away from other squadron members. His off-duty hours were spent tending his small garden and practising the violin. Though not unsociable per se, he was extremely sensitive and shy. Ball acted as his own mechanic on his aircraft and, as a consequence, was often untidy and dishevelled. His singularity in dress extended to his habit of flying without a helmet and goggles, and he wore his thick black hair longer than regulations generally permitted. On one occasion apart from his normal duties, Ball undertook an unusual mission. On the evening of 28 July, he flew a French espionage agent across enemy lines. Dodging an attack by three German fighters, as well as anti-aircraft fire, he landed in a deserted field, only to find that the agent refused to get out of the aircraft. While he was on reconnaissance duties the London Gazette announced that he had been awarded the Military Cross “for conspicuous skill and gallantry on many occasions,” particularly for “one occasion [when] he attacked six in one flight”. This was not unusual; throughout his career, Ball generally attacked on sight and heedless of the odds. He professed no hatred for his opponents, writing to his parents: “I only scrap because it is my duty … Nothing makes me feel more rotten than to see them go down, but you see it is either them or me, so I must do my duty best to make it a case of them”. After destroying three enemy aircraft he ended one day by fighting 14 Germans some 15 miles (24 km) behind their lines. With his plane badly damaged and out of fuel, he struggled back to Allied lines to land. Soon he had increased his tally to 17 enemy aircraft, including three on 28 August. His feats in France had received considerable publicity. He was the first British ace to become a household name and found that his celebrity was such that he could not walk down the streets of Nottingham without being stopped and congratulated. Prior to this, the British government had suppressed the names of its aces—in contrast to the policy of the French and Germans—but the losses of the Battle of the Somme, which had commenced in July, made politic the publicising of its successes in the air. Ball’s achievements had a profound impact on budding flyer Mick Mannock, who would become the United Kingdom’s top-scoring ace and who also received the Victoria Cross. On one evening mission, Capt. Ball armed his ‘plane with eight Le Prieur rockets on the outer struts, set to fire electrically. He intended to use them on an observation balloon. As it happened, he spotted three German Roland C.IIs and broke their formation by salvoing his rockets at them, then picked off one of the confused pilots with machine-gun fire. After this he settled into an improved aeroplane he rigged it to fly tail-heavy to facilitate his changing of ammunition drums in the machine-gun, and had a holster built into the cockpit for the Colt automatic that he habitually carried. His total score standing at 31 made him Britain’s top-scoring ace. By this time he had told his commanding officer that he had to have a rest and that he was taking unnecessary risks because of his nerves. On 23 April 1917, Ball was under strict orders to stay over British lines but still engaged the Germans five times in his Nieuport. In his first combat that day, using his preferred belly shot, he sent an Albatross into a spin, following it down and continuing to fire at it until it struck the ground. It was No. 56 Squadron’s first victory. Regaining an altitude of 5,000 feet (1,500 m), he tried to dive underneath an Albatross two-seater and pop up under its belly as usual, but he overshot, and the German rear gunner put a burst of 15 bullets through the Nieuport’s wings and spars. Ball coaxed the Nieuport home for repairs, returning to battle in an S.E.5. In his third combat of the day, he fired five rounds before his machine gun jammed. After landing to clear the gun, he took off once more, surprising five Albatross fighters and sending one down in flames. His fifth battle, shortly thereafter, appeared inconclusive, as the enemy plane managed to land safely. However, its observer had been mortally wounded. Despite continual problems with jamming guns, Ball shot down seven Albatrosses in five days, including two reconnaissance models on 1 May, a reconnaissance plane and an Albatross D.III fighter on 2 May; a D.III on 4 May, and two D.IIIs the next day, 5 May. The second of these victims nearly rammed Ball as they shot it out in a head-on firing pass. As they sped past one another, Ball was left temporarily blinded by oil spraying from the holed oil tank of his craft. Clearing the oil from his eyes, he flew his plane home with zero oil pressure in an engine on the brink of seizure. He was so overwrought that it was some time after landing before he could finish thanking God, then dictating his combat report. In a following evening flight, he raised his tally to 44. He had continued to undertake his habitual lone patrols but had of late been fortunate to survive. The heavier battle damage that Ball’s aircraft were now suffering bore witness to the improved team tactics being developed by his German opponents. Some time on 6 May, Ball had visited his friend Billy Bishop at the latter’s aerodrome. He proposed that the pair attack the Red Baron’s squadron at its airfield at dawn, catching the German pilots off guard. Bishop agreed to take part in the daring scheme at the end of the month, after he returned from his forthcoming leave. On the evening of 7 May 1917, near Douai, 11 British aircraft from No. 56 Squadron led by Ball in an S.E.5 encountered German fighters from Jasta 11. A running dogfight in deteriorating visibility resulted, and the aircraft became scattered. Cecil Arthur Lewis, a participant in this fight, described it in his memoir Sagittarius Rising. Ball was last seen by fellow pilots pursuing the red Albatross D.III of the Red Baron’s younger brother, Lothar von Richthofen, who eventually landed near Annœullin with a punctured fuel tank. Cyril Crowe observed Ball flying into a dark thundercloud. A German pilot officer on the ground, Lieutenant Hailer, then saw Ball’s plane falling upside-down from the bottom of the cloud, at an altitude of 200 feet (61 m), with a dead prop. Brothers Franz and Carl Hailer and the other two men in their party were from a German reconnaissance unit, Flieger-Abteilung A292. Franz Hailer noted: “It was leaving a cloud of black smoke… caused by oil leaking into the cylinders.” The engine had to be inverted for this to happen. The Hispano engine was known to flood its inlet manifold with fuel when upside down and then stopped running. Franz Hailer and his three companions hurried to the crash site. Ball was already dead when they arrived. The four German airmen agreed that the crashed craft had suffered no battle damage. No bullet wounds were found on Ball’s body, even though Hailer went through Ball’s clothing to find identification. Hailer also took Ball to a field hospital. A German doctor subsequently described a broken back and a crushed chest, along with fractured limbs, as the cause of death. The Germans credited Richthofen with shooting down Ball, but there is some doubt as to what happened, especially as Richthofen’s claim was for a Sopwith Triplane, not an S.E.5, which was a biplane. Given the amount of propaganda the German high command generated touting the younger Richthofen, a high-level decision may have been taken to attribute Ball’s death to him. It is probable that Ball was not shot down at all, but had become disoriented and lost control during his final combat, the victim of a form of temporary vertigo that has claimed other pilots (we call it today ‘spacial disorientation.’

I have seen it happen when a co-pilot causing a change in command of the aircraft). It was only at the end of the month that the Germans dropped messages behind Allied lines announcing that Ball was dead and had been buried in Annoeullin with full military honours two days after he crashed. Over the grave of the man they dubbed “the English Richthofen”, the Germans erected a cross bearing the inscription In Luftkampf gefallen für sein Vaterland Engl. Flieger Hauptmann Albert Ball, Royal Flying Corps (“Fallen in air combat for his fatherland English pilot Captain Albert Ball”).

Ten miles later we reached Amiens pleased with ourselves we had survived two days of continuous effort, and tomorrow we would reach our halfway point. I was following my colleague most of the way to make sure he was OK, having had no experience before of riding so far continuously on an improvised machine. I have to say he was magnificent, full of determination and importantly immersing himself in the whole experience. I needn’t have worried; he was doing fine.

Saint Quentin was our next destination

Today was to be Australia’s Day. And shortly after departing we arrived at Villers-Bretonneux. At the main site of the Australian Memorial, we were shown the area where the Red Baron was shot down and the story of the first tank on tank action at nearby Cachy. It was here that there were several tank battles of enormous ferocity led by a Frank Mitchell. He seemed to me the sort of guy you would like to have around in a pitched battle, particularly when the outcome was very uncertain (refer to more detailed account in the historical points notes further on). I suppose this for me was the pivotal point of the whole experience. Travelling through the beautiful rolling landscape of the French countryside, for the most part on small roads, marked at the edges of fields with the vibrant colours of thousands of poppies, it was hard to imagine the place it must have been a century ago. Each day our guides were bringing to life the events of long ago and I suppose by cycling the route we were all beginning to appreciate the scale of the conflict. It is one thing to see diagrammatic illustrations of the lines on your television screen; it is quite another to see these actual sites first-hand. It is very evident why poppies were chosen for remembrance when they standout so much even when restricted to the edges of fields. The following poem perhaps encapsulates their special relevance:

“The Inquisitive Mind of a Child”

Why are they selling poppies, Mummy? Selling poppies in town today. The poppies, child, are flowers of love. For the men who marched away. But why have they chosen a poppy, Mummy? Why not a beautiful rose? Because my child, men fought and died In the fields where the poppies grow. But why are the poppies so red, Mummy? Why are the poppies so red? Red is the colour of blood, my child. The blood that our soldiers shed. The heart of the poppy is black, Mummy. Why does it have to be black? Black, my child, is the symbol of grief. For the men who never came back. But why, Mummy are you crying so? Your tears are giving you pain. My tears are my fears for you my child. For the world is forgetting again.

Today was to be my toughest day. Not from the physical exertion, but from the gathering emotional tempo. We all formed together at the main memorial to be met by a Lieutenant Colonel from the Australian Army. A member of the Australian contingent ‘Mates for Mates’ stepped forward and recounted a most painful account of his life after suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. In a trembling emotional voice, he explained it was difficult for him to speak to so many people and was just getting used to speaking one to one. He had through his illness lost a wife, found it difficult to keep relationships, moved from one job to another and through a bad business partner, was swindled out of his share of his business he had patiently built-up. There came a point when he remembers sitting in his car with a bottle of vodka in one hand and a fistful of tranquillisers in the other which would knock out a horse, when one of his few remaining friends rang him and asked what he was doing on his birthday. From that point, and with the association with H4H, the right support was brought to bear, and he became able to resume a normal life. Afterwards, I went over to him to say how courageous it was for him to speak like that and to bare his soul. I added he needn’t have worried as he was amongst friends. To my astonishment he just threw his arms around me and gave me a brotherly hug. The emotion of the moment I confess overwhelmed me, I had to get on my bike and ride alone with tears streaming down my face.

Having had my photograph taken with the Lieutenant Colonel, I was presented with a wooden cross endorsed by a message from an Australian schoolgirl called Natalie, commemorating the bravery of her Nation’s soldiers. At our remembrance service in France where I now live, I placed that cross with the others in the churchyard. It was now I was beginning to feel the full emotion enveloping me. I was still bearing the pain this year of losing two close ‘mates’ in quick succession over just two months; my personal lawyer for some 20 years, at the age of 61, and at just 53 my brother-in-law. My lawyer had enjoyed with me many successes buying and selling businesses. We shared many achievements together, but I shall remember him most of all for his loyal support when I was under grave threat from a corrupt foreign bank, resulting finally in the issue of a personal high court writ to prevent losing all I had gained over a generation of work. He stood by me every step of the way.

There then came the point at which I could no longer hold back the tears when Jodie Kid read the following poem based on experiences in the Burma Campaign:

MATES’ POEM (By Duncan Butler, 2/12th Field Ambulance)

I’ve travelled down some dusty roads Both crooked tracks and straight And I have learnt life’s noblest creed Summed up in one word, “Mate”. I’m thinkin’ back across the years A thing I do of late And these words stick between me ears “You gotta have a mate.” Someone who’ll take you as you are Regardless of your state And stand as firm as Ayers Rock Because he is your mate. Me mind goes back to ’43 To slavery and hate When man’s one chance to stay alive Depended on his mate. With bamboo for a billy-can And bamboo for a plate A bamboo paradise for bugs Was bed for me and my mate. You’d slip and slither through the mud And curse your rotten fate But then you’d hear a quiet word “Don’t drop your bundle, mate.” And though it’s all so long ago This truth I have to state A man don’t know what lonely means ’til he has lost his mate. If there’s a life that follows this If there’s a Golden Gate The welcome that I wanna hear Is just “Goodonya mate”. And so to all who ask us why We keep these special dates Like ANZAC Day, I tell ’em “Why?! We’re thinkin’ of our mates.” And when I’ve left the driver’s seat And ‘anded in me plates I’ll tell Ol’ Peter at the door “I’ve come to join me mates.”

I couldn’t take much more of this.

Historical Point – In early April 1918, the Germans renewed their efforts, simultaneously beginning the Battle of the Lys in Flanders. The Germans managed to advance towards Villers-Bretonneux, a town on the high ground to the south of the Somme River. The terrain allowed artillery observers to see bombardments on Amiens, which was only 16 kilometres (9.9 mi) away, which was of great tactical value. On 4 April, the Germans attempted to capture the town with 15 divisions but were repulsed by troops from the British 1st Cavalry Division and Australian 9th Brigade during the First Battle of Villers-Bretonneux. After the first battle, the forces that had secured the town were relieved and by late April the area around Villers-Bretonneux was largely held by the 8th Division. Although it had been one of the best British divisions it had suffered badly in the German attacks of March, losing 250 officers and about 4,700 men, reducing its infantry by half. Replacements in the latest draft from Britain included 18-year-olds with little training. German 2nd Army attack On 17/18 April, the Germans bombarded the area behind Villers-Bretonneux with mustard gas, causing 1,000 Australian casualties. On the evening of 23/24 April, an artillery barrage was fired, using mustard gas and high explosive rounds. Next morning, the Germans attacked the village with four divisions. The German infantry, with fourteen supporting tanks (one was unserviceable), broke through the 8th Division, making a 3-mile (4.8 km) wide gap in the Allied line. Villers-Bretonneux fell to the Germans and the railway junction of Amiens became vulnerable to capture. After the Germans took Villers-Bretonneux, the first engagement between opposing tanks took place. Three British Mark IV tanks from No. 1 Section, A Company, 1st Battalion, Tank Corps had been dispatched to the Cachy switch line, at the first reports of German advance and were to hold it against the Germans. One was a “male” (the No. 1 Tank of the section) armed with two 6-pounder guns and machine guns, under the command of Lieutenant Frank Mitchell. It was crewed by only four of the normal crew of eight, as the others had been gassed. The other tanks were “females” armed with 0.303 in (7.7 mm) machine-guns, for use against infantry. All were advancing when they encountered a German A7V, “Nixe” of Abteilung III Imperial German Tank Force, commanded by 2nd Lieutenant Wilhelm Biltz. Nixe fired on the two “females”, damaging them to the extent that it left holes in the hull leaving the crew exposed. Both retreated; their machine guns were unable to penetrate the armour on the German tank. Mitchell’s “male” Mark IV continued to fire at the A7V, while on the move to avoid German artillery fire and the gun of the German tank. The movement meant Mitchell’s gunner had difficulty in aiming the 6-pounders. The tanks fired at each other on the move, until the Mark IV stopped to allow the gunner a clear shot and the gunner scored three hits (a total of six shell hits). Nixe heeled over on its side, possible as a result of crossing an incline at the wrong angle. The surviving German crew (out of 18 men), including Biltz, alighted from the vehicle and the British fired at them as they fled on foot, killing nine. The British tank was next faced by two more A7Vs, supported by infantry; Mitchell’s tank fired several ranging shots at the German tanks and they retreated. Mitchell’s tank continued to attack the German infantry, firing case-shot. Seven of the new British Whippet medium tanks arrived, attacked the Germans, encountered some battalions “forming up in the open” and killed many infantry with their machine-guns and by running them down. Mitchell later remarked that when they returned their tracks were covered with blood. Only four of the seven Whippets came back, the rest were destroyed by artillery and five crew were killed. Being the last tank on the field and slow moving, the Mark IV became a target for German artillery and Mitchell ordered the tank back, manoeuvring to try to avoid the shells but a mortar round disabled the tracks. The crew left the tank, escaping to a British-held trench, much to the surprise of the troops in it when they were asked to get their bayonets out of the way As we progressed closer to our destination, there continued a flood of other historical events at Pargny and Manchester Hill, including accounts of further acts of heroism in dire circumstances. This was like a street fight to a deadly finish. Not to be forgotten was the industrialisation of the war, the building of narrow-gauge railways for supplies of men and materials, even the constructing of a brewery by Everards in Leicester. Eventually, a very emotional day ended. We had reached over the halfway point and our fourth, penultimate, day awaited. Although longer, it would be over flat terrain.

Reims

The Ride to Reims was a gentle ride through the most glorious landscape of the Champagne country. We passed Cerny-en-Laonnnois on top of the impressive Chemin des Dames ridge along the river Aisne. The large French and German cemeteries are a testament to the ferocity of the battles which took place there. We also encountered the Californian Plateau, originally a place for our forces to enjoy rest and recuperation, only to be chosen by the Germans as their attempt in 1918 to break the Allies and form a spear head for a massive German offensive. I suppose ‘Murphy’s Law’ applying again! Something I had not been aware of before, was the construction of the ‘Paris Gun’ designed to shell Paris some 70 miles away. This was the first time a projectile had been launched 27 miles into the stratosphere, becoming the precursor of space technology and the Iraq Supergun. Mr. Gadaffi tried to emulate the same until he was informed what would happen if he proceeded with his project! At last, the final day had arrived and the finishing line was in site at the bottom of the hill before the Verdun Ossuary. The sites were beginning to peter out although Verdun actually marked the beginning of the major battles a century ago. Verdun was a battle which continued for 10 months, and the French suffered very badly as the lines continually engaged one another.

At the bottom of the hill we all gathered for a ‘Grand Depart’ up a 3 kilometre steep hill for our final formal ceremony. Someone in H4H has a great sense of humour! As we climbed the hill, a rider in front on each pedal stroke called out a name. When I asked someone what he was doing he said: “He is reciting the names of his dead comrades.”

Historical Point – The Battle of Verdun, fought from 21 February to 18 December 1916, was one of the largest battles of the First World War on the Western Front between the German and French armies. The battle took place on the hills north of Verdun-sur-Meuse in north-eastern France. The German 5th Army attacked the defences of the Région Fortifiée de Verdun (RFV) and those of the Second Army garrisons on the right bank of the Meuse, intending to rapidly capture the Côtes de Meuse (Meuse Heights), from which Verdun could be overlooked and bombarded with observed artillery fire. The German strategy aimed to provoke the French into attacking to drive the Germans off the heights. The Germans captured ground early in the battle, but the French quickly contained the German advance and were able to recapture much of the lost territory towards the end of the year, despite the demands of the Battle of the Somme (1 July – 18 November) in Picardy to the north-west. The German strategy assumed that the French would attempt to hold on to the east bank of the Meuse and then commit the French strategic reserve to recapture it. The French would suffer catastrophic losses from German artillery fire, and the German infantry held positions that were easy to defend and suffer fewer losses. The German plan was based on the experience of the Second Battle of Champagne (Herbstschlacht from September and October 1915), when after early success; the French offensive was defeated with more French than German casualties. Poor weather delayed the beginning of the German Verdun offensive until 21 February. French construction of defensive lines and the arrival of reinforcements before the opening attack, delayed the German advance despite many French losses. By 6 March, 20 1⁄2 French divisions were in the RFV and a more extensive defence in depth had been constructed. Pétain ordered that no withdrawals were to be made and that counterattacks were to be conducted, despite exposing French infantry to fire from the German artillery. By 29 March, French artillery on the west bank had begun a constant bombardment of German positions on the east bank, which caused many German infantry casualties. In March, the German offensive was extended to the left (west) bank of the Meuse, to gain observation of the ground from which French artillery had been firing over the river, into the flank of the German infantry on the east bank. The German troops were able to advance at first, but French reinforcements contained the attacks short of their objectives. In early May, the Germans changed tactics and made local attacks and counterattacks, which gave the French an opportunity to begin an attack against Fort Douaumont. Part of the fort was occupied, until a German counterattack recaptured the fort and took numerous prisoners. The Germans changed tactics again, alternating their attacks on both banks of the Meuse and in June captured Fort Vaux. The Germans continued the offensive beyond Vaux, towards the last geographical objectives of the original plan, at Fleury Devant-Douaumont and Fort Souville. German attacks drove a salient into the French defences, captured Fleury and came within 4 km (2.5 mi) of the Verdun citadel. In July 1916, the German offensive was reduced to provide artillery and infantry reinforcements for the Somme front and during local operations, the village of Fleury changed hands sixteen times from 23 June to 17 August and a German attempt to capture Fort Souville in early July, was repulsed by artillery and small-arms fire. To supply reinforcements for the Somme front, the German offensive was reduced further, and attempts were made to deceive the French into expecting more attacks, to keep French reinforcements away from the Somme. In August and December, French counter-offensives recaptured much of the ground lost on the east bank and recovered Fort Douaumont and Fort Vaux. An estimate in 2000 found a total of 714,231 casualties, 377,231 French and 337,000 German, an average of 70,000 casualties a month; other recent estimates increase the number of casualties to 976,000, with 1,250,000 suffered at Verdun during the war. The Battle of Verdun lasted for 303 days and became the longest and one of the costliest battles in human history.

In Conclusion

At the close of the formal dinner, at the hotel overlooking the river at the main gateway into Verdun and featured on many newsreels a century ago, it is difficult to imagine how it might have been then. I did manage to sneak to a quiet balcony, watching everyone enjoying themselves and relaxing in the hotel grounds while I reflected on the total experience while I sipped on my large cool ‘panache’. It is one thing to attempt such a ride with a body intact but to attempt such a feat with the disabilities of some riders was truly inspiring to us all. At least two riders completed the course on arm power alone. It is totally humbling to witness these heroes in action. It’s difficult to summarise in a few words the experience of the week. However, I did conclude that the combination of commemorating our noble warriors past and present, involvement of our wounded, reliving the events of the past through excellent guides, and the brilliant support of the H4H Support Team and Discovery Adventures looking after our every need, made it such a memorable week. Above all was the comradeship of others supporting each other every step of the way, be it a kind word of support or the sharing of food gels to help take away the tiredness. If only this were replicated fully in day-to-day life, what a wonderful world we all would be sharing, and counting our great blessings. Our peddling padre, Roger, a Jesuit Priest, had as a theme for his services that in life we will all encounter five aspects irrespective of our station. Love; Beauty; Responsibility; Loneliness; Pain and Suffering. Little did I know I would encounter four in one week, apart from the loneliness! It makes one proud to be British! Working in close partnership with our longstanding allies from France, U.S.A., Canada, Australia, New Zealand, India and Portugal, we achieved so much in dire adversity. Our freedoms, liberty and democracy all stem to those sacrifices made a century ago. I sit writing these recollections waiting for the outcome of the Brexit vote. I could not help reflecting on what our predecessors would have made of it. Have we fully honoured their sacrifices on our behalf? Did our leaders eloquently, honestly and constructively help us make the judgement call we are being asked to make? Whatever the outcome, either way, we had better make it work for all our citizens and be positive partners for our allies, old and new. Maybe the U.K. must assume the role of leadership once more; to lead all nations out of the morass we seem to be locked in at the moment.

Ron Kirk

Saint Malo, France