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Updated: May 1, 2025
After arriving I went with a bombing sergeant of the Black Watch to have a look at the Brigade Dump, which was a good way from B.H.Q. You got at it by walking across country to the west end of High Wood, and then along a trench tramway till it ended rather abruptly at the Flers Switch. Like most dumps, it was at the end of the tramway and none too healthy a spot.
In the mess the fights were reconstructed. Sudden silences were frequent an unspoken tribute to C. and the other casualties. But at lunch-time we were cheered by the news that the first and second objectives had been reached, that Martinpuich, Courcelette, and Flers had fallen, and that the Tanks had behaved well. After lunch I rested awhile before the long reconnaissance, due to start at three.
We found the place a little way from Flers, a church and a few houses, called distinctively La Lande-patry, as distinguished from a neighbouring village called by some such name as La Fontaine de Patry. The church is not quite wholly new, though it is mostly so; but there is nothing that could have been built or looked on by any one who received Harold.
Stretching away towards Flers, there is a tract of green country all ups and downs, but with no distant views except the peep of Domfront that appears a few miles north of the town.
Now they were nothing but useless piles of brick and glorious names Thiepval, Pozières, La Boiselle, Guillemont, Flers, Hardecourt, Guinchy, Combles, Bouchavesnes, and a dozen others. Of all the crumbled roads the most striking was the long, straight one joining Albert and Bapaume. It looked fairly regular for the most part, except where the trenches cut it.
One great object in the parts of Mortain is to see the historic site of Tinchebray, so closely connected with Mortain in its history, though the two places are, and seem always to have been, in different divisions, ecclesiastical and civil. We debate whether Tinchebray can be best got at from Mortain, Vire, or Flers.
The town, as distinguished from castle and church, has little or nothing to show; like Flers, it has risen to some modern importance through manufactures.
Leading the way, these monsters waddled through the village, shattering barricades, crushing their way through masonry and creating general alarm among the German troops, who saw these formidable war engines for the first time. In the capture of Courcelette, Flers, and Martinpuich the British air service successfully cooperated with the movements of the artillery and infantry.
The corps buses kept constant communication between attacking battalions and the rear. A machine first reported the exploit of the immortal Tank that waddled down High Street, Flers, spitting bullets and inspiring sick fear. And there were many free-lance stunts, such as Lewis gun attacks on reserve troops or on trains.
The crowned King had no need to fear the momentary King-elect of forty years before. We only wish to know whether he did himself live to so preternatural an age as to be a pensioner of Henry II., or whether he who bears his name in the accounts of that reign is a son of whom history has no tale to tell. We go back from Tinchebray to Flers. Next day the main line takes us to Argentan.
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