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From Chauffeur to Brigadier

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From Chauffeur to Brigadier
Leonaur Original
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Author(s): C. D. Baker-Carr
Date Published: 2014/12
Page Count: 268
Softcover ISBN-13: 978-1-78282-452-7
Hardcover ISBN-13: 978-1-78282-451-0

An outstanding pioneer of mechanised and armoured warfare

While the story of a man who was a civilian driver in 1914, but who rose to become a Brigadier-General in consequence of his services during the four years duration of the First World War cannot be anything but incredible, readers will be astonished to learn that this was by no means the most remarkable aspect of Christopher Baker-Carr’s military career. Recognised as the officer in the British Army who knew ‘more about machine guns than anyone’, Baker-Carr, often opposed, almost single-handedly, brought about the specialised training of machine gunners, the creation of the Machine Gun Training School, the increased manufacture and widespread adoption of the machine gun by the British Army and the creation of the Machine Gun Corps itself. Recognising the potential of a new weapon to break the stalemate of trench warfare, he then became a primary influence in the development of the battle tank becoming commander of the First Tank Brigade. There can be few other British soldiers, who have all but faded from military history, whose role  has averted imminent disaster in times of great peril and of whom it can be said that he made a contribution to victory of such importance. Republished in this new edition in cooperation with the author’s family, this book is highly recommended to all those interested in the development of modern warfare.
Leonaur editions are newly typeset and are not facsimiles; each title is available in softcover and hardback with dustjacket.

Suddenly, at about half-past four, an hour and a half before zero, a heavy barrage was put down on the trenches in which we were peacefully seated. We hastily retired to a convenient dugout and sat anxiously wondering whether our plans had been betrayed. For half an hour the shelling continued; then, as suddenly as it had begun, it died away and all was quiet again. Even then we were not quite happy in our minds and uneasily waited for the dawn.
A few minutes before six a.m., zero hour, a buzz ran along the line.
“Here they come.”
In the dim light, the vast bulk of the tanks could be faintly seen moving towards the line.
Almost as though a warning-bell had been rung by the approaching tanks, so precise was the synchronisation, a thousand guns at that moment flamed into activity. With an ear-splitting roar the barrage came down and the infantry, rising to their feet, followed their protecting tanks.
The German barrage replied, but it was paltry in comparison with ours and many of the German guns were put out of action after firing a few rounds. Rockets and S.O.S. signals flared from every point of the enemy line, calling for help where no help was to be found.
Quickly the first line of wire was reached, trampled and crushed down by the tanks. Through these lanes the infantry poured and leapt down on to the panic-stricken defenders, who put up their hands and surrendered, almost without firing a shot.
On again, meeting with little opposition, the tanks moved forward towards the second and third lines, followed by laughing, cheering soldiers. This was a proper sort of battle, they thought; lots of fun and little danger.
Only at a few points was serious resistance encountered, though in one case a heavy loss of tanks occurred, partly through evil fortune, partly through the heroism of one single German officer, and partly through a somewhat “ca’ canny” attitude on the part of the accompanying infantry.
The tanks, followed at too great an interval by the infantry, topped a slope outside the village of Flesquières. On the far side of the crest stood the relics of a German field battery. One gun and one officer alone remained. With splendid devotion and self-sacrifice, this officer fired his gun at point-blank range as the top of each tank appeared above the crest-line and knocked out no less than sixteen of them before he himself was killed beside his gun.
The result of this check was far-reaching. The triumphant advance was badly delayed and much valuable time lost. It was not only vexatious in the highest degree, but doubly so in that the incident should never have taken place.
General Harper, commanding the 51st Division, the troops concerned in the Flesquières attack, had, as I pointed out above, never had any faith in the scheme of operations. He had laid down a system of co-operation with tanks which was, essentially, based on disbelief. If all went well with the tanks, “my little fellers,” as he affectionately called his division, could take advantage of the situation; if things, however, fared badly, then his men would not be implicated in any disaster; and would suffer no heavy losses.
The result of this method of “co-operation” was that the tanks outdistanced the laggard infantry and; were massacred by the action of a single man whom one well-directed bullet would have settled. If the whole-hearted faith of the 62nd Division had been displayed by the commander of the 51st Division, the check at Flesquières would never have taken place and no “regrettable incident” would have marred our progress.
Nobody could help admiring the great courage of the German artillery officer, but to us it appeared somewhat tactless, to put it mildly, for the British commander-in-chief specifically to mention him in dispatches. We all regarded this commendation as a direct incentive to others “to go and do likewise,” a consummation sincerely to be deprecated at any rate by the Tank Corps. I feel sure that hundreds of German officers gladly would have laid down their lives if, by their self-sacrifice and devotion, they could merit the distinction of being mentioned in enemy dispatches.
Chivalry to the fallen is much to be admired, after it can do no harm, but any inducement to raise the courage of your foes is poor policy.
As a German naval officer is reported to have said at the beginning of the war, when saved from drowning at the imminent risk of his rescuers:
You English will always be fools and we Germans will never be gentlemen.