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<h3>LIFE IN A TANK</h3>
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<div class="fig">><SPAN name="frontis" id="frontis"></SPAN> <SPAN href="images/frontis.jpg"> <ANTIMG border="0" src="images/frontis.jpg" width-obs="48%" alt="A Tank on its Way into Action" /></SPAN><br/> <p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">A TANK ON ITS WAY INTO ACTION<span class="totoi"><SPAN href="#toi">ToList</SPAN></span></p> </div>
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<h1>LIFE IN A TANK</h1>
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<h4><i>By</i></h4>
<h3>RICHARD HAIGH, M.C.</h3>
<h4>CAPTAIN IN THE TANK CORPS</h4>
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<h4><i>With Illustrations</i></h4>
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<div class="fig">> <ANTIMG border="0" src="images/deco.jpg" width-obs="12%" alt="Publisher's Mark" /></div>
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<h5>BOSTON AND NEW YORK<br/>
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY<br/>
The Riverside Press Cambridge</h5>
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<h5>COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY RICHARD HAIGH<br/>
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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED<br/>
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<i>Published June 1918</i></h5>
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<SPAN name="toc" id="toc"></SPAN><hr />
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<h2>Contents</h2>
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<div class="centered">
<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="65%" summary="Table of Contents">
<tr>
<td class="tdr">I.</td>
<td class="tdl"><SPAN href="#I">The Meaning of the Tank Corps</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdr">1</td>
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<tr>
<td class="tdr">II.</td>
<td class="tdl"><SPAN href="#II">First Days of Training</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdr">11</td>
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<tr>
<td class="tdr">III.</td>
<td class="tdl"><SPAN href="#III">Later Days of Training</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdr">37</td>
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<td class="tdr">IV.</td>
<td class="tdl"><SPAN href="#IV">Moving up the Line</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdr">49</td>
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<td class="tdr">V.</td>
<td class="tdl"><SPAN href="#V">Preparations for the Show</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdr">61</td>
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<td class="tdr">VI.</td>
<td class="tdl"><SPAN href="#VI">The First Battle</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdr">76</td>
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<td class="tdr">VII.</td>
<td class="tdl"><SPAN href="#VII">The Second Battle</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdr">90</td>
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<td class="tdr">VIII.</td>
<td class="tdl"><SPAN href="#VIII">Rest and Discipline</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdr">120</td>
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<td class="tdr">IX.</td>
<td class="tdl"><SPAN href="#IX">A Philosophy of War</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdr">128</td>
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</table></div>
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<h2>Illustrations</h2>
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<div class="centered">
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="65%" summary="List of Illustrations">
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<td class="tdl" width="80%">A Tank on its Way into Action</td>
<td class="tdr" width="20%"><SPAN href="#frontis"><i>Frontispiece</i></SPAN></td>
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<td class="tdl2">British Official Photograph</td>
<td class="tdr"> </td>
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<td class="tdl">King George and Queen Mary inspecting a Tank on the British
Front in France</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#imagep008">8</SPAN></td>
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<td class="tdl2">British Official Photograph</td>
<td class="tdr"> </td>
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<td class="tdl">A British Tank and its Crew in New York</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#imagep020">20</SPAN></td>
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<td class="tdl2">Photograph by Underwood & Underwood</td>
<td class="tdr"> </td>
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<td class="tdl">A Tank moving to the Attack down what was once a Main Street</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#imagep056">56</SPAN></td>
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<td class="tdl2">British Official Photograph</td>
<td class="tdr"> </td>
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<td class="tdl">A Tank going over a Trench on its Way into Action</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#imagep072">72</SPAN></td>
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<td class="tdl2">British Official Photograph</td>
<td class="tdr"> </td>
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<td class="tdl">A Tank halfway over the Top and awaiting the Order to
Advance in the Battle of Menin Road</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#imagep080">80</SPAN></td>
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<td class="tdl2">Photograph by Underwood & Underwood</td>
<td class="tdr"> </td>
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<td class="tdl">A Tank bringing in a Captured German Gun under Protection
of Camouflage</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#imagep112">112</SPAN></td>
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<td class="tdl2">Photograph by Underwood & Underwood</td>
<td class="tdr"> </td>
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<td class="tdl">A British Tank in the Liberty Loan Parade in New York</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#imagep124">124</SPAN></td>
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<td class="tdl2">Photograph by Underwood & Underwood</td>
<td class="tdr"> </td>
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</table></div>
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<SPAN name="I" id="I"></SPAN><hr />
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</SPAN></span><br/>
<h1>LIFE IN A TANK</h1>
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<h2>I</h2>
<h3>THE MEANING OF THE TANK CORPS<span class="totoc"><SPAN href="#toc">ToC</SPAN></span></h3>
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<p>TANKS!</p>
<p>To the uninitiated—as were we in those days when we returned to the
Somme, too late to see the tanks make their first dramatic
entrance—the name conjures up a picture of an iron monster, breathing
fire and exhaling bullets and shells, hurling itself against the
enemy, unassailable by man and impervious to the most deadly engines
of war; sublime, indeed, in its expression of indomitable power and
resolution.</p>
<p>This picture was one of the two factors which attracted us toward the
Heavy Branch Machine-Gun Corps—as the Tank Corps was known in the
first year of its being. On the Somme we had seen a derelict tank,
wrecked, despoiled of her guns, and forsaken in No <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</SPAN></span>Man's Land. We had
swarmed around and over her, wild with curiosity, much as the
Lilliputians must have swarmed around the prostrate Gulliver. Our
imagination was fired.</p>
<p>The second factor was, frankly, that we were tired of going over the
top as infantrymen. The first time that a man goes into an attack, he
as a rule enjoys it. He has no conception of its horrors,—no, not
horrors, for war possesses no horrors,—but, rather, he has no
knowledge of the sudden realization of the sweetness of life that
comes to a man when he is "up against it." The first time, it is a
splendid, ennobling novelty. And as for the "show" itself, in actual
practice it is more like a dream which only clarifies several days
later, after it is all over. But to do the same thing a second and
third and fourth time, is to bring a man face to face with Death in
its fullest and most realistic uncertainty. In soldier jargon he "gets
most awful wind up." It is five minutes before "Zero Hour." All
preparations are complete. You are waiting for the signal to hop over
the parapet. Very probably the Boche knows that you are <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</SPAN></span>coming, and
is already skimming the sandbags with his machine guns and knocking
little pieces of earth and stone into your face. Extraordinary, how
maddening is the sting of these harmless little pebbles and bits of
dirt! The bullets ricochet away with a peculiar singing hiss, or crack
overhead when they go too high. The shells which burst on the other
side of the parapet shake the ground with a dull thud and crash. There
are two minutes to wait before going over. Then is the time when a man
feels a sinking sensation in his stomach; when his hands tremble ever
so slightly, and when he offers up a pathetic little prayer to God
that if he's a bit of a sportsman he may be spared from death, should
his getting through not violate the divine and fatalistic plans. He
has that unpleasant lack of knowledge of what comes beyond. For after
all, with the most intense belief in the world, it is hard to
reconcile the comforting feeling of what one knows with that terrible
dread of the unknown.</p>
<p>A man has no great and glorious ideas that nothing matters because he
is ready to die for <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</SPAN></span>his country. He is, of course, ready to die for
her. But he does not think about it. He lights a cigarette and tries
to be nonchalant, for he knows that his men are watching him, and it
is his duty to keep up a front for their sake. Probably, at the same
time, they are keeping up a front for him. Then the Sergeant Major
comes along, cool and smiling, as if he were out for a stroll at home.
Suddenly he is an immense comfort. One forgets that sinking feeling in
the stomach and thinks, "How easy and jolly he is! What a splendid
fellow!" Immediately, one begins unconsciously to imitate him. Then
another thinks the same thing about one, and begins to imitate too. So
it passes on, down the line. But there is nothing heroic or exalting
in going over the top.</p>
<p>This, then, was our possible second reason for preferring to attack
inside bullet-proof steel; not that death is less likely in a tank,
but there seems to be a more sporting chance with a shell than with a
bullet. The enemy infantryman looks along his sight and he has you for
a certainty, but the gunner cannot be so accurate <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</SPAN></span>and twenty yards
may mean a world of difference. Above all, the new monster had our
imaginations in thrall. Here were novelty and wonderful developments.</p>
<p>In the end of 1916, therefore, a certain number of officers and men
received their orders to join the H.B.M.G.C., and proceeded
sorrowfully and joyfully away from the trenches. Sorrowfully, because
it is a poor thing to leave your men and your friends in danger, and
get out of it yourself into something new and fresh; joyfully, because
one is, after all, but human.</p>
<p>About thirty miles behind the line some villages were set aside for
the housing and training of the new units. Each unit had a nucleus of
men who had already served in tanks, with the new arrivals spread
around to make up to strength.</p>
<p>The new arrivals came from all branches of the Service; Infantry,
Sappers, Gunners, Cavalry, and the Army Service Corps. Each man was
very proud of his own Branch; and a wonderfully healthy rivalry and
affection <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</SPAN></span>sprang up between them. The gunner twitted the sapper, the
cavalryman made jokes at the A.S.C., and the infantryman groused at
the whole lot. But all knew at the bottom of their hearts, how each is
essential to the other.</p>
<p>It was to be expected when all these varied men came together, that
the inculcating of a proper <i>esprit de corps</i>—the training of each
individual in an entirely new science for the benefit of the
whole—would prove a very difficult and painstaking task. But the
wonderful development, however, in a few months, of a large,
heterogeneous collection of men into a solid, keen, self-sacrificing
unit, was but another instance of the way in which war improves the
character and temperament of man.</p>
<p>It was entirely new for men who were formerly in a regiment, full of
traditions, to find themselves in the Tank Corps. Here was a Corps,
the functions of which resulted from an idea born of the exigencies of
this science-demanding war. Unlike every other branch of the Service,
it has no regimental history to direct it, no traditions upon which to
build, and still <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</SPAN></span>more important from a practical point of view, no
experience from which to draw for guidance, either in training or in
action. In the Infantry, the attack has resulted from a steady
development in ideas and tactics, with past wars to give a foundation
and this present one to suggest changes and to bring about remedies
for the defects which crop up daily. With this new weapon, which was
launched on the Somme on September 15, 1916, the tactics had to be
decided upon with no realistic experimentation as ground work; and,
moreover, with the very difficult task of working in concert with
other arms of the Service that had had two years of fighting, from
which to learn wisdom.</p>
<p>With regard to discipline, too,—of all things the most important, for
the success of a battle has depended, does, and always will depend,
upon the state of discipline of the troops engaged,—all old regiments
have their staff of regular instructors to drill and teach recruits.
In them has grown up that certain feeling and loyalty which time and
past deeds have done so much to foster and cherish. Here were <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</SPAN></span>we,
lacking traditions, history, and experience of any kind.</p>
<p>It is easy to realize the responsibility that lay not only upon the
Chief of this new Corps, but upon each individual and lowest member
thereof. It was for us all to produce <i>esprit de corps</i>, and to
produce it quickly. It was necessary for us to develop a love of the
work, not because we felt it was worth while, but because we knew that
success or failure depended on each man's individual efforts.</p>
<p>But, naturally, the real impetus came from the top, and no admiration
or praise can be worthy of that small number of men in whose hands the
real destinies of this new formation lay; who were continually
devising new schemes and ideas for binding the whole together, and for
turning that whole into a highly efficient, up-to-date machine.</p>
<div class="fig">><SPAN name="imagep008" id="imagep008"></SPAN> <SPAN href="images/imagep008.jpg"> <ANTIMG border="0" src="images/imagep008.jpg" width-obs="85%" alt="King George and Queen Mary in France" /></SPAN><br/> <p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">KING GEORGE AND QUEEN MARY INSPECTING A TANK ON THE BRITISH FRONT IN FRANCE<span class="totoi"><SPAN href="#toi">ToList</SPAN></span></p>
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<p>"How did the tank happen to be invented?" is a common question. The
answer is that in past wars experience has made it an axiom that the
defenders suffer more casualties than the attacking forces. From the
first days of 1914, <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</SPAN></span>however, this condition was reversed, and whole
waves of attacking troops were mown down by two or three machine guns,
each manned, possibly, by not more than three men. There may be in a
certain sector, before an attack, an enormous preliminary bombardment
which is destined to knock out guns, observation posts, dumps, men,
and above all, machine-gun emplacements. Nevertheless, it has been
found in actual practice that despite the most careful observation and
equally careful study of aeroplane photographs, there are, as a rule,
just one or two machine guns which, either through bad luck or through
precautions on the part of the enemy, have escaped destruction. These
are the guns which inflict the damage when the infantrymen go over and
which may hold up a whole attack.</p>
<p>It was thought, therefore, that a machine might be devised which would
cross shell-craters, wire and trenches, and be at the same time
impervious to bullets, and which would contain a certain number of
guns to be used for knocking out such machine guns as were <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</SPAN></span>still in
use, or to lay low the enemy infantry. With this idea, a group of men,
in the end of 1915, devised the present type of heavy armoured car. In
order to keep the whole plan as secret as possible, about twenty-five
square miles of ground in Great Britain were set aside and surrounded
with armed guards. There, through all the spring and early summer of
1916, the work was carried on, without the slightest hint of its
existence reaching the outside world. Then, one night, the tanks were
loaded up and shipped over to France, to make that first sensational
appearance on the Somme, with the success which warranted their
further production on a larger and more ambitious scale.</p>
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<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</SPAN></span><br/>
<h2>II</h2>
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