Cold Open

It’s just before 7:30 A.M. on July 1st, 1916, in Picardy, northern France.

British Army Private Maurice Symes stands in a trench, gripping his rifle, shoulder to shoulder with the men of his regiment.

For the past 18 months, soldiers like Symes have endured life in the trenches, waiting for the big advance that will change the course of the war. This morning, that moment has finally come. And any second now, Symes and his comrades will go “over the top,” part of an enormous British assault that the Germans will be unable to withstand.

The British guns fall silent for the first time in a week. The enormous bombardment should have destroyed the German defenses. And now, it should be a simple matter to advance and seize the enemy positions.

At the signal, the soldiers scramble up ladders and over the trench parapet. Private Symes waits his turn. Then he climbs up the rungs and marches forward into the strange, pockmarked landscape known as no-man’s land. Remembering his orders, he advances at a walk, keeping in line with the rest of his regiment.

But he’s only taken a few steps before a German machine gun opens fire. The men on either side of him are hit almost immediately. Both fall backward, knocked off their feet. But Symes somehow escapes untouched.

So he picks up the pace. This clearly isn’t going to be the straightforward attack his superiors promised—the huge bombardment hasn’t worked.

Another machine gun opens up. Its fire sweeps across the advancing British soldiers—and this time, Symes can’t avoid the hail of bullets.

He’s hit in the stomach and stumbles. It feels like he’s been kicked by a horse.

Symes drops his rifle and staggers to his knees. He spots a shell crater ahead and crawls toward it, pulling himself through the mud. Rolling into the hole, he slides down the side into the filthy water at the bottom. For now, the crater shields him from the deadly German machine-gun fire. But it also leaves him stranded in the middle of no-man’s land, wounded and alone, while the battle rages around him.

Although Private Maurice Symes is seriously injured, he is one of the lucky ones. He will survive the catastrophic first day of the Battle of the Somme, while nearly 20,000 other British soldiers will die and many more will be wounded.

But the battle is just beginning. And over the next four months, hundreds of thousands of men will lose their lives with little to show for their sacrifice. So eventually, in an attempt to break the stalemate, the British Army will unleash a new weapon in the trenches of the Western Front, and the tank will make its first appearance on the battlefield on September 15th, 1916.

Introduction

From Noiser and Airship, I’m Lindsay Graham, and this is History Daily.

History is made every day. On this podcast—every day—we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is September 15th, 1916: The Tank’s Battlefield Debut.

Act One: Building the first tank

It’s December 15th in Burton Park in Lincoln, England, seven months before the Battle of the Somme.

37-year-old Lieutenant Albert Stern stands back as engineers pull away a canvas sheet to reveal an unusual-looking machine—an enormous steel box mounted on caterpillar tracks. Around 19 feet long and over 8 feet tall, this contraption weighs more than 16 tons. And according to the engineers who’ve developed it, this strange vehicle might just be the weapon to break the stalemate on the Western Front.

A year and a half ago, war broke out in Europe—but despite widespread hopes that it would be “over by Christmas,” this conflict quickly reached an impasse. Both sides are now dug into defensive positions that stretch from the English Channel to Switzerland. Neither has been able to break through. So, the British government decided to commission a new kind of weapon—one that can cross trenches, smash through barbed wire, and shield advancing soldiers from enemy fire. The solution they’ve chosen is the “landship,” and today, Lieutenant Stern has come to Lincoln to inspect progress.

The metal vehicle that’s just been unveiled is the latest prototype. Engineers want to see whether the landship can navigate a simulated battlefield. So the pristine grass of Burton Park has been dug up and replaced with a miniature version of the Western Front, complete with trenches, slopes, obstacles, and craters.

And at a signal, the landship’s engine sputters to life. The driver guides the cumbersome machine forward. It copes with the gradient and maneuvers around a tree. But that’s the easy part.

The landship needs to cross a trench next. But as soon as the tracked wheels go over the five-foot-wide void, the vehicle’s nose tilts forward and hits the far side of the trench with a crash. The driver tries to back out, but it’s no use. The landship sits at an angle, its rear pointing into the air. And as the engine roars, the tracks slide helplessly across the grass without gaining any grip. Eventually, the driver shuts off the engine and climbs out of the hatch, shaking his head.

It’s a disappointing result. But the engineers don’t abandon the landship concept. Instead, they go back to the drawing board and rethink its method of propulsion. Rather than using short tracks positioned along the bottom of the vehicle, their next prototype has rhomboid-shaped tracks that cover the whole side. These longer tracks, combined with a lower center of gravity, should prevent the second model from tipping over into trenches so easily.

In early 1916, the new prototype is ready for the mock battlefield in Burton Park. It makes light work of parapets, trenches, shell craters, and barbed wire fences. So, it is packed up and taken south to a country estate outside London, where it can demonstrate its capabilities to the top brass of the British Army.

These generals are impressed and quickly place an order for dozens of the new machines. But as production gets underway, army officials begin to worry that German spies will hear rumors about this new invention. So, they come up with a cover story. The landships are given the mundane code name “tanks,” implying that they are little more than mobile water carriers. It’s hoped that this deception will buy the British the time they need to deploy the wonder weapon on the battlefield. But the name sticks.

And for General Douglas Haig, these new tanks cannot arrive soon enough. He’s the commander-in-chief of British forces on the Western Front. And he intends to launch a new offensive in the area around the Somme River, where British and German armies have been locked in position for months.

So, tank production is made a priority by the British government, but the new weapon still isn’t ready for the start of the Battle of the Somme in July 1916. And without it, the first attack goes disastrously. A week-long artillery bombardment does little damage to German defenses, and British soldiers sent over the top are cut down in a hail of machine gun fire.

Over the next few weeks, General Haig will authorize more assaults to across no-man’s land—but none will make a decisive breakthrough. And as tens of thousands of men die, the need for a new weapon to break the stalemate will only become more pressing. Meaning the arrival of the British Army’s tanks can’t come soon enough.

Act Two: Tanks at Flers

It’s 5:15 A.M. on September 15th, 1916, near Delville Wood in northern France, seven months after the British Army’s first tank tests.

23-year-old Captain Harold Mortimore opens the heavy hatch of a Mark I tank named Daredevil. He climbs inside and takes his position beside the driver’s seat. Seven more men squeeze in behind him. There’s barely enough room to move, but each crew member has a specific job to do—steering the tank, operating its gears, and firing its guns. They have been training together for weeks, all for this moment—the first time a tank will see real action on the battlefield.

Since the successful demonstration earlier this year, the British Army has spent months assembling dozens of tanks and training the crews needed to operate them. When enough machines and soldiers were ready, they were shipped across the English Channel and brought to the Somme. Now, they are ready to support General Douglas Haig’s latest offensive—a mass infantry attack on German trenches near the villages of Flers and Courcelette.

As dawn breaks, Captain Mortimore’s crew cranks the engine to life. Inside Daredevil, the noise is deafening. Exhaust fumes fill the cramped compartment, and the steel walls vibrate violently. Mortimore looks through the narrow viewing slit. It gives him a restricted and constantly shaking perspective on the battlefield. Still, he can just about see enough. The way is clear, so he gives the order to move forward.

Then, Daredevil rumbles toward the enemy lines. First, the tank has to cross the maze of British trenches. Its tracks clatter over the earth, and the enormous machine pitches and rolls as it moves. Then, it slowly makes its way through the craters and shell holes of no-man’s land.

Finally, it reaches the German trenches, rolling straight over the barbed wire fences as if they weren’t there. Captain Mortimore guides the tank toward a machine gun nest. Through the viewing slit, Mortimore spots the petrified German gunners running away. They’re not even attempting to fight this new weapon that’s suddenly appeared before them.

So Daredevil rolls on, crushing its way through the German defenses. But after straddling a trench, the tank suddenly shudders. It’s been hit by a shell—but with limited visibility, Mortimore can’t tell where it came from.

The engine roars as the driver tries to move forward, but the tank doesn’t respond—and if Daredevil can’t move, it's a sitting duck for German artillery. So, Mortimore orders the crew to abandon the tank, and they hurriedly climb out of the hatch. One or two are limping, but the eight men help each other back across no-man’s land. And although the occasional bullet whistles overhead and shells land nearby, the tank crew makes it back safely to British lines.

At the end of the day, commanders take stock. The British have captured the villages of Flers and Courcelette—but at most, they’ve only moved the front lines forward around two miles. This spectacular breakthrough promised by the tanks’ creators has not come to pass.

Because this new wonder weapon isn’t very reliable.

Of the 49 tanks earmarked for the attack, only 32 were operational that morning. And of those, just 18 reached the German lines without breaking down or getting stuck.

So stretched out along a 12-mile-wide front, these tanks had limited impact. One even did more harm than good. A tank commander mistakenly ordered his machine to stop before he reached no-man’s land and opened fire on British trenches. He only realized his mistake when a British colonel risked his life by climbing on the tank and banging on its side, shouting at the soldiers inside to cease fire.

And these aren’t just teething problems. The technical issues with the new tanks continue week after week. And as fall turns to winter, the tanks become even less useful. Rain and snow transform no-man’s land into a quagmire of mud and flooded shell craters. Soldiers on foot struggle to make any progress—the chance of a tank reaching German lines without becoming bogged down falls to almost zero.

So with no breakthrough in sight, in November 1916, General Haig finally calls an end to the Somme offensive.

Over the course of four and a half months, British and French forces have only advanced a few miles, at the cost of over 600,000 casualties. It seems even tanks can’t break the brutal, bloody deadlock on the Western Front.

But the British will keep faith in their new invention, and they’ll keep improving the design and refining the tactics they use. So that a year later, the battle tank will finally deliver on its promise.

Act Three: The Battle of Cambrai

It’s November 20th, 1917, outside the town of Cambrai in northern France, a year after the Battle of the Somme.

Second Lieutenant Albert Baker peers through the viewing slit of his Mark IV tank, Gorgonzola II. Around him, dozens of other tanks advance through smoke and mist. Baker directs his driver through the maze of craters and shell holes ahead. Then, through the haze, he spots a target—a concealed German field gun that’s firing on the advancing tanks. He calls out to his men, and Gorgonzola II changes course.

Even though tanks failed to achieve a breakthrough at the Battle of the Somme, General Douglas Haig remained convinced that they would transform warfare. He encouraged the British government to develop better machines, and this new Mark IV tank reflects the hard lessons learned a year ago. It features stronger armor and a more reliable engine. But just as importantly, British commanders have devised better ways to deploy tanks in battle. Instead of scattering the machines along a wide front, the generals have realized that tanks are far more effective in concentrated attacks—and today, Gorgonzola II is one of nearly 400 tanks that have been gathered for a mass assault on the German lines.

And as it rumbles toward the German field gun, enemy soldiers fire at the approaching tank with their rifles, but the bullets ricochet harmlessly off the thick metal armor. And as Gorgonzola II closes in and opens fire with its six-pound gun, the Germans scramble from their positions and run for cover.

Inside, Lieutenant Baker orders the driver to stop. Then, he opens the hatch and jumps out. Working quickly, he attaches a tow line to the German gun and climbs back inside. Within moments, Gorgonzola II is moving off, dragging the captured gun behind it.

Across the battlefield, other tanks achieve similar successes—rolling through barbed wire, crossing trenches, and capturing machine gun nests. With the support of artillery and infantry, these tanks have punched a hole through some of the enemy’s most formidable fortifications. British troops can now advance unimpeded, and in a single day they capture almost five miles of enemy territory—as much ground as they did during the months of fighting at the Somme.

The Germans will eventually regroup and counterattack. But the Battle of Cambrai has proved that tanks can help break through even the toughest German defenses. And from that moment on, their importance on the battlefield will only grow.

In the years to come, engineers and designers will develop faster, more maneuverable, and more powerful tanks. Decades later, during World War Two, they won’t just overcome trenches and barbed wire. They’ll support a new, fast-moving form of warfare that will see armies advance hundreds of miles in a matter of weeks—a type of rapid offensive that seemed almost impossible before the first tanks were deployed on September 15th, 1916.

Outro

Next, on History Daily. September 16th, 1920. Thirty people are killed and more than 400 injured when a horse-drawn wagon explodes in the middle of New York’s Wall Street.

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Muhammad Shahzaib.

Sound design by Mollie Baack.

Music by Thrumm.

This episode is written and researched by Ruben Abrahams Brosbe.

Edited by Scott Reeves.

Managing producer Emily Burke.

Executive Producers are William Simpson for Airship and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.