Rogerson - The Last of the Ebb: The Battle of the Aisne, 1918

The Battle of the Aisne, 1918

SIDNEY ROGERSON

Foreword by Peter Rogerson

Introduction by Malcolm Brown

FRONTLINE BOOKS

______________

A Greenhill Book

The Last of the Ebb: The Battle of the Aisne, 1918

A Greenhill Book

This edition published in 2011 by Frontline Books,
an imprint of Pen & Sword Books Limited,
47 Church Street, Barnsley, S. Yorkshire, S70 2AS

Copyright Sidney Rogerson, 1937
Foreword Peter Rogerson, 2007
Introduction Malcolm Brown, 2007

ISBN 978-1-84832-611-8

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stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any
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or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication
may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP data record for this title is available from the British Library

PUBLISHING HISTORY
The Last of the Ebb was first published in 1937 by Arthur Barker,
London, and reprinted in 2007 by Greenhill Books with a new
introduction by Malcolm Brown and a new foreword by Peter
Rogerson. This new publication by Frontline Books is the first
paperback edition of the work.

For more information on our books, please visit
www.frontline-books.com, email info@frontline-books.com
or write to us at the above address.

Printed and bound in Great Britain by MPG Books Ltd

CONTENTS

(between pages 5859)

All pictures reproduced courtesy of The Imperial War Museum

THERE IS MUCH WIRE
German trench-mortar team passing the old 8th Division front line near Berry-au-Bac.

EVERYWHERE WAS RUIN
Our captured positions on the Aisne Canal seen from Hill 108. Berry-au-Bac in the background.

THE BRIDGE AT PONTAVERT
German infantry being ferried across the Aisne. The vital crossings were seized within three hours of the opening assault.

BY WAY OF SAVIGNY WE WENT
French and British troops at Savigny, May 28. (Note signpost to Jonchery.)

THEIR INFANTRY SWARMED ACROSS THE OPEN COUNTRY
German machine-gun detachment approaching the River Vesle.

CRUGNY WAS ALREADY IN GERMAN HANDS
German transport approaching Crugny (in distance).

IN THE OPEN
British infantry awaiting the enemy, May 29.
German infantry in the unspoilt country on May 27.

TWO-WAY TRAFFIC CONGESTION OF THE WORST KIND
8th Divisional infantry, French infantry, transport, and cookers at Passy, May 29, 1918.

THE LAST HANDFUL
8th Divisional infantry crossing the Marne.

PRISONERS
Men of the West Yorkshires being marched back. First British prisoners being brought back through a mine crater.

THE WINTERBERG (CALIFORNIE PLATEAU) AFTER ITS CAPTURE
F. Marshal von Hindenburg and H.I.M. the Kaiser on the Winterberg, 28th May.

THE HEADQUARTERS OF THE 150TH BRIGADE WERE TAKEN AND THE BRIGADIER MADE PRISONER
The Kaiser talking to the captured Brigadier. With H.I.M. are Generals von Bhn and von Conta.

As a small boy, my bedroom doubled up as my fathers dressing room. I would go to bed with his memorabilia looking down upon me. A team photograph of Worksop college 1st XI; a doctors wooden medicine chest circa 1850; and a First World War German artillery officers helmet complete with mounted ball on top, and the German Imperial Eagle spread across the front. Along with all my books and toys, they made up the decoration of my room.

When a bit older I asked my father (who was now in his early fifties) about the helmet, he recounted how he had picked it up during the war and that it was worn by an artillery officer, having the ball on top and not the spike of the infantry more often seen in old photographs. This was the first inkling I had of his service for three years during that terrible war. I discovered a little later, in the top drawer of his lovely old oak trouser press on the landing, further pieces of battlefield detritus; a small bayonet in its scabbard and a piccolo. Other items in the house suddenly made sense. A grim painting in my brothers bedroom depicting a patrol in No-Mans-Land, a waterlogged shell hole with a blasted corpse and, silhouetted against the darkening sky, two helmeted British Tommies. Various highly-polished brass shell cases as door-stops, and a photograph of a distinguished senior army officer, Brigadier James Jack, my fathers commanding officer in 1916. I had heard references to Jolly Jimmy Jack on numerous occasions and could now put a face to him. Depicted in the first of his two war memoirs Twelve Days, he left a lasting impression on my father, who went on to help him publish his war diaries in 1964 in collaboration with John Terraine.

Bit by bit I learned more of my fathers wartime exploits but regret, in later life, that I never pushed him to answer any questions on his personal experiences of that time. As a young child I was not really interested and, anyway, I was rather in awe of him and felt it perhaps rather impertinent! It was made doubly difficult because for all his working life thereafter, in London with ICI, the War Office and the Wellcome Foundation, he only came home to Suffolk at weekends. These days were very precious to him but I never had a real opportunity to get him to reminisce. My mother told me one day that he had been recommended for a M.C. and the D.S.O., the relevance of which meant little to me at the time. So many exploits during that war were deserving of medals. He always looked the military man, with his erect posture, barrel chest and neat moustache but was really a countryman with a zest for living and interest in people. He was a fount of knowledge on a whole range of subjects (the diversity of his other books bear testament to this) and was fond of quoting from history or reciting chunks of Latin. His charm and wit made him excellent company.