The First Tank Battle

[David]

The Worlds first Tank vs Tank engagement was fought on April 24^th 1918, between the village of Cachy and the small town of Villers-Bretonnaux, outside of Amiens. When the German themselves finally started to use Tanks, it was, of course, only a matter of time before something like this would occur. In mid-April 1918 the German Spring Offensive of 1918 was still in swing, with German forces attacking, among other places, towards Amiens. If they could manage to take that city, it would be a great success, as it was both an important rail and road centre, and also a point of junction between the British and French armies fighting on the Western Front. The fall of Amiens could, at worst, mean the separation of the allied armies from each, or at least a logistical disaster for them.

Between Cachy and Villers-Bretonneux lay some high ground, very important, as the possession if it, would permit the Germans to shell Amiens at will. This was known by the allies, and the position was well defended, both by French Foreign Legioneers and British Infantry and also by a detachment of British Tanks. The Tanks were four old, recently renovated Mk IV:s, 1^st Section, A Coy, 1^st Tank Batallion, plus seven Mk A "Whippets".

The attacking Germans lacked both troops and artillery ammunition, but they had an ace in the hole: the 15 A7V tanks of ATD:s 1, 2 and 3. (One tank later broke down on march, and did not participate in the attack.) On the night between 23^rd and 24^th April, the German barrage opened up: 1.208 guns participated, and they raked all enemy positions with both HE and gas grenades. (Special attention was given to a section of wood north of Cachy, where German aircraft earlier had spotted some of the British tanks, standing in readiness.)

At seven o clock in the morning, the German attack started. The situation was, as always, very confusing, but soon it was clear to the British tankers waiting in the woods that the Germans were making good ground. One of them was 2^nd Lieutenant Francis Mitchell, who commanded a Mk IV (male), no.4066. (No more details are known of the markings of his Tank.) This is his version of what occured then.
Below is an excerpt from a TV film

[…]
"Meanwhile, as the shelling grew in intensity, a few wounded men and some stragglers came into sight. Their report was depressing : Villers-Bretonneux had been captured, and with it many of our own men. The Boche had almost broken through.

By this time two of my crew had developed nasty gas symptoms, spitting, coughing, and getting purple in the face. They were led away to the rear, one sprawling limply in a wheel barrow found in the wood. A little later an infantry brigadier appeared on the scene with two orderlies. He also was unaware of the exact position ahead, and, accompanied by Captain J. C. Brown, M.C., and the runners, he went forward to investigate. ln ten minutes one of the runners came back, limping badly, hit in the leg. In another ten minutes the second returned, his left arm torn by shrapnel. Twenty minutes after that, walking unhurt and serene through the barrage, came the brigadier and our captain.
The news was grave. We had suffered heavy losses and lost ground, and if our infantry were driven out of the switch-line between Cachy and Villers-Bretonneux, the Germans would obtain possession of the high ground dominating Amiens. They would then perhaps force us to evacuate that city and drive a wedge between the French and British armies.

A serious consultation was held, and the order came: "Proceed to the Cachy switch-line and hold it at all costs."
We put on our masks once more and plunged, like divers, into the gas-laden wood. As we struggled to crank up, one of the three men collapsed. We put him against a tree, gave him some tablets of ammonia to sniff, and then, as he did not seem to be coming round, we left him, for time was pressing. Out of a crew of seven there remained only four men, with red-rimmed, bulging eyes, while my driver, the second reserve driver, had had only a fortnight’s driving experience. Fortunately one gearsman was loaned to me from another tank.
The three tanks, one male, armed with two 6-pounder guns and machine guns, and two females, armed with machine guns only, crawled out of the wood and set off over the open ground towards Cathy, Captain Brown coming in my tank.

Ahead loomed the German barrage, a menacing wail of fire in our path. There was no break in it anywhere. Should I go straight ahead and trust to luck? It seemed impossible that we could pass through that deadly area unhit. I decided to attempt a zigzag course, as somehow it seemed safer.

Luck was with us. At top speed we went safely through the danger zone and soon reached the Cachy lines; but there was no sign of our infantry.

Suddenly, out of the ground ten yards away, an infantryman rose, waving his rifle furiously. We stopped. He ran forward awl shouted through the flap, "Look out! Jerry tanks about!" Swiftly he disappeared into the trench again, and Captain Brown immediately got out and ran across the heavily shelled ground to warn the female tanks.

I informed the crew, and a great thrill ran through us all. Opening a loophole, I looked out. There, some three hundred yards away, a round, squat-looking monster was advancing; behind it came waves of infantry, and farther away to the left and right crawled two more of these armed tortoises.

So we had met our rivals at last! For the first time in history tank was encountering tank!

The 6-pounder gunners crouching on the floor, their backs against the engine cover, loaded their guns expectantly.

We still kept on a zigzag course, threading the gaps between the lines of hastily dug trenches, and coming near the small protecting belt of wire we turned left, arid the right gunner, peering through his narrow slit, made a sighting shot. The shell burst some distance beyond the leading enemy tank. No reply came. A second shot boomed out, landing just to the right, but again there was no reply. More shots followed.
Suddenly a hurricane of hail pattered against our steel wall, filling the interior with myriads of sparks and flying splinters. Something rattled against the steel helmet of the driver sitting next to me, and my face was stung with minute fragments of steel. The crew flung themselves flat on the floor. The driver ducked his head and drove straight on.

Above the roar of our engine sounded the staccato rat-tat-tat-tat of machine guns, and another furious jet of bullets sprayed our steel side, the splinters clanging against the engine cover. The Jerry tank had treated us to a broadside of armour-piercing bullets!

Taking advantage of a dip in the ground, we got beyond range, and then turning, we manoeuvred to get the left gunner on to the moving target. Owing to our gas casualties the gunner was working single-handed, and his right eye being swollen with gas, he aimed with the left. Moreover, as the ground was heavily scarred with shell holes, we kept going up and down like a ship in a heavy sea, which made accurate shooting difficult. His first shot fell some fifteen yards in front, the next went beyond, and then I saw the shells bursting all round the tank. He fired shot after shot in rapid succession every time it came into view.

Nearing the village of Cachy, I noticed to my astonishment that the two females were slowly limping away to the rear. Almost immediately on their arrival they had both been hit by shells which tore great holes in their sides, leaving them defenceless against machine-gun bullets, and as their Lewis guns were useless against the heavy armour-plate of the enemy they could do nothing but withdraw.

Now the battle was to us, with our infantry in their trenches tensely watching the duel, like spectators in the pit of a theatre. For a moment they became uncomfortably more than spectators. As we turned and twisted to dodge the enemy’s shells I looked down to find that we were going straight into a trench full of British soldiers, who were huddled together and yelling at the tops of their voices to attract our attention. A quick signal to the gearsman seated in the rear of tho tank and we turned swiftly, avoiding catastrophe by a second.

Then came our first casualty. Another raking broadside from the German tank, and the rear Lewis gunner was wounded in both legs by an armour-piercing bullet which tore through our steel plate. We had no time to put on more than a temporary dressing, and he lay on the door, bleeding and groaning, whilst the 6-pounder boomed over his head and the empty shell cases clattered all round him
The roar of our engine, the nerve-racking rat-tat-tat of our machine guns blazing at the Boche infantry, and the thunderous booni of the 6 pounders, all bottled up in that narrow space, filled our ears with tumult, while the fumes of petrol and cordite half stifled us. We turned again and proceeded at a slower pace. The left gunner, registering carefully, began to hit the ground right in front of the Jerry tank. I took a risk and stopped the tank for a moment. The pause was justified; a well aimed shot hit the enemy’s conning tower, bringing him to a standstill. Another roar and yet another white puff at the front of the tank denoted a second hit! Peering with swollen eyes through his narrow slit, the gunner shouted words of triumph that were drowned by the roar of the engine. Then once more he aimed with great deliberation and hit for the third time. Through a loophole I saw the tank heel over to one side; then a door opened, and out ran the crew. We had knocked the monster out!
Quickly I signed to the machine gunner, and he poured volley after volley into the retreating figures.

My nearest enemy being now out of action, I turned to look at the other two, who were coming forward slowly, while our 6-pounder gunners spread havoc in the ranks of the advancing German infantry with round after round of case-shot, which scattered like the charge of a shot gun.

Now, I thought, we shall not last very long. The two great tanks were creeping relentlessly forward; if they both concentrated their fire on us at once we would be finished. We fired rapidly at the nearest tank, and to my intense joy and amazement I saw it slowly back away. Its companion also did not appear to relish a fight, for it turned and followed its mate, and in a few minutes they had both disappeared, leaving our tank the sole possessor of the field.

This situation, however gratifying, soon displayed numerous disadvantages. We were now the only thing above round, and naturally the German artillery made savage efforts to wipe us off the map. Up and down we went, followed by a trail of bursting shells. I was afraid that at any minute a shell would penetrate the roof and set the petrol alight, making the tank a roaring furnace before we could escape.

Then I saw an aeroplane flying overhead not more than a hnndred feet up. A great black cross was on each underwing, and as it crossed over us I could see clearly the figures of the pilot and observer. Something round and black dropped from it. For a fraction of a second I watched it, horrified: the front of the tank suddenly bounded up into the air, and the whole machine seemed to stand on end. Everything shook, rattled, jarred with an earthquaking shock. We fell back with a mighty crash, and then continued on our journey unhurt. Our steel walls had held nobly, but how much more would they endure?

A few minutes later, as we were turning, the driver failed to notice that we were on the edge of a steep shell hole, and down we went with a crash, so suddenly that one of the gunners was thrown forward on top of me. In order to right the tank the driver ferked open the throttle to its fullest extent. We snorted up the opposite lip of the crater at full speed, but when just about to clamber over the edge the engine stopped. Our nose was pointing heavenwards, a lovely stationary target for the Boche artillery.

A deadly silence ensued.

After the intolerable racket of the past few hours it seemed to us uncanny. Now we could hear the whining of shells, and the vicious crump as they exploded near at hand. Fear entered our hearts; we were inclined at such a steep angle that we found it impossible to crank up the engine again. Every second we expected to get a shell through the top. Almost lying on their sides, the crew strained and heaved at the starting handle, but to no effect.

Our nerves were en edge; there was but one thing left, to put the tank in reverse gear, release the rear brake, and run backwards down the shell hole under our own weight. Back we slid, and happily the engine began to splutter, then, carefully nursing the throttle, the driver changed gear, and we climbed out unhurt.

[…]
Excerpt from "Tank Warfare – The Story of the Tanks in the Great War", by Frank Mitchell, published in 1933.
The A7V:s that Mitchell and his men in the Mk IV fought against were "Nixe", "Siegfried" and "Schnuck". The Tank that they hit was "Nixe", commanded by 2nd Lieutenant Wilhelm Biltz: his tank had been delayed due to mechanical problems, and had not been able to join the attack until nine o'clock in the morning. Three of the men in "Nixe" were killed in the engagement, three others suffered lighter wounds. "Nixe" was in fact not completely knocked out. After taking the hits from "4066" the crew abandoned "Nixe", but after a while they noticed that the engine was still running, so they got back into the tank, and actually managed to get it some 2 kilometers back towards the German lines, before the vehicle finally broke down.