"There is one thing more. My old regiment, the Royal West Kents, has been here since the beginning of the war, and it has never lost a trench. The Army says, 'The West Kents never budge.' I am proud of the great record of my old regiment. And I think it is a good omen. I now belong to you and you belong to me; and before long the Army will say: 'The Canadians never budge.' Lads, it can be left there, and there I leave it. The Germans will never turn you out."
I may, before concluding the present chapter, point out that the most severe military critics, both in England and in France, are loud in their admiration of the organising power which, in a non-military country, has produced so fine a force in so short a time. In equipment, in all the countless details which in co-ordination mean efficiency, the Division holds its own with any division at the war. This result was only made possible by labour, zeal, and immense driving power, and these qualities were exhibited in Canada at the outbreak of war by all those whose duties lay in the work of improvisation.
Canadians' valuable help—A ride in the dark—Pictures on the road—Towards the enemy—At the cross-roads—"Six kilometres to Neuve Chapelle"—Terrific bombardment—Grandmotherly howitzers—British aeroplanes—Fight with a Taube—Flying man's coolness—Attack on the village—German prisoners—A banker from Frankfort—The Indians' pride—A halt to our hopes—Object of Neuve Chapelle—What we achieved—German defences under-rated—Machine gun citadels—Great infantry attack—Unfortunate delays—Sir John French's comments—British attack exhausted—Failure to capture Aubers Ridge—"Digging in"—Canadian Division's baptism of fire—"Casualties"—Trenches on Ypres salient.
"The glory dies not, and the grief is past."—BRYDGES.
"During the battle of Neuve Chapelle the Canadians held a part of the line allotted to the First Army, and, although they were not actually engaged in the main attack, they rendered valuable help by keeping the enemy actively employed in front of their trenches."—Sir John French's Despatch on the Battle of Neuve Chapelle, which began on March10th, 1915.
It was night when I left the Canadian Divisional Headquarters and motored in a southerly direction towards Neuve Chapelle. It was the eve of the great attack, and in the bright space of light cast by the motor lamps along the road, there came a kaleidoscopic picture of tramping men.
Here at the front there is no need of police restrictions on motor headlights at night as there is in London and on English country roads. The law under which you place yourself is the range of the enemy's guns. Beyond that limit you are free to turn your headlights on, and there is no danger. But, once within the range of rifle fire or shell, you turn your lights on at the peril of your own life. So you go in darkness.
As we rode along with lamps lit, thousands of khaki-clad men were marching along that road—marching steadily in the direction of Neuve Chapelle. The endless stream of their faces flashed along the edge of thepavéin the light of our lamps. Their ranked figures, dim one moment in the darkness, sprang for an instant into clear outline as the light silhouetted them against the background of the night. Then they passed out of the light again and became once more a legion of shadows, marching towards dawn and Neuve Chapelle. The tramp of battalion after battalion was not, however, the tramp of a shadow army, but the firm, relentless, indomitable step of armed and trained men.
Every now and then there came a cry of "Halt," and the columns came on the instant to a stand. Minutes passed, and the command for the advance rang out. The columns moved again. So it went on—halt—march—halt—march—hour by hour through the night along that congested road—a river of men and guns.
For while in one direction men were marching, in the other direction came batteries of guns, bound by another route for their position in front of Neuve Chapelle. The two streams passed one another—legions of men and rumbling, clattering lines of artillery, all moving under screen of the dark, towards the line of trenches where the enemy lay.
This was no time to risk a block in traffic, and my motor, swerving off the paved centre of the road, sank to her axles in the quagmire of thick, sticky mud at the side. The guns passed, and we sought to regain the paved way again, but our wheels spun round, merely churning dirt. We could not move out of that pasty Flemish mud, until a Canadian ambulance wagon came to our aid. The unhitched horses were made fast to the motor, and they heaved the car out of her clinging bed.
In the early morning I came to the cross roads. The signpost planted at the crossing and pointing down the road to the south-east bore the inscription "Six kilometres to Neuve Chapelle."
This was the road that the legions had taken. It led almost in a straight line to the trenches that were to be stormed, to the village behind them that was to be captured, and to the town of La Bassée, a few kilometres further on, strongly held by the Germans.
"Six kilometres to Neuve Chapelle "—barely four miles; one hour's easy walking, let us say, on such a clear, fresh morning; or five minutes in a touring car if the time had been peace. But who knew how many hours of bloody struggle would now be needed to cover that short level stretch of "Six kilometres to Neuve Chapelle"! Between this signpost and the village towards which it pointed the way, many thousands of armed men—sons of the Empire—had come from Britain, from India, from all parts of the Dominions Overseas, to take their share in driving the wedge down to the end of this six kilometres of country road, and through the heart of the German lines. Here for a moment they paused. What hopes, what fears, what joys, what sorrows, triumphs and tragedies were suggested by that austere signpost, pointing "like Death's lean-lifted forefinger" down that little stretch of road marked "Six kilometres to Neuve Chapelle"!
I went on foot part of the way here, for so many battalions of men were massed that motor traffic was impossible. These were troops held in reserve. Those selected for the initial infantry attack were already in the trenches ahead right and left of the further end of the road, waiting on the moment of the advance.
I had just passed the signpost when the comparative peace of morning was awfully shattered by the united roar and crash of hundreds of guns.
This broke out precisely at half-past seven. The exact moment had been fixed beforehand for the beginning of a cannonade more concentrated and more terrific than any previous cannonade in the history of the world. It continued with extraordinary violence for half-an-hour, all calibres of guns taking part in it. Some of the grandmotherly British howitzers hurled their enormously destructive shells into the German lines, on which a hurricane of shrapnel was descending from a host of smaller guns. The German guns and trenches offered little or no reply, for the enemy were cowering for shelter from that storm.
I turned towards the left and watched for awhile the good part which the Canadian Artillery played in that attack. The Canadian Division, which was a little further north than Neuve Chapelle, waited in its trenches, hoping always for the order to advance.
Then I passed down the road until I came to a minor crossways where a famous general stood in the midst of his Staff. Motor despatch riders dashed up the road, bringing him news of the progress of the bombardment. The news was good. The General awaited the moment when the cannonade should cease, as suddenly as it had begun, and he should unleash his troops.
Indian infantry marched down the road and saluted the General as they passed. He returned the salute and cried to the officer at the head of the column, "Good luck." The officer was an Indian, who, with a smile, replied in true Oriental fashion: "Our Division has doubled in strength, General-Sahib, since it has seen you."
While the bombardment continued, British aeroplanes sailed overhead and crossed over to the German lines. The Germans promptly turned some guns on them. We saw white ball-puffs of smoke as the shrapnel shells burst in front, behind, above, below, and everywhere around the machines, but never near enough to hit. They hovered like eagles above the din of the battle, surveying and reckoning the damage which our guns inflicted, and reporting progress.
Map--Line occupied by British in March 1915Map—Line occupied by British in March 1915
Once a German Taube rose in the air and lunged towards the British lines. Then began a struggle for the mastery, which goes to the machine which can mount highest and fire down upon its enemy. The Taube ringed upwards. A couple of British aeroplanes circled after it. To and fro and round and round they went, until the end came. The British machines secured the upper air, and soon we saw that the Taube was done. Probably the pilot had been wounded. The machine drooped and swooped uneasily till, like a wounded bird, it streaked down headlong far in the distance.
I walked over to where a British aeroplane was about to start on a flight. The young officer of the Royal Flying Corps in charge was as cool as though he were taking a run in a motor-car at home. "As a matter of fact," he said, "I wanted change and rest. I had spent five months in the trenches, and was worn out and tired by the everlasting monotony and drudgery of it all. So I applied for a job in the Flying Corps. It soothes one's nerves to be up in the air for a bit after living down in the mud for so long."
I watched him soar up into the morning sky and saw numerous shrapnel bursts chasing him as he sailed about over the German lines. What a quiet, easy-going holiday was this, dodging about in the air, a clear mark for the enemy's guns! But, to tell the truth, the British flying men and machines are very rarely hit. Flying in war-time is not so perilous as it looks, though it needs much skill and a calm, collected spirit.
At length the din of the gunfire ceased, and we knew that the British troops were rushing from their trenches to deal with the Germans, whose nerve the guns had shaken. Astounded as they had been by our artillery fire, the Germans were still more amazed by the rapidity of the infantry attack. The British soldiers and the Indians swept in upon them instantly till large numbers threw down their weapons, scrambled out of their trenches, and knelt, hands up, in token of surrender.
The fight swept on far beyond the German trenches, through the village, and beyond that again. The big guns occasionally joined in, and the chatter of the machine-guns rose and broke off. Now the motor ambulances began to come back—up that road down which the finger pointed to Neuve Chapelle. They lurched past us as we stood by the signpost in an intermittent stream, bearing the wounded men from the fight.
Presently the cheerful sight of German prisoners alternated with the saddening procession of ambulances. Large squads of prisoners went by, many hatless and with dirt-smeared faces, their uniforms looking as though dipped in mustard, the effect of the bursting of the British lyddite shells among them in their trenches. The dejection of defeat was on their faces.
Some of them were halted and were questioned by the General. One man turned out to be a Frankfort banker, whose chief concern later was what would become of his money, which he said had been taken charge of by some of his captors. He was also anxious to know where he would be imprisoned, and seemed relieved, if not delighted, when he heard that it would be in England.
Another prisoner had been a hairdresser in Dresden. The General questioned him, and he gave an entertaining account of his experiences as a soldier.
"I am a Landwehr man," he said. "I was in Germany when I was ordered to entrain. Presently the train drew up and I was ordered to get out, and was told I had to go and attack a place called Neuve Chapelle. So I went on with others, and soon we came into a hell of fire, and we ran onwards and got into a trench, and there the hell was worse than ever. We began to fire our rifles. Suddenly I heard shouting behind me, and looked round and saw a large number of Indians between me and the rest of the German Army. I then looked at the other German soldiers in the trench and saw that they were throwing their rifles out of the trench. Well, I am a good German, but I did not want to be peculiar, so I threw my rifle out also, and then I was taken prisoner and brought here. Although I have not been long at the war, I have had enough of it. I never saw daylight in the battlefield until I was a prisoner."
Some of the prisoners were brought along by the Indian troops who had captured them. They complained bitterly that they, Germans, should be marched about in the custody of Indians! They did not understand the grimly humorous reply: "If the Indians are good enough to take you, they are good enough to keep you."
The Indians smiled with delight, for they are particularly fond of making prisoners of Germans. Most of them brought back their little trophies of the fight, which they held out for inspection with a smile, crying, "Souvenir!"
The stream of prisoners and of wounded passed on. The fury of battle relaxed. Now and then some of the guns still crashed, but the machine guns rattled further and further away, and the crackle of the rifle fire came from a distance.
The British Army had traversed in triumph those "six kilometres to Neuve Chapelle."
At Neuve Chapelle it halted, and there halted, too, the hopes of an early and conclusive victory for the Allied forces.
The enemy's outposts had been driven in, but beyond these, their fortified places bristled with machine guns, which wrought havoc on our troops, and, indeed, brought the successful offensive to a close. Controversy has arisen over the disappointing results which were achieved. For a month after the battle, Neuve Chapelle was heralded by the public as a great British victory. But doubt followed confidence, and in a few weeks the "victory" was described as a failure. The truth lies between these extremes.
The object of this battle of Neuve Chapelle was to give our men a new spirit of offensive and to test the British fighting machine which had been built up with so much difficulty on the Western front. Besides, if this attack succeeded in destroying the German lines, it would be possible to gain the Aubers ridge which dominates Lille. That ridge once firmly held in our hands, the city should have been ours. That would have been a great victory. It would probably have meant the end of the German occupation of this part of France. In any case it must have had a marked effect upon the whole progress of the war.[1]
That was what we hoped to do. What we actually accomplished was the winning of about a mile of territory along a three-mile front, and the straightening of our line. The price was too high for the result.
It was the first great effort ever made by the British to pierce the German line since it had been established after the open field battles of the Marne and the Aisne. The British troops had faced the German lines for months, and while the fundamental principles of the German defences were fairly well understood, their real strength was very much underrated.
Things went badly from the beginning of the action. The artillery "preparation" represented quite the most formidable bombardment the British had so far made, but even so, it was ineffective along certain sections of the line. After the way had been paved by shrapnel and high explosive, the British infantry moved forward in a splendid offensive to secure what everyone believed would be a decisive victory; and trained observers of the battle were under the impression that the gallant British infantry had won their end. This is an impression, too, which was shared by some of the men for a time.
For many months the British had been almost entirely on the defensive, and over and over again been called on to repulse heavy, massed German attacks. The casualties sustained in repulsing these attacks first revealed our shortage of machine-guns. What they lacked in machine-guns, however, the British troops made up for in a deadly accuracy of rifle fire, which was at once the terror and the admiration of the Germans. The British had thus come to an exaggerated idea of the efficacy of rifle fire, and a consequent over-estimate of the importance of the German first line trenches. Over these they swarmed, and the word went forth that the day was won.
It was only when the British troops had occupied the enemy's first and second line trenches, they discovered that, in actual fact, they had not done more than drive in the outposts of an army. Close at hand, the Germans' third line loomed up like a succession of closely interlocked citadels. Nay, more, those citadels were so constructed that the trenches from which our men had ousted the enemy with so much heroism and loss were deathtraps for the new tenants. The circumstances were such that to retire meant acknowledgment of failure, and to hang on, a grisly slaughter.
Even so, there were features of the situation which made for hope. There were positions to be won which would very seriously jeopardise the whole German scheme of defence; but, at the critical moment of the battle, the advanced troops seem to have passed beyond the control of the various commanders in the rear on account of the misty weather.
The real tragedy, however, was the non-arrival of the supports at a point and at a time when the appearance of reserves might have made all the difference to the fortunes of the day. The enemy was still bewildered and demoralised, and, but for the delay, might have been completely routed. Unfortunately, the British front was in great need of straightening out. The 23rd Brigade continued to hang up the 8th Division, while the 25th Brigade was fighting along a portion of the front where it was not supposed to be at all. Units had to be disentangled and the whole line straightened before further advance could be made.
The fatal result was a delay which, Sir John French says, would never have occurred had the "clearly expressed orders of the General Officer commanding the 1st Army been more carefully observed."
Sir Douglas Haig himself hurried up to set things right, but it was then too late to retrieve the failure which had been occasioned by delay. The attack was thoroughly exhausted, its sting was gone, and the enemy had pulled himself together. Night was falling, and there was nothing to be done but "dig in" beneath the ridge above Lille, the capture of which would have altered the whole story of the campaign on the Western front.
As I have said, the Canadian infantry took no part in the battle, though the troops waited impatiently and expectantly for the order to advance, but the activity of the Canadian artillery was considerable and important. The Canadian guns took their full share in the "preparation" for the subsequent British infantry attack, and the observation work of our gunners was good and continuous.
After Neuve Chapelle, quiet reigned along the Canadian trenches, though the battle raged to the north of us at St. Eloi, and the Princess Patricia's Battalion was involved. Early in the last days of March our troops were withdrawn and retired to rest camps.
The Canadians had received their baptism of fire, and in extremely favourable circumstances. They had not been called on to make any desperate attacks on the German lines. Nor had the Germans launched any violent assaults upon theirs. The infantry had sustained a few casualties, but that was all; while German artillery practice against our trenches had been curtailed on account of the violent fighting both to the south and the north.
On the other hand, we had been surrounded by all the circumstances of great battles. We had watched the passage of the giant guns, of which the British made use for the first time at Neuve Chapelle, and we had moved and lived and stood to arms amid all the stir and accessories of vehement war. The guns had boomed their deadly message in our ears, we had seen death in many forms, and understood to the full the meaning of "Casualties," while, day by day, the aeroplanes wheeled and circled overhead, passing and re-passing to the enemy's lines.
The Canadians had come to make war, and had dwelt in the midst of it, and after their turn in the trenches many of them, no doubt, accounted themselves war-worn veterans. Little they knew of the ordeals of the future. Little they dreamt, when towards the middle of the month of April they were sent to take over French trenches in the Ypres salient, that they were within a week of that terrible but wonderful battle which has consecrated this little corner of Flanders for Canadian generations yet unborn.
[1] The scheme of the attack on Neuve Chapelle had been worked out by General John Gough just before he was killed, and it was explained to his Corps Commanders by Sir John French on May 8th as follows:—The 1st Army was to launch the main assault, the 4th Corps being on the left flank and the Indian Corps on the right. To hold up the enemy all along the line, and to prevent his massing reinforcements to meet the main attack, two other supplementary attacks were also to be made—one attack by the 1st Corps from Givenchy, and the other by the 3rd Corps—detailed from the 2nd Army for that purpose—to the south of Armentières.
Canadians' glory—A civilian force—Ypres salient—Poelcappelle road—Disposition of troops—Gas attack on French—Plight of the 3rd Brigade—Filling the gap—General Turner's move—Loss of British guns—Canadian valour—St. Julien—Attack on the wood—Terrible fire—Officer casualties—Reinforcements—Geddes detachment—Second Canadian Brigade bent back—Desperate position—Terrible casualties—Col. Birchall's death—Magnificent artillery work—Canadian left saved—Canadians relieved—Story of 3rd Brigade—Gas attack on Canadians—Canadian recovery—Major Norsworthy killed—Major McCuaig's stand—Disaster averted—Col. Hart-McHarg killed—Major Odlum—General Alderson's efforts—British reinforce Canadians—3rd Brigade withdraws—General Currie stands fast—Trenches wiped out—Fresh gas attack—Germans take St. Julien—British cheer Canadians—Canadians relieved—Heroism of men—Col. Watson's dangerous mission—The Ghurkas' dead—Record of all units—Our graveyard in Flanders.
"If my neighbour fails, more devolves upon me."—WORDSWORTH.
"Gloucester, 'tis true that we are in great danger;The greater therefore should our courage be."—SHAKESPEARE.
The fighting in April, in which the Canadians played so glorious a part, cannot, of course, be described with precision of military detail until time has made possible the co-ordination of all the relevant diaries, and the piecing together in a narrative both lucid and exact of much which is confused and blurred.[1]
Map of Ypres and areaMap of Ypres and area
The battle which raged for so many days in the neighbourhood of Ypres was bloody, even as men appraise battles in this callous and life-engulfing war. But as long as brave deeds retain the power to fire the blood of Anglo-Saxons, the stand made by the Canadians in those desperate days will be told by fathers to their sons; for in the military records of Canada this defence will shine as brightly as, in the records of the British Army, the stubborn valour with which Sir James Macdonnel and the Guards beat back from Hougoumont the Division of Foy and the Army Corps of Reille.
The Canadians wrested from the trenches, over the bodies of the dead and maimed, the right to stand side by side with the superb troops who, in the first battle of Ypres, broke and drove before them the flower of the Prussian Guards.
Looked at from any point, the performance would be remarkable. It is amazing to soldiers, when the genesis and composition of the Canadian Division are considered. It contained, no doubt, a sprinkling of South African veterans, but it consisted in the main of men who were admirable raw material, but who at the outbreak of war were neither disciplined nor trained, as men count discipline and training in these days of scientific warfare.
It was, it is true, commanded by a distinguished English general. Its staff was supplemented, without being replaced, by some brilliant British staff officers. But in its higher and regimental commands were to be found lawyers, college professors, business men, and real estate agents, ready with cool self-confidence to do battle against an organisation in which the study of military science is the exclusive pursuit of laborious lives. With what devotion, with a valour how desperate, with resourcefulness how cool and how fruitful, the amateur soldiers of Canada confronted overwhelming odds may, perhaps, be made clear even by a narrative so incomplete as this.
The salient of Ypres has become familiar to all students of the campaign in Flanders. Like all salients, it was, and was known to be, a source of weakness to the forces holding it; but the reasons which have led to its retention are apparent, and need not be explained.
On April 22nd the Canadian Division held a line of, roughly, five thousand yards, extending in a north-westerly direction from the Ypres-Roulers railway to the Ypres-Poelcappelle road, and connecting at its terminus with the French troops.[2] The Division consisted of three infantry brigades, in addition to the artillery brigades. Of the infantry brigades the first was in reserve, the second was on the right, and the third established contact with the Allies at the point indicated above.
The day was a peaceful one, warm and sunny, and except that the previous day had witnessed a further bombardment of the stricken town of Ypres,[3] everything seemed quiet in front of the Canadian line. At five o'clock in the afternoon a plan, carefully prepared, was put into execution against our French allies on the left. Asphyxiating gas of great intensity was projected into their trenches, probably by means of force pumps and pipes laid out under the parapets.
The fumes, aided by a favourable wind, floated backwards, poisoning and disabling over an extended area those who fell under their effects. The result was that the French were compelled to give ground for a considerable distance.[4] The glory which the French Army has won in this war would make it impertinent to labour the compelling nature of the poisonous discharges under which the trenches were lost. The French did, as everyone knew they would, all that stout soldiers could, and the Canadian Division, officers and men, look forward to many occasions in the future in which they will stand side by side with the brave armies of France.
The immediate consequences of this enforced withdrawal were, of course, extremely grave. The 3rd Brigade of the Canadian Division was without any left, or, in other words, its left was "in the air." The following rough diagrams may make the position clear.
Map--Ypres--POSITION BEFORE DISCHARGE OF GASMap—Ypres—POSITION BEFORE DISCHARGE OF GAS
Contrast this with the diagram on the following page.
Map--Ypres--POSITION AFTER DISCHARGE OF GASMap—Ypres—POSITION AFTER DISCHARGE OF GAS
It became imperatively necessary greatly to extend the Canadian lines to the left rear. It was not, of course, practicable to move the 1st Brigade from reserve at a moment's notice, and the line, extended from 5,000 to 9,000 yards, was naturally not the line that had been held by the Allies at five o'clock, and a gap still existed on its left. The new line, of which our recent point of contact with the French formed the apex, ran, quite roughly, as follows:—
Map--Ypres--POSITION ON FRIDAY MORNINGMap—Ypres—POSITION ON FRIDAY MORNING
As shown above, it became necessary for Brigadier-general Turner (now Major-General), commanding the 3rd Brigade, to throw back his left flank southward, to protect his rear. In the course of the confusion which followed on the readjustment of the position, the enemy, who had advanced rapidly after his initial successes, took four British 4.7 guns, lent by the 2nd London Division to support the French, in a small wood to the west of the village of St. Julien, two miles in the rear of the original French trenches.
The story of the second battle of Ypres is the story of how the Canadian Division, enormously outnumbered—for they had in front of them at least four divisions, supported by immensely heavy artillery—with a gap still existing, though reduced, in their lines, and with dispositions made hurriedly under the stimulus of critical danger, fought through the day and through the night, and then through another day and night; fought under their officers: until, as happened to so many, these perished, gloriously, and then fought from the impulsion of sheer valour because they came from fighting stock.
The enemy, of course, was aware—whether fully or not may perhaps be doubted—of the advantage his breach in the line had given him, and immediately began to push a formidable series of attacks on the whole of the newly-formed Canadian salient. If it is possible to distinguish, when the attack was everywhere so fierce, it developed with particular intensity at this moment on the apex of the newly-formed line running in the direction of St. Julien.
It has already been stated that four British guns were taken in a wood comparatively early in the evening of April 22nd. The General Officer Commanding the Canadian Division had no intention of allowing the enemy to retain possession of either the wood or the guns without a desperate struggle, and he ordered a counter-attack towards the wood to be made by the 3rd Infantry Brigade under General Turner. This Brigade was then reinforced by the 2nd Battalion under Lieut.-Colonel (now Brigadier-General) Watson and the 3rd (Toronto) Battalion under Lieut.-Colonel Rennie (now also a Brigadier-General), both of the 1st Brigade. The 7th Battalion (British Columbia Regiment), from the 2nd Brigade, had by this time occupied entrenchments in support of the 3rd Brigade. The 10th Battalion of the 2nd Brigade, intercepted on its way up as a working party, was also placed in support of the 3rd Brigade.
The assault upon the wood was launched shortly after midnight of April 22nd-23rd by the 10th Battalion and 16th (Canadian Scottish) Battalion, respectively commanded by Lieut.-Colonel Boyle and Lieut.-Colonel (now Brigadier-General) R. G. E. Leckie. The advance was made under the heaviest machine gun and rifle fire, the wood was reached, and, after a desperate struggle by the light of a misty moon, they took the position at the point of the bayonet.
An officer who took part in the attack describes how the men about him fell under the fire of the machine guns, which, in his phrase, played upon them "like a watering pot." He added quite simply, "I wrote my own life off." But the line never wavered.
When one man fell another took his place, and, with a final shout, the survivors of the two Battalions flung themselves into the wood. The German garrison was completely demoralised, and the impetuous advance of the Canadians did not cease until they reached the far side of the wood and entrenched themselves there in the position so dearly gained. They had, however, the disappointment of finding that the guns had been destroyed by the enemy, and later in the same night, a most formidable concentration of artillery fire, sweeping the wood as a tropical storm sweeps the leaves from the trees of a forest, made it impossible for them to hold the position for which they had sacrificed so much.
Map--St. Julien and areaMap—St. Julien and area
Within a few hours of this attack, the 10th Canadian Battalion was again ordered to advance by Lieut.-Colonel Boyle, late a rancher in the neighbourhood of Calgary. The assault was made upon a German trench which was being hastily constructed within two hundred yards of the Battalion's right front. Machine gun and rifle fire opened upon the Battalion at the moment the charge was begun, and Colonel Boyle fell almost instantly with his left thigh pierced in five places. Major MacLaren, his second in command, was also wounded at this time. Battalion stretcher-bearers dressed the Colonel's wounds and carried him back to the Battalion first aid station. From there he was moved to Vlamertinghe Field Hospital, and from there again to Poperinghe. He was unconscious when he reached the hospital, and died shortly afterwards without regaining consciousness.
Major MacLaren, already wounded, was killed by a shell while on his way to the hospital. The command of the 10th Battalion passed to Major D. M. Ormond, who was wounded. Major Guthrie, a lawyer from Fredericton, New Brunswick, a member of the local Parliament and a very resolute soldier, then took command of the Battalion.
The fighting continued without intermission all through the night of April 22nd-23rd, and to those who observed the indications that the attack was being pushed with ever-growing strength, it hardly seemed possible that the Canadians, fighting in positions so difficult to defend and so little the subject of deliberate choice, could maintain their resistance for any long period.
Reinforcements of British troops, commanded by Colonel Geddes, of the Buffs, began to arrive in the gap early on Friday morning. These reinforcements, consisting of three and a half battalions of the 28th Division—drawn from the Buffs, King's Own Royal Leinsters, Middlesex, and York and Lancasters—and other units which joined them from time to time, became known as Geddes' Detachment. The grenadier company of a battalion of the Northumberland Fusiliers, numbering two officers and 120 men, who were on their way to rejoin their division after eight days of trench-fighting at Hill 60, encountered Colonel Geddes' force and joined it.[5]
At 6 a.m. on Friday, the 2nd Canadian Brigade was still intact, but the 3rd Canadian Brigade, on the left, was bent back upon St. Julien. It became apparent that the left was becoming more and more involved, and a powerful German attempt to outflank it developed rapidly. The consequences, if it had been broken or outflanked, need not be insisted upon. They would not have been merely local.
It was therefore decided, formidable as the attempt undoubtedly was, to try to give relief by a counter-attack upon the first line of German trenches, now far, far advanced from those originally occupied by the French. The attack was carried out at 6.30 a.m. by the 1st (Ontario) Battalion and the 4th Battalion of the 1st Brigade, under Brigadier-General Mercer, acting with Geddes' Detachment. The 4th Battalion was in advance and the 1st in support, under the covering fire of the 1st Canadian Artillery Brigade.
It is safe to say that the youngest private in the ranks, as he set his teeth for the advance, knew the task in front of him, and the youngest subaltern knew all that rested on its success. It did not seem that any human being could live in the shower of shot and shell which began to play upon the advancing troops.
They suffered terrible casualties. For a short time every other man seemed to fall, but the attack was pressed ever closer and closer. The 4th Canadian Battalion at one moment came under a particularly withering fire. For a moment—not more—it wavered. Its most gallant Commanding Officer, Lieut.-Colonel Birchall, carrying, after an old fashion, a light cane, coolly and cheerfully rallied his men, and at the very moment when his example had infected them, fell dead at the head of his Battalion. With a hoarse cry of anger they sprang forward (for, indeed, they loved him) as if to avenge his death.
The astonishing attack which followed, pushed home in the face of direct frontal fire, made in broad daylight by battalions whose names should live for ever in the memories of soldiers, was carried to the first line of the German trenches. After a hand-to-hand struggle, the last German who resisted was bayoneted, and the trench was won.
The measure of our success may be taken when it is pointed out that this trench represented, in the German advance, the apex in the breach which the enemy had made in the original line of the Allies, and that it was two and a half miles south of that line. This charge, made by men who looked death indifferently in the face—for no man who took part in it could think that he was likely to live—saved, and that was much, the Canadian left. But it did more.
Map--1st Canadian Division situation at 7 a.m. April 23rd, 1915Map—1st Canadian Division situation at 7 a.m. April 23rd, 1915
Up to the point where the assailants conquered, or died, it secured and maintained during the most critical moment of all, the integrity of the Allied line. For the trench was not only taken—it was held thereafter against all comers, and in the teeth of every conceivable projectile, until the night of Sunday, April 25th, when all that remained of the war-broken but victorious battalions was relieved by fresh troops.
In this attack, the work of the 1st Artillery Brigade was extremely efficient. Under the direction of Lieut.-Colonel Morrison, whose services have gained him the command of the artillery of the 2nd Division with the rank of Brigadier-General, the battery of four 18-pounders was strengthened, in the afternoon, with two heavier guns.
Captain T. E. Powers, of the Signal Company attached to General Mercer's command, maintained communication throughout with the advanced line of the attack under a heavy shell fire that cut the signal wires continually. The work of the Company was admirable, and was rendered at the price of many casualties.
It is necessary now to return to the fortunes of the 3rd Brigade, commanded by General Turner, which, as we have seen, at five o'clock on Thursday was holding the Canadian left, and after their first attack assumed the defence of the new Canadian salient, at the same time sparing all the men it could to form an extemporised line between the wood and St. Julien. This Brigade was also at the first moment of the German offensive made the object of an attack by a discharge of poisonous gas. The discharge was followed by two enemy assaults.[6]
Although the fumes were extremely poisonous, they were not, perhaps, having regard to the wind, so disabling as on the French lines (which ran almost east to west), and the Brigade, though affected by the fumes, stoutly beat back the two German assaults. Encouraged by this success, it rose to the supreme effort required by the assault on the wood, which has already been described. At 4 a.m. on the morning of Friday, the 23rd, a fresh emission of gas was made both on the 2nd Brigade, which held the line running north-east, and on the 3rd Brigade, which, as has been fully explained, had continued the line up to the pivotal point as defined above, and had there spread down in a south-easterly direction.
It is, perhaps, worth mentioning that two privates of the 48th Highlanders, who found their way into the trenches commanded by Lieut.-Colonel (now Brig.-General) Lipsett (90th Winnipeg Rifles), 8th Battalion, perished in the fumes, and it was noticed that their faces became blue immediately after dissolution. The Royal Highlanders of Montreal, 13th Battalion, and the 48th Highlanders, 15th Battalion, were more especially affected by the discharge. The Royal Highlanders, though considerably shaken, remained immovable on their ground. The 48th Highlanders, who no doubt received a more poisonous discharge, were for the moment dismayed, and, indeed, their trench, according to the testimony of very hardened soldiers, became intolerable.
The Battalion retired from the trench, but for a very short distance and for a very short time. In a few moments they were again their own men. They advanced on and reoccupied the trenches which they had momentarily abandoned.
In the course of the same night, the 3rd Brigade, which had already displayed a resource, a gallantry, and a tenacity for which no eulogy could be excessive, was exposed (and with it the whole Allied cause) to a peril still more formidable. It has been explained, and, indeed, the fundamental situation made the peril clear, that several German divisions were attempting to crush or drive back this devoted Brigade, and in any event to use their enormous numerical superiority to sweep around and overwhelm its left wing. At some point in the line which cannot be precisely determined, the last attempt partially succeeded, and, in the course of this critical struggle, German troops in considerable, though not in overwhelming numbers, swung past the unsupported left of the Brigade, and, slipping in between the wood and St. Julien, added to the torturing anxieties of the long-drawn struggle by the appearance, and indeed for the moment the reality, of isolation from the Brigade base.
In the exertions made by the 3rd Brigade during this supreme crisis it is almost impossible to single out one battalion without injustice to others, but though the efforts of the Royal Highlanders of Montreal, 13th Battalion, were only equal to those of the other battalions who did such heroic service, it so happened, by chance, that the fate of some of its officers attracted special attention.
Major Norsworthy was in the reserve trenches, half a mile in the rear of the firing line, when he was killed in his attempt to reach Major McCuaig with reinforcements; and Captain Guy Drummond fell in attempting to rally French troops. This was on the afternoon of the 22nd, and the whole responsibility for coping with the crisis then fell upon the shoulders of Major McCuaig until he was relieved early on the morning of the 23rd.
All through the afternoon and evening of the 22nd, and all through the night which followed, McCuaig had to meet and grapple with difficulties which might have borne down a far more experienced officer. His communications had been cut by shell fire, and he was, therefore, left to decide for himself whether he should retire or whether he should hold on. He decided to hold on, although he knew that he was without artillery support and could not hope for any until, at the earliest, the morning of the 23rd.
The decision was a very bold one. By all the rules of war McCuaig was a beaten man. But the very fact that he remained appears to have deceived the Germans. They might have overwhelmed him, but they feared the supports, which did not in reality exist. It was not in the enemy's psychology to understand that the sheer and unaided valour of McCuaig and his little force would hold the position.
But with a small and dwindling force he did hold it, until daylight revealed to the enemy the naked deception of the defence.
In case the necessity for retreat developed, the wounded had been moved to the trenches on the right; and, under the cover of machine gun fire, Major McCuaig withdrew his men just as Major Buchanan came up with reinforcements.
The sorely tried Battalion held on for a time in dug-outs, and, under cover of darkness, retired again to a new line being formed by reinforcements. The rearguard was under Lieut. (now Captain) Greenshields. But Major McCuaig remained to see that the wounded were removed. It was then, after having escaped a thousand deaths through the long battle of the night, that he was shot down and made a prisoner.
The story of the officers of the 7th Battalion (British Columbia Regiment) is not less glorious. This Battalion was attached to the 3rd Brigade on Thursday night, and on Friday occupied a position on the forward crest of a ridge, with its left flank near St. Julien. This position was severely shelled during the day. In the course of the afternoon the Battalion received an order to make its position secure that night. At half-past four Colonel Hart-McHarg, a lawyer from Vancouver, Major Odlum (who is now Lieut.-Colonel commanding the Battalion), and Lieut. Mathewson, of the Canadian Engineers, went out to reconnoitre the ground and decide upon the position of the new trenches to be dug under cover of darkness. The exact location of the German troops immediately opposed to their position was not known to them. The reconnoitring party moved down the slope to the wrecked houses and shattered walls of the village of Keerselaere—a distance of about 300 yards—in broad daylight without drawing a shot; but, when they looked through a window in the rear wall of one of the ruins, they saw masses of Germans lining hedges not 100 yards away, and watching them intently. As the three Canadian officers were now much nearer the German line than their own, they turned and began to retire at the double. They were followed by a burst of rapid fire the moment they cleared the shelter of the ruins. They instantly threw themselves flat on the ground. Colonel Hart-McHarg and Major Odlum rolled into a shell-hole near by, and Lieut. Mathewson took cover in a ditch close at hand. It was then that Major Odlum learned that his Commanding Officer was seriously wounded. Major Odlum raced up the hill under fire in search of surgical aid, leaving Lieut. Mathewson with the wounded officer. He found Captain George Gibson, medical officer of the 7th Battalion, who, accompanied by Sergt. J. Dryden, went down to the shell-hole immediately. Captain Gibson and the sergeant reached the cramped shelter in safety in the face of a heavy fire. They moved Colonel Hart-McHarg into the ditch where Mathewson had first taken shelter, and there dressed his wound. They remained with him until after dark, when the stretcher-bearers arrived and carried him back to Battalion Headquarters; but the devotion and heroism of his friends could not save his life. The day after he passed away in a hospital at Poperinghe.[7] But his regiment endured, and, indeed, throughout the second battle of Ypres fought greatly and suffered greatly. Major Odlum succeeded Colonel Hart-McHarg. At one time the Battalion was flanked, both right and left, by the enemy, through no fault of its own; and it fell back when it had been reduced to about 100 men still able to bear arms. On the following day, strengthened by the remnants of the 10th Battalion, the 7th was again sent in to hold a gap in our line, which duty it performed until, again surrounded by the enemy, it withdrew under cover of a dense mist.[8][9]
Every effort was made by General Alderson from first to last, to reinforce the Canadian Division with the greatest possible speed, and on Friday afternoon the left of the Canadian line was strengthened by the 2nd King's Own Scottish Borderers and the 1st Royal West Kents, of the 13th Infantry Brigade. From this time forward the Division also received further assistance on the left from a series of French counter-attacks pushed in a north-easterly direction from the canal bank.
Map--1st Canadian Division situation at 9 a.m. April 24th 1915Map—1st Canadian Division situation at 9 a.m. April 24th 1915
But the artillery fire of the enemy continually grew in intensity, and it became more and more evident that the Canadian salient could no longer be maintained against the overwhelming superiority of numbers by which it was assailed. Slowly, stubbornly, and contesting every yard, the defenders gave ground until the salient gradually receded from the apex, near the point where it had originally aligned with the French, and fell back upon St. Julien. Soon it became evident that even St. Julien, exposed to fire from right and left, was no longer tenable.[10]
The 3rd Brigade was therefore ordered to retreat further south, selling every yard of ground as dearly as it had done since five o'clock on Thursday. But it was found impossible, without hazarding far larger forces, to disentangle detachments of the Royal Highlanders of Montreal, 13th Battalion, and of the Royal Montreal Regiment, 14th Battalion. The Brigade was ordered, and not a moment too soon, to move back.
The retirement left these units with heavy hearts. The German tide rolled, indeed, over the deserted village; but for several hours after the enemy had become master of the village, the sullen and persistent rifle fire which survived, showed that they were not yet master of the Canadian rearguard. If they died, they died worthily of Canada.
The enforced retirement of the 3rd Brigade (and to have stayed longer would have been madness) reproduced for the 2nd Brigade, commanded by Brigadier-General Currie (now Major-General), in a singularly exact fashion, the position of the 3rd Brigade itself at the moment of the withdrawal of the French. The 2nd Brigade, it must be remembered, had retained the whole line of trenches, roughly 2,500 yards, which it was holding at five o'clock on Thursday afternoon, supported by the incomparable exertions of the 3rd Brigade, and by the highly hazardous deployment in which necessity had involved that Brigade.
The 2nd Brigade had maintained its lines. It now devolved on General Currie, commanding this Brigade, to repeat the tactical manoeuvres with which, earlier in the fight, the 3rd Brigade had adapted itself to the flank movement of overwhelming numerical superiority. He flung his left flank round south; and his record is that, in the very crisis of this immense struggle, he held his line of trenches from Thursday at five o'clock till Sunday afternoon. And on Sunday afternoon he had not abandoned his trenches. There were none left. They had been obliterated by artillery.
He withdrew his undefeated troops from the fragments of his field fortifications, and the hearts of his men were as completely unbroken as the parapets of his trenches were completely broken. In such a Brigade it is invidious to single out any battalion for special praise, but it is perhaps necessary to the story to point out that Lieut.-Colonel Lipsett, commanding the 8th Battalion (90th Winnipeg Rifles) of the 2nd Brigade, held the extreme left of the Brigade position at the most critical moment.
The Battalion was expelled from the trenches early on Friday morning by an emission of poisonous gas; but, recovering, in three-quarters of an hour it counter-attacked, retook the trenches it had abandoned, and bayoneted the enemy. And after the 3rd Brigade had been forced to retire, Lieut.-Colonel Lipsett held his position, though his left was in the air, until two British regiments, 8th Durham Light Infantry and 1st Hampshires, filled up the gap on Saturday night.
At daybreak on Sunday, April 25th, two companies of the 8th Battalion (90th Winnipeg Rifles), holding the left of our line, were relieved by the Durhams, and retired to reserve trenches. The Durhams suffered severely, and at 5 p.m. on Sunday afternoon, a Company of the 8th Canadian Battalion took their place on our extreme left. The Germans entrenched in the rear of this Company, and German batteries on the left flank enfiladed it. The position became untenable, and the Company was ordered to evacuate it, two platoons to retire and two platoons to cover the retirement. The retiring platoons were guided back, under terrific fire, by Sergeant (now Captain) Knobel, with a loss of about 45 per cent. of their strength. They joined the Battalion Reserve. Of the platoons which covered this retirement, every officer and man was either killed or taken prisoner. All the officers of the Company who were in action at the time the retirement was ordered, remained with the covering platoons.
The individual fortunes of the 2nd and 3rd Brigades have brought us to the events of Sunday afternoon, but it is necessary, to make the story complete, to recur for a moment to the events of the morning. After a very formidable attack the enemy succeeded in capturing the village of St. Julien, which has so often been referred to in describing the fortunes of the Canadian left. This success opened up a new and very menacing line of advance, but by this time further reinforcements had arrived.
Map--1st Canadian Division situation at noon, April 25th 1915Map—1st Canadian Division situation at noon, April 25th 1915
Here, again, it became evident that the tactical necessities of the situation dictated an offensive movement as the surest method of arresting further progress. General Alderson, who was also in command of the reinforcements, accordingly directed that an advance should be made by two British brigades (the 10th Brigade under Brigadier-General Hull,[11] and the Northumberland Brigade), which had been brought up in support. The attack was thrust through the Canadian left and centre; and as the troops making it swept on, many of them going to certain death, they paused an instant, and, with ringing cheers for Canada, gave the first indication to the Division of the warm admiration which their exertions had excited in the British Army.[12]
The advance was indeed costly, but it was made with a devotion which could not be denied. The story is one of which the Brigades may be proud, but it does not belong to the special account of the fortunes of the Canadian contingent. It is sufficient for our purpose to notice that the attack succeeded in its object, and the German advance along the line, momentarily threatened, was arrested.
We had reached, in describing the events of the afternoon, the points at which the trenches of the 2nd Brigade had been completely destroyed. This Brigade, the 3rd Brigade, and the considerable reinforcements which by this time filled the gap between the two Brigades, were gradually driven, fighting every yard, upon a line running roughly from Fortuin, south of St. Julien, in a north-easterly direction towards Passchendaele. Here the two Brigades were relieved by two British brigades, after exertions as glorious, as fruitful, and, alas! as costly, as soldiers have ever been called upon to make.
Monday morning broke bright and clear and found the Canadians behind the firing line. But this day, too, was to bring its anxieties. The attack was still pressed, and it became necessary to ask Brigadier-General Currie whether he could once more call on his shrunken Brigade.
"The men are tired," this indomitable soldier replied, "but they are ready and glad to go again to the trenches." And so, once more, a hero leading heroes, the General marched back the men of the 2nd Brigade, reduced to a quarter of its strength, to the very apex of the line as it existed at that moment. The Brigade held this position throughout Monday; on Tuesday it occupied reserve trenches, and on Wednesday it was relieved and retired to billets in the rear.[13]
It is a fitting climax to the story of the Canadians at Ypres that the last blows were struck by one who had borne himself throughout gallantly and resourcefully. Lieut.-Colonel Watson, on the evening of Wednesday, April 28th, was ordered to advance with his Battalion and dig a line of trenches which were to link up the French on the left and a battalion of the Rifle Brigade on the right. It was both a difficult and a dangerous task, and Lieut.-Colonel Watson could only employ two companies to dig, while two companies acted as cover.
They started out at 7 o'clock in the evening from the field in which they had bivouacked all day west of Brielen, and made north, towards St. Julien. And, even as they started, there was such a hail of shrapnel, intended either for the farm which served as the Battalion's Headquarters, or for the road junction which they would have to cross, that they were compelled to stand fast.
At 8 o'clock, however, Colonel Watson was able to move on again; and, as the men marched north, terrible scenesen routeshowed the fury of the artillery duel which had been in progress since the Battalion had moved out of the firing line on the morning of the 26th.
At the bridge crossing Ypres Canal, guides met the Regiment, and the extraordinary precautions which were taken to hide its movements indicated the seriousness of its errand.
The Battalion had suffered heavy losses at this very spot only a few days before, and a draft of five officers and 112 men from England had reinforced it only that morning. And the officers and men of this draft received an awful baptism of fire within practically a few hours of their arrival at the front. High explosives were bursting and thundering; there were shells searching hedgerows and the avenue of trees between which the Battalion marched, and falling in dozens into every scrap of shelter where the enemy imagined horses or wagons might be hidden. Slowly and cautiously, the march continued until the Battalion arrived behind the first line trench held by a battalion of the King's Own Scottish Borderers. Through this line Colonel Watson and his men had to pass, and on every side were strewn the bodies of scores of Ghurkas, the gallant little soldiers who had that morning perished while attempting the almost impossible task of advancing to the assault over nearly 700 yards of open ground.
When the Battalion reached the place where the trenches were to be dug, two companies were led out by Colonel Watson himself, to act as cover to the other two companies, which then began digging along the line marked by the Engineers. And if ever men worked with nervous energy, these men did that night. From enemy rifles on the ridge came the ping of bullets, which mercifully passed overhead, although, judging from the persistency and multitude of their flares, the enemy must have known that work was being done.
It was two o'clock in the morning before the work was finished, and the Battalion turned its back upon about as bad a situation as men have ever worked in.
The return to the billets at Vlamertinghe was distressing in the extreme. Officers and men, alike worn out, slept on the march oblivious of route and destination.
During the night of May 3rd[14] and the morning of the 4th, the 1st Canadian Infantry Brigade withdrew to billets at Bailleul. On the night of May 4th Lieut.-General Alderson handed over the command of this section of front to the General Officer Commanding the 4th Division, and removed his headquarters to Nieppe, withdrawing the 3rd Canadian Infantry Brigade on the night of the 4th, and the 2nd Canadian Infantry Brigade on the 5th of May.[15]
Such, in the most general outline, is the story of a great and glorious feat of arms. A story told so soon after the event, while rendering bare justice to units whose doings fell under the eyes of particular observers, must do less than justice to others who played their part—and all did—as gloriously as those whose special activities it is possible, even at this stage, to describe. But the friends of men who fought in other battalions may be content in the knowledge that they too will learn, when the historian has achieved the complete correlation of diaries of all units, the exact part which each played in these unforgettable days. It is rather accident than special distinction which has made it possible to select individual battalions for mention.
It would not be right to close even this account without a word of tribute to the auxiliary services. The signallers were always cool and resourceful. The telegraph and telephone wires were being constantly cut, and many belonging to this service rendered up their lives in the discharge of their duty, carrying out repairs with the most complete calmness in exposed positions. The despatch carriers, as usual, behaved with the greatest bravery. Theirs is a lonely life, and very often a lonely death. One cycle messenger lay on the ground badly wounded. He stopped a passing officer and delivered his message, with some verbal instructions. These were coherently given, but he swooned almost before the words were out of his mouth.
The Artillery never flagged in the sleepless struggle in which so much depended upon its exertions. Not a Canadian gun was lost in the long battle of retreat. And the nature of the position renders such a record very remarkable. One battery of four guns found itself in such a situation that it was compelled to turn two of its guns directly about and fire on the enemy in positions almost diametrically opposite.
The members of the Canadian Engineers, and of the Canadian Army Medical Corps, rivalled in coolness, endurance and valour the men of the battalions who were their comrades. On more than one occasion during that long battle of many desperate engagements, our Engineers held positions, working with the infantry. Lieut.-Colonel (now Brigadier-General) Armstrong commanded our Engineers throughout the battle. A fighting force, a constructive force, and a destructive force in the battle of Ypres, the Canadian Engineers plied their rifles, entrenched, and mined bridges across the canal (the approaches to which they held) in case of final necessity.
No attempt has been made in this description to explain the recent operations except in so far as they spring from—or are connected with—the fortunes of the Canadian Division. The exertions of the troops who reinforced, and later relieved, the Canadians, were not less glorious, but the long-drawn-out struggle is a lesson to the whole Empire—"Arise, O Israel!" The Empire is engaged in a struggle, without quarter and without compromise, against an enemy still superbly organised, still immensely powerful, still confident that its strength is the mate of its necessities. To arms, then, and still to arms! In Great Britain, in Canada, in Australia, there is need, and there is need now, of a community organised alike in military and industrial co-operation.
The graveyard of Canada in Flanders is large. It is very large. Those who lie there have left their mortal remains on alien soil. To Canada they have bequeathed their memories and their glory.
"On Fame's eternal camping groundTheir silent tents are spread,And Glory guards with solemn roundThe bivouac of the dead."
[1] Canadians owe a debt of gratitude to Lt.-Colonel Lamb for the extreme care and detailed accuracy with which he has compiled the maps and diaries of the 1st Canadian Division.
[2] The 2nd and 3rd Canadian Infantry Brigades took over the line from the French 11th Division on April 17th. It was perhaps true that the French had not developed at this part of the line the elaborate system of support trenches which had been a model to the British troops in the south. The Canadians had planned several supporting points which were in a half-finished state when the gas attack developed.
[3] The great bombardment of Ypres began on April 20th, when the first 42 centimetre shell fell into the Grand Place of the little Flemish city. The only military purpose which the wanton destruction of Ypres could serve was the blocking of our supply trains, and on the first day alone 15 children were killed as they were playing in the streets, while many other civilians perished in the ruined houses.
[4] The French troops, largely made up of Turcos and Zouaves, surged wildly back over the canal and through the village of Vlamertinghe just at dark. The Canadian reserve battalions (of the 1st Brigade) were amazed at the anguished faces of many of the French soldiers, twisted and distorted by pain, who were gasping for breath and vainly trying to gain relief by vomiting. Traffic in the main streets of the village was demoralised, and gun-carriages and ammunition wagons added to the confusion.
The chaos in the main streets of the village was such that any coherent movement of troops was, for the moment, impossible; gun-carriages and ammunition wagons were inextricably mixed, while galloping gun-teams without their guns were careering wildly in all directions. When order had been to some extent restored, Staff Officers learned from fugitives who were in a condition to speak that the Algerians had left thousands of their comrades dead and dying along the four-mile gap in our Ally's lines through which the Germans were pouring behind their gas.
[5] Colonel Geddes was killed on the morning of April 28th in tragic circumstances. He had done magnificent work with his composite force, and after five days' terrific fighting received orders to retire. He was just leaving his dug-out, after handing over his command, when a shell ended his career.
[6] Although methods for resisting gas attacks were quickly developed when the need was realised, the Canadians were, of course, at this time unprovided with the proper means for withstanding them. They discovered that a wet handkerchief stuffed in the mouth gave relief. To fall back before the gas attack merely meant that one kept pace with it, while the effort of running, and the consequent heavy breathing, simply increased the poison in the lungs. The Canadians quickly realised that it was best to face the cloud, and hold on in the hope that the blindness would be temporary, and the cutting pain would pass away.
[7] Col. Hart-McHarg and Col. Boyle—who fell on the same day that Col. Hart-McHarg was wounded—lie in the same burial ground, the new cemetery at Poperinghe.
[8] The losses of the 7th Battalion were heavy even for this time of heavy losses. Within a period of less than three days its colonel was killed and 600 of its officers and men were either killed or wounded, including every company commander. Some companies lost every officer.
[9] Lieut. E. D. Bellew, machine-gun officer of the Battalion, hoisted a loaf stuck on the point of his bayonet, in defiance of the enemy, which drew upon him a perfect fury of fire; he fought his gun till it was smashed to atoms, and then continued to use relays of loaded rifles instead, until he was wounded and taken prisoner.
[10] The remarkable services rendered at St. Julien by the Commandant, Lt.-Col. Loomis, of the 13th Batt., ought not to be forgotten. This officer remained at his post under constant and very heavy fire until the moment of evacuation, and did much by the example of his tranquillity to encourage the troops.
[11] Brig.-General Hull rendered distinguished services throughout this trying time. In addition to his own Brigade—the 10th—General Hull commanded for a considerable period the York and Durham Brigade, the 2nd King's Own Yorkshire Light Infantry, the 9th Queen Victoria Rifles, the 1st Suffolk Regiment, the 12th London Regiment, and the 4th Canadian Battalion.
[12] The particular objective of the attack was the village of St. Julien, the wood near by, and the enemy's trenches between these two points. Arrangements had been made with the Canadian Artillery for a preparatory bombardment of the wood, and the St. Julien trenches, but at the last moment the order to fire on St. Julien had to be cancelled as it was found that some of the Canadians were still holding on in the village although completely surrounded.
[13] On the morning of April 26th Lt.-Col. Kemis-Betty, Brigade Major, and Major Mersereau, Staff Captain, were wounded by a shell. Colonel Kemis-Betty, though his wound was serious, discharged his duty all day. Major Mersereau, however, who was grievously injured, was carried into General Currie's dug-out; and there, as no ambulance was available, he lay till late that night. Lt.-Col. Mitchell, of the Canadian Divisional Headquarters Staff, while on a general reconnaissance, heard of the plight of the wounded officers, who were badly in need of medical aid, and he determined to carry them to safety in his own car. With very great difficulty, for the road was being heavily shelled, Colonel Mitchell got his motor as far as Fortuin. The rest of the way had to be covered on foot, and when General Currie's dug-out was reached it was found that only Colonel Kemis-Betty could be moved. Major Mersereau's injuries were such that he had to be left in the dug-out until it was practicable to bring up an ambulance. Finally, he was removed, and is now in Canada slowly recovering from his wounds.