"I'm on the staff of the G.H.Q.,And I'd like to know who the devil are you?"
There had been such a democratic upsetting of traditions and customs in the Service, owing to the obliteration of the original British Army, that it was quite refreshing to find that a remnant of Israel had been saved.
I paid two visits to the Divisional wing within a few days of each other, and on one occasion, on a baking July day, addressed a battalion of draftees who were about to be sent up to the front. They were a fine looking lot of men and knew their drill. Poor boys, they little knew what was in store for them in those last hundred days of the war.
Rumours were current now that the time for our great attack had come, so there were no more joy-rides for me to the pleasant fields and society of Loison. On my return on July 14th I found our Headquarters once again at Etrun, and our Division were holding theirold trenches to the north and south of the Scarpe. Once more I had the pleasure of sleeping in Pudding trench and doing what I called "consolidating the line." I did a good deal of parish visiting in the trenches at this time. I felt that big changes might occur at any moment, and I wanted to be with the men in any ordeal through which they might have to pass. Very strange scenes come before me as I look back upon those days before our great attack. One night I stayed with the gallant Colonel of the Canadian Scottish at Tilloy. His headquarters were in No Man's Land, and the front trench ran in a semi-circle to the rear. The Colonel, having found a good German dugout in the cellars of the ruined château, preferred to make his headquarters there. We did not know where the enemy's front line was, and our men were doing outpost duty in shell-holes further forward. They had to be visited every two hours when it was dark, to see that all was well. That night I asked the Colonel if I might go out with the patrol. He demurred at first, and then gave his consent only on condition that I should take off my white collar, and promise not to make any jokes with the men on duty for fear they should laugh and give away our position. I made my promise and started with the patrol officer and his runner. It was a curious sensation wandering off in the darkness as silently as possible, tripping now and then on bits of wire and almost slipping into the trenches. We came to the different shell-holes and whispered conversations were held. The sentries seemed surprised when I spoke to them, as they could not recognize me in the darkness. I whispered that I had promised the Colonel not to tell any funny stories for fear they should laugh, so I merely gave them the benediction, in return for which spiritual function I got a very warm handshake. To do outpost duty in a place like that must have been more interesting than pleasant, for at all times the sentries had to keep straining their eyes in the darkness to see if a patrol of the enemy was coming to surprise them. On our return we saw some shells falling to the right in the shadowy desolation of what was called Bully-beef Wood.
On another occasion, I was coming out near Feuchy along the railway triangle when the Germans dropped some gas shells in the cutting. Two of the men and I were talking together, and we had just time to dive into Battalion Headquarters and pull down the gas blankets. We put on our helmets, but not before we had got a dose of the poison. As I sat there with my throat burning, I was filledwith alarm lest I should lose my voice and be unable in the future to recite my poems. It was hard enough, as it was, to keep my friends long enough to hear my verses, but I thought that if I had to spell them out in deaf-and-dumb language no one would ever have patience to wait till the end. However, after a few days my throat got better, and my friends were once again forced to lend me their ears.
The railway triangle was a well-known place, and any men who may have lived in some of the dugouts along the banks are not likely to forget it. In the valley there was a large artificial lake in which I had some of the most pleasant swims I have ever enjoyed, although the waters were sometimes stirred up by the advent of a shell.
It was part of our strategy to let our men get the impression that we were going to stay in the trenches before Arras for a long time. We had several raiding parties with a view to finding out the position and strength of the enemy, and our C.C.S.'s were well equipped and looked as if they were going to remain there forever. Our Corps Headquarters, too, were not far from Etrun, and the concentration of Canadians in the neighbourhood gave us the impression that we had found a more than temporary resting place. An American Chaplain was sent up to stay with me for a visit in order to see what conditions were like at the front. He was a Lutheran, although not of German extraction. I took him up to Arras one night, where we had dinner with the engineers, and afterwards saw the 10th Battalion start off for the trenches. He was much impressed with the spirit and appearance of the men. It was late when we got back to my quarters, and to my surprise on the next morning an order came through that the American Chaplain had to return immediately. Neither he nor I could understand it. I began to think he must have got into some scrape, as no explanation was given. The real reason came out afterwards.
On August 1st our Division suddenly packed up and started once more for Le Cauroy. We knew now that big things were in store for us and that the Canadian Corps were going to attack. We heard rumours of the preparations the French and Americans had made in the South, and we felt that at last the Allies were going to get the initiative into their hands. Whither we were going, however, we did not know, but we all devoutly hoped that it would not be the Salient. The secret of our destination was kept most profoundly. We weretold that everything depended upon our holding our tongues and exciting as little curiosity as possible among the inhabitants. Once again, as before Vimy, but to even a greater extent, we felt the electric thrill which kindles the imagination of an army going into battle. The rapid move which the Canadian Corps now made was the most sporting thing we ever did, and it appealed strongly to the hearts of young men who were keen on games and had been inured to a hardy life in Canada. Swiftly and secretly the battalions entrained at various points and left for parts unknown. I went in my side-car to the machine-gun headquarters at Liencourt, and on the next day to the Curé's house at Le Cauroy. I found out from Headquarters that our Division was going south within a day or so, but that I was not to tell the men. The brigades were billeted in the neighbouring villages, but were soon to move. I was only one day at Le Cauroy, and on the 3rd of August, after a rainy morning, started off in my side-car for Hornoy, a little village not far from Amiens. We left Le Cauroy in the afternoon, and soon the sun came out making the freshly washed country more beautiful than ever. It was very interesting finding our way by the map, and as we neared our destination I met many friends in the other divisions who were stationed in the villages through which we passed. By the time we reached Hornoy, the sun had set. My billet was to be with the Curé. I went over to the neat white Presbytère which was approached by a large gate leading into the garden. The old man came to meet me at the door of his house, and put me through a lot of questions in what I thought was a needlessly gruff manner. I found out afterwards that he was very kind, and that his gruffness was only assumed. He gave me a room upstairs comfortably furnished, and invited me to come into his office whenever I pleased. The church, which could be entered from the garden, was in good order, and parts of it were very old. The day after we arrived at Hornoy was Sunday, August 4th. It was the fourth anniversary of our declaration of war, and I had hoped to hold a big service for the men. Unfortunately, we were all scattered and, as our hymn books did not turn up, having been confiscated as a reprisal by some of the crown and anchor men, my plans were frustrated. In the afternoon I went by side-car to Amiens and found the city looking very different from its appearance on my last visit. The streets were absolutely deserted. Many of the houses had been damaged by shells.The Cathedral roof itself had been pierced in some places and the noble interior looked very dreary, the floor of the nave being covered with bits of broken stone and glass. It was sad to think that it might share the fate of Rheims. Some Canadians were wandering about the streets rather disconsolately. The empty city gave one a terrible sense of loneliness. On the following evening about midnight the 16th Battalion and the 3rd Battalion of Engineers passed through Hornoy in trains, going forward.
Our own orders to move came two days later, on August 7th, and I left for St. Feuchien. I went off in my side-car to the quaint old village. It is situated on the top of a low hill, and consists of a few streets and some large buildings standing in their own grounds. One of these was the country home of the Archbishop of Amiens, and this was to be our billet. I entered the grounds by a broken-down gate and drew up in front of a large brick building, one wing of which was a chapel and kept locked up. In front of the building was a well full of empty tins and other refuse. The interior of the place had once been quite fine, but was now absolutely filthy, having been used as billets. The billiard tables, however, could still be used. The room assigned to me was on the ground floor at the back. The dirt on the floor was thick, and a sofa and two red plush chairs were covered with dust. A bed in the corner did not look inviting, and through the broken windows innumerable swarms of blue-bottle flies came from the rubbish heaps in the yard. The weather was very hot and there was apparently no water for washing. I made an inspection of the building upstairs, but all the rooms had been assigned to different officers. The Archbishop's room was very large with a huge bed in it, but wore an air of soiled magnificence.
Everybody was in a great rush and, although I did not know when our attack was to take place, I felt that it might happen at any moment; and so, not worrying about my billet, I started off in my side-car to see General Thacker at Château Longeau. I found, as I passed through Boves and other villages, that the whole Canadian Corps was concentrated in the neighbourhood. The dusty roads were crowded with lorries, tanks, whippets and limbers, besides numbers of men. When I got to Château Longeau I found, to my surprise, that the General had gone to Battle Headquarters in Gentelles Wood, and an officer whom I met on the road told me that zero hour was on the following morning. I determined therefore not to return tothe archiepiscopal palace at St. Feuchien, but to go off to the attack. I returned to Boves, where, having washed and shaved, I had dinner in a damaged house with some officers of a light trench mortar battery, and after dinner started on my way to Gentelles Wood. It was a time of intense excitement. Less than a week ago we had been in the line at Arras, and now we were about to make our great attack at Amiens. The warm summer evening was well-advanced when I reached our Battle Headquarters behind the wood. All the staff officers were so busy that to ask one a question was like putting a spark to a powder magazine, so I kept out of their way and journeyed up the road to the barrier beyond which no vehicle was allowed to pass. I said good-bye to Lyons and then started off to find the trenches from which the 16th Battalion was going to lead the charge.
It was strange and exhilarating to go off on an expedition of that kind in the cool air and fading light of the evening. Something told us that at last the hour of victory was drawing near. The moving of the Corps had been so splendidly conducted and the preparation had been so secret that success seemed assured. This was an achievement which was completely different from all our past experience. The only question was, had we taken the Germans by surprise, or were they waiting with massed forces to resist our attack? As I left the outskirts of the wood behind me, and made my way over the green plain, now fading into the twilight, I passed a battalion of the 3rd Division manning a line of trenches. I had a talk with some of the men and told them that I had heard from a tank officer that nearly one thousand tanks were to be engaged in the attack on the following morning. Far over to the left, on a rise in the ground I saw the remains of a village, and was told that a mud road across the fields would lead me in the direction of the 1st Division front. I met as usual many men whom I knew, and finally some officers of the 15th Battalion in a dugout. The light began to fade and I had difficulty in seeing far ahead of me, but the track at last brought me to a sunken road which turned to the right. Here on the hillside more men were waiting in dugouts, and I was directed to a quarry, on the top of which I was to take a path that would lead me to a group of trees, where I should find the Headquarters of the 16th Battalion. When I got to the quarry I found many roads there, and whether it was that the information I had received was incorrect, or that I was more than usually stupid, I do not know. I wandered up and down for a long time, tripping over bits of wire and slipping into holes, before I was able to get to the top of the hill and look over in the direction of the German lines. At last I found a track which had evidently been used by men going up to the front. I went along it for a considerable distance and found myself on what appeared to be a plateau, but as far as I could see, no object stood out against the starry sky-line. Shells were falling in thefields to the left, and at different points on the eastern horizon the bright light of a German flare would tell us the position of the enemy's lines. I went on for some distance, straining my eyes in the darkness to see if I could discover any trees. I thought I had lost my way again. Suddenly the dim figure of a man approached, and when he came up to me, I found he belonged to one of the Imperial Battalions from whom we were taking over the line. He asked me the way to the quarry, and I was able to tell him. Then he gave me the direction I had to take to reach my destination. I resumed my walk along the narrow path and at last, to my great delight, I saw a black object in the distance. When I came up to it I found it was the group of trees for which I had been looking. The trees were growing out of a curious round hole in the ground. Here, a signaller of the 16th Battalion happened to turn up and acted as my guide. He led me down a path to the bottom of the hole where were several dugouts. In one of these I found more men of the Battalion. They were intensely keen over the prospect of a great victory on the morrow. I was told that the battalion and the companies which were going over in the first wave were in advanced trenches to the left. So, after bidding the men good-bye and good luck, I started off. At last I reached the trench, and getting down into it found the Headquarters of the Battalion had arrived there not long before. On asking where the Colonel was, I was taken to a place where a piece of canvas hung down the side of the trench. When this was lifted, I looked down into a little hole in the ground and there saw the C.O., the Adjutant and another officer studying a map by the light of a candle. The place was so tiny that I had to crawl in backwards, and finding that there was no room for a visitor, I soon took my departure. The Colonel ordered me to stay in the trench, but I had made up my mind to go forward and see the companies which were going over in the first wave. They lay along the side of a road some distance down the slope in front of us. In making my way there I passed a trench where the 5th Battalion was waiting to follow up the advance. A German machine-gun was playing freely upon the spot, but no one got hit. When I came to the advanced companies of the 16th Battalion, I passed along their line and gave them my blessing. It was splendid to meet and shake hands with those gallant lads, so soon to make the attack. They were in high spirits in spite of the seriousness of their enterprise.
Thebarrage was to start at 4.20, so I left them about 4.10 to go back to Battalion Headquarters in the trench, as I intended to follow up the advance with the stretcher-bearers. On my way back I met the Colonel, his orderly, and his piper, who a few minutes later was killed in the attack. I shook hands with them, and the Colonel said, "Now, Canon, if anything happens to me don't make any fuss over me; just say a few words over me in a shell-hole." I said, "You will come out all right, Colonel, there will be no shell-hole for you." Then, as my senior officer, he ordered me back to the trench. I told him I would go over the top with him if he wanted me to do so, but he would not hear of it. When I got to the trenches only a few minutes remained till the barrage was to start. I climbed up on the parapet and waited, looking off into the darkness. It was a wonderful moment. When the German flare-lights went up we could see that there was a wood on the other side of the valley in front of us, and its outline began to grow more distinct against the grey of the morning sky. I could see to right and left a great stretch of country sloping gradually into the darkness. Shells still fell behind our lines at intervals. Our own guns were perfectly silent. What did the enemy's quietness portend? Were the Germans aware of our contemplated assault? Were they lying in full strength like a crouching lion ready to burst upon us in fury at the first warning of our approach? Had all our precautions been in vain? Or were we on the eve of a victory which was going to shatter the iron dominion of the feudal monster? This was one of those magnificent moments in the war which filled the soul with a strange and wild delight. For months we had been preparing for this event, and now it was upon us. The sky was growing lighter, and the constellation of the Pleiades was beginning to fade in the sky above the outline of the distant trees. I looked at my watch. Nearer and nearer the hands crept to zero hour, but they move slowly at such times. Then at 4.20 the long barrage burst in all its fury. The hissing rain of shells through the air on a twenty mile front made a continuous accompaniment to the savage roar of the thousands of guns along the line. Those guns sent their wild music round the globe, and sounded that note of victory which only ceased when the bells of the churches in all the civilized world rang out their joyful peals at the signing of the Armistice.
Up went the German rockets and coloured lights calling for help,and ever and anon a red glow in the sky told us that we had blown up an ammunition dump. The noise was earth-shaking, and was even more exhilarating than that of the barrage at Vimy. I was so carried away by my feelings that I could not help shouting out, "Glory be to God for this barrage!" The German reply came, but, to our delight, it was feeble, and we knew we had taken them by surprise and the day was ours.
A strange sound behind us made us look around, and we saw the advancing tanks creeping down the slope like huge grey beetles. Our men were just in time to divert the course of one which threatened to cut our telephone wires. Then the 5th Battalion got out of their trenches, and the stretcher-bearers and I went off with them down the slope. The wood through which the German lines ran was called Hangard Wood and lay on the opposite side of the valley. Here and there lying in the ripe grain which covered the fields were bodies of the wounded and dead of the 13th and 16th Battalions. The stretcher-bearers set to work to carry off those who had been hit. A sergeant followed me and we skirted the wood looking for wounded, while he was able to become possessor of a machine-gun and several German revolvers. The wheat had been trampled down by the men in their charge, but was still high enough in places to conceal a prostrate form. By this time the attack had passed through the wood and the enemy were running before it. The German artillery now concentrated their fire on the valley, which soon, in the still morning air, became thick with smoke. It was impossible to see more than a few yards in front of one. We heard the crash of shells around us, but could not see where they burst. The sun had not risen and we soon lost our way in the mist. We could not tell from the direction of the sound which was the German barrage and which was ours.
I was going on ahead when I came to a large shell-hole that had been made in some previous battle. At the bottom of it lay three apparently dead Huns. I was looking down at them wondering how they had been killed, as they were not messed about. I thought that they must have died of shell-shock, until one of them moved his hand. At once I shouted, "Kamarad", and to my intense amusement the three men lying on their backs put up their hands and said, "Kamarad! mercy! mercy!" It was most humorous to think that three human beings should appeal to me to spare their lives. I told them in my best French to get up and follow me, and I called out to thesergeant, "Sergeant, I have got three prisoners." My desire to take a prisoner had been a standing joke among our men. Whenever they were going into action I used to offer them $25.00 to bring out a little German whom I might capture all by myself. I used to tell them not to bring out a big one, as it might look boastful for a chaplain. Here were three ready to hand for which I had to pay nothing. We moved on through the smoke, a most comical procession. The sergeant went ahead and I brought up the rear. Between us went the three terror-stricken prisoners, crouching every now and then when shells fell near us. At last we stumbled on a company of the 2nd Battalion coming forward, and I called out to them, "Boys, I got seventy-five dollars worth of Huns in one shell-hole." Our gallant Canadians at once took the three unfortunate men, who looked as if they expected to have their throats cut, and having relieved them of the contents of their pockets and removed their buttons and shoulder-straps, gave me one of the latter as a souvenir.
When the prisoners were disposed of and sent back with others under escort, I started forward again and seeing a tank coming down the hill got on it and so went back into the battle. We passed quite easily over some wide trenches, then when the machine came to a stop I got off and made my way to the end of the valley and climbed to the higher ground beyond. There I found myself in a wide expanse of country covered by yellow grain and rolling off in hills to the distance. Here and there I met wounded men walking back, and many German prisoners. In the fields in different directions I could see rifles stuck, bayonet downwards, in the ground, which showed that there lay wounded men. I found that these were chiefly Germans, and all of them had received hideous wounds and were clamouring for water. Poor men, I was sorry for them, for I knew it would be long before they could be carried out or receive medical attention, owing to the rapidity of our advance. I made my way to each in turn and gave him a drink from some of the water bottles which I carried round my belt. I think all the Germans I saw that morning were dying, having been wounded in the stomach. After attending, as far as it was possible, to their bodily needs, I endeavoured to minister to their spiritual. As they happened to be Roman Catholics, I took off the crucifix which I wore round my neck and gave it to them. They would put up their trembling hands and clasp it lovingly, and kiss it, while I began theLord's Prayer in German. This happened many times that day. One man who had a hideous wound in the abdomen was most grateful, and when he handed me back the crucifix he took my hand and kissed it. It was strange to think that an hour before, had we met, we should have been deadly enemies. At a crossroad further on the Germans must have concentrated their fire when our men advanced, for many dead and wounded were lying about.
The sun was now high in the heavens and it became very hot, but the autumn fields looked beautiful, and, as there were no hedges or fences, the low rolling hills gave one the sense of great expanse, and were an ideal ground for a battle on a large scale. While I was looking after the wounded I heard the cheering of the 16th Battalion who had reached their objective and were settling down to rest and to have some food. I made my way to them and found the Colonel in high glee over what his men had done. It had been a splendid routing of the enemy. The Battalions of the 1st and 2nd Brigades followed up the attack and were now moving forward, so I followed after them. It was a delightful feeling to be walking through the golden harvest fields with the blue sky overhead, and to know that we were advancing into the enemy's land. It seemed as if by our own labours we had suddenly become possessed of a vast property and that everything we found was lawfully ours. It is no doubt that feeling which fills men with the desire to loot in a conquered country.
I had a magnificent view from the hill of the British Cavalry going into action. Thousands of little horses in the distance on the vast plain were galloping in a long line across the yellow fields, which reminded one of the great battles of old, when mounted men, and not machine-guns and gas-shells, were the determining factor. The store of water that I had brought with me was now exhausted, but I was able to get a fresh supply from the waterbottle of a dead man. The road that leads from Gentelles to Caix winds through the valley to the right of the line of our attack and follows a little stream. It is very narrow, and on that day was so crowded with cavalry, ambulances and artillery moving forward that every now and then it would become blocked. In a mill, which the Germans had used partly as artillery headquarters and partly as a depot for military stores, our men found a quantity of blankets, coats and other useful articles. Our doctors established an aid-post in the out-buildings, and made use of the materials which the enemy had left behind inhis flight. A section of our machine-gunners was resting there, and it was a great refreshment to stop for a while and have a good clean-up and a shave with a borrowed razor. We were so parched with thirst that we drank out of the stream, in spite of the fact that many shells had fallen into it. Our final objective was still some miles away, so I started up the road, following after the 1st Brigade.
The Germans, finding the game was up, had left many guns behind them and blown up a large quantity of ammunition. One great heap of it lay beside the river. Very pretty hamlets lay along the valley; we passed one called Ignacourt, where there was a damaged church. We afterwards established an ambulance there. I was very tired with my long walk, not having had any sleep the night before, so was glad to get a lift on an ambulance and go forward in the afternoon to the village of Caix, which was the final objective of the 2nd Brigade. One of our ambulances had taken over a building in the Square, but was shelled out of it that night. The 10th Battalion had gone forward and taken possession of trenches beyond the village. I went out to them and there found the men in high spirits over the way the battle had gone. The old red patch Division had advanced 14,000 yards, and so had beaten the record of any division, British or enemy, during the War. It was now late in the afternoon and no further attack that day was contemplated. Before us on a slight rise in the ground lay the village of Rosières, through which the road ran parallel to the trenches which we held. Between us and the village was a slight dip in the ground, and with glasses we could see lorries full of fresh German troops, amid clouds of dust, making their way to a point in the village. There they would stop and the men would get out and hurry down the fields into the trenches. It looked as if they were going to make a counter-attack. The situation was very disquieting. I was told by one of the sergeants in our front line that we were in need of fresh ammunition, and he asked me if I would let the Colonel know. I passed through the trenches on my return and told the men how glorious it was to think that we had pushed the Germans back and were now so many miles from where we had started. I went back to Battalion Headquarters and found that they were in a cottage on the eastern extremity of the village. Across the road was a cavalry observation-post, where some officers were watching Rosières and the arrival ofGerman troops. Luckily for us the Germans had no guns to turn upon us, although the village of Caix was shelled constantly all night. Later on, some batteries of the Royal Horse Artillery and our field guns, which had come up, sealed the fate of the Germans and prevented a counter-attack. A glorious sunset over the newly conquered territory made a fitting close to a day of great deeds and high significance. When darkness fell and the stars looked out of the quiet sky, I said good-night to my cavalry friends, whose billets were down in a hollow to the right, and started off to find some place to sleep.
The cellars of the cottage occupied by the Colonel were crowded, so I went to the village and seeing some men entering a gateway followed them. It was the courtyard of a large building, presumably a brewery. The runners of the battalion had found a deep cellar where they had taken up their abode. I asked if I might sleep with them for the night. The cellar was not particularly inviting, but it was well below the ground and vaulted in brick. The floor was simply earth and very damp. Two candles were burning in a box where a corporal was making out the ration-list for the men. I got two empty sandbags to put on the floor to keep me from getting rheumatism, and lying on them and using my steel helmet as a pillow I prepared to sleep. The runners, except those on duty, did the same. Our feet met in the centre of the room and our bodies branched off like the spokes of a wheel. When anyone turned and put his feet on one side we all had to turn and put our feet in the same direction. We heard a good many shells bursting in the Square that night, but we were safe and comparatively comfortable. Before I got to sleep, I watched with great admiration the two young non-coms who were sitting at the table arranging and discussing in a low tone the duties of the various men for the following day. The two lads could not have been more than twenty years of age, but their sense of responsibility and justice was well-developed. I thought what a fine thing it was that men were being trained like that to become useful citizens of Canada. We were up early in the morning and I made my way to Battalion Headquarters, where I heard that there was to be another attack in the forenoon.
We were now to change places with the 2nd Division. They were to shift from our right flank to our left and take over the attackon Rosières while we advanced towards Warvillers. From the cavalry observation-post, I could see with a glass the 5th Battalion going up to the front in single file along a hedge. I had breakfast with the 7th Battalion officers in their dugout by the roadside near the cavalry billets, and then started off to join the 8th Battalion which was going to attack that morning. Machine-guns from Rosières were playing on the road near the end of the wood. I determined therefore not to go round the wood but through it and so reached the other side in safety. I was sitting on a fallen tree eating some lunch and wondering whether I should be able to get up in time for the attack, when, to my great joy, over the hill to my right, I saw some troops approaching in extended order. Hardly had they appeared on the crest when the Germans at Rosières opened fire upon them and shells fell on the hill. The men kept very steady and nobody, as far as I could see, was hit. When they got down to the wood I went forward and spoke to them and found they were the 22nd Battalion, and I met several Quebecers whom I knew.
I saw the Battalion go off in the direction of Rosières and I renewed my journey to our own line. I passed the 24th Battalion who were going up on the left of the 22nd, and they told me that the 2nd Brigade were on their right. There were many trenches along the way which the Germans had abandoned on the previous day. I passed a poor horse which was badly wounded and still alive. It was attached to a broken German cart. I got one of our men to shoot the animal, and went on till I came to a railway in the hollow and followed it. There were many wooden buildings here and there which had been built by the Germans. These structures had been badly knocked about by shrapnel, and the litter of articles within showed how rapid the German flight had been. At a little distance on the east side of the track, there was a green wood, which was called, as I afterwards found out, Beaufort or Hatchet Wood. Every now and then as I walked, little puffs of dust would rise from the road in front of me, showing that machine-gun bullets were falling about. A cavalry patrol of three men, returning down the track from the direction of the wood, came towards me, and, taking me for a combatant officer, the corporal saluted and said, "That wood is very heavily held by machine-guns, Sir, we have just made a reconnaissance." "That's all right," I said, "I do not intend to take it just yet." I was going up the track, wondering whereI had got to, when I saw a young officer of the 8th Battalion, followed by his men, coming towards me. I went to him and told him that I had heard the wood was very heavily held by machine-guns. He said he knew it and was going to attack from the side, so I went with them and, as they lay on the ground and got their Lewis guns in position, I pronounced the benediction over them and then continued my journey up the railroad. On the west side of the track at the top of the bank was a hedge. Here I found the 14th Battalion waiting to follow up the 8th. A young officer of the latter battalion was lying on the ground dying. He dictated a farewell letter to his wife, which I afterwards gave to the Adjutant. On the slope of ground down which the 8th had charged towards the railway I saw many bodies of dead and wounded men, so I went up to them to see what I could do. Several were dying, and I found one poor fellow who had never been baptised; so I took some water from my bottle and baptised him as he lay there. They would be carried off when the stretcher-bearers could begin their work.
While I was attending to the wounded, I looked towards the wood at the other side of the track. I was on a higher level, and so had a view of the open country beyond, and there, to my astonishment, I saw the Germans leaving their ambush and running away. I hurried down the hill to the hedge and shouted out to the 14th Battalion that the Germans were running away, and an officer came up to make sure. Then orders were given to the men to charge and they crossed the track and took possession of the wood. As soon as I had seen the wounded carried off I followed after the troops, and there once more had the joy of advancing over newly-won territory.
At a farmhouse a number of our men were gathered for a temporary rest, and there I learned that the colonel of the 8th Battalion and a large number of officers and men had been killed that morning. The battalion had to charge down the hill in the face of heavy machine-gun fire. Some tanks were standing by the farm and one of the officers offered to take me with him in the machine, but as it was to go into the 2nd Divisional area I had to decline the invitation and follow up our men on foot. I passed a number of German wounded. One of them, a young lad, was terribly alarmed when he saw me approaching, thinking I was going to murder him. He held up his hands and shouted, "Kamarad!" I think the Germanshad heard wild stories of the ferocity of Canadians. The boy then began to implore me to send him to an ambulance. He was wounded in the leg, and had bound up his wounds very neatly and skilfully. I tried to make him understand that the stretcher-bearers would come up in time, and I stuck his rifle in the ground with his helmet on the top of it, as a signal to the bearer party.
Before me at the end of the road, I saw amid trees the village of Warvillers. Many men were going towards it from all directions; and I saw our artillery brigades taking up battery positions to the left. I met two men of the 5th Battalion and we started off to the village together. The place was now in our hands, as the Germans had evacuated it some hours before. The houses were quite intact and offered prospects of pleasant billets. My companions and I, finding it was quite late in the afternoon, determined to go and have our meal in a garden near the Château. We sat down on the grass and opened our bully-beef tins, and seeing onions growing in the garden thought it would be a good thing to have that savoury vegetable as a relish. It added to the enjoyment of our simple meal to think that we were eating something which the Germans had intended for themselves. We managed to get some fresh water too from a well nearby, which looked quite clean. On the other side of a wall we could see the roof of the Château. One of the men thought he would like to go and explore and find out who was there. He came back a few minutes afterwards and said it was full of Germans. So, taking their rifles, the two men went off to attack it, thinking they had found a stronghold of the enemy. I was just having a smoke after my meal when the lads came back and said that the Germans whom they had seen were our prisoners and that the Château had been taken over by us as a dressing station. We made our way to it and found that it was a very beautiful place situated in lovely grounds. A card on a door upstairs bore the inscription, "His Excellency General," and then followed a German name. The place had been the headquarters of some enemy corps or division on the previous day. At the back of the Château was a very strong concrete dugout divided off into rooms, which were soon filled by our officers and men. All that night the wounded were being brought to the Château, and German prisoners also found their way there. Nobody was paying much attention to the latter, and, thinking it was unwise to let them wander about, and perhaps go back to theirlines with information about our location, with the permission of the C.O. of the ambulance, who was up to his eyes in work, I had them all put into one large room over which I placed a guard. They were sent back to the corps cage in the morning. The Germans evidently expected that we would use the Château because they dropped some heavy shells in the garden during the night, and we had to get the wounded down in to the cellars in quick time.
I had about three hours sleep that night, and in the morning I determined to follow up our men of the 1st Brigade who had now established themselves at a village ahead of us called Rouvroy. As I was starting off, a signaller came up to me and told me he had captured a stray horse with a saddle on it and that he would lend it to me to take me to my destination. I mounted the animal and went down the avenue in great pride and comfort, but after I got into the road a man came up and stopped me and told me, to my horror, that I was riding his horse which he had lost the night before. It requires great strength of mind and self-mastery to give up a mount to a pedestrian when you are once in the saddle. But the war had not entirely extinguished the light of conscience in my soul, so, tired as I was, I dismounted and gave up the steed. But as I saw the man ride back to the Château I began to wonder within myself whether he was the real owner or not. One thief does not like to be out-witted by another. However, there was nothing to do now but to go straight ahead. The road before me led directly to Rouvroy. Some German planes were hovering overhead, and in the fields to my left our artillery were going into action. As shells were dropping on the road I took a short cut over the fields. Here I found some of our machine-gunners, and the body of a poor fellow who had just been killed. I got to the village of Rouvroy about noon and made my way to a dugout under the main road, where the colonel and some of the officers of the 3rd Battalion were having lunch. They gave me a cup of tea, but I told them I had taken my food on the journey, so did not want anything to eat. They looked much relieved at this, because rations were short. Their chaplain was there and gave me a warm reception. I was feeling rather used up, so lay down on a wire mattress and had an hour's sleep. When lunch was over the chaplain and I went to see the sights of the town. The ruined church was being used for a dressing station and it seemed to me itwas rather a dangerous place, as the Germans would be likely to shell it. We found an old bookshop which was filled with German literature and writing paper, some of which proved very useful.
We had a good rest in a dugout, but I felt so seedy that I told him, if he heard that I had gone out of the line, not to think it was because I was suffering from "cold feet". We went back to the village, and there we found shells dropping in the main street not far from the church. In fact, one came so close that we had to dive into a cellar and wait till the "straffing" was over. Then I bid my companion good-bye and started off over the fields back to Warvillers. By this time I felt so unwell that it was hard to resist the temptation to crawl into some little hole in which I might die quietly. However, with my usual luck, I found a motor car waiting near the road for an air-officer who had gone off on a tour of inspection and was expected to return soon. The driver said I could get in and rest. When the officer came back he kindly consented to give me a ride to my Divisional Headquarters. We did not know where they were and I landed in the wrong place, but finally with the assistance of another car I made my way to Beaufort. There I found our Division had established themselves in huts and dugouts at the back of an ancient château. With great difficulty I made my way over to General Thacker's mess and asked for some dinner.
During the meal, the General sent off his A.D.C. on a message, and he soon returned with no less a person than the A.D.M.S., who, to my dismay, proceeded to feel my pulse and put a clinical thermometer in my mouth. My temperature being 103-1/2, he ordered me at once to go off to a rest camp, under threat of all sorts of penalties if I did not. I lay on the floor of his office till three in the morning, when an ambulance arrived and took me off to some place in a field, where they were collecting casualties. From thence I was despatched to the large asylum at Amiens which was operated by an Imperial C.C.S. The major who examined me ordered me to go to the Base by the next train, as they had no time to attend to cases of influenza. For a while I was left on the stretcher in a ward among wounded heroes. I felt myself out of place, but could do nothing to mend matters. Two sisters came over to me, and apparently took great interest in me till one of them looked at the tag which was pinned on my shoulder. With a look of disgust she turned and said to her companion, "He isn't wounded at all, he has only got the 'flu'". At once they lost all interestin me, and went off leaving me to my fate. Stung by this humiliation, I called two orderlies and asked them to carry me out into the garden and hide me under the bushes. This they did, and there I found many friends who had been wounded lying about the place. My batman had come with me and had brought my kit, so a box of good cigars which I handed round was most acceptable to the poor chaps who were waiting to be sent off. By a stroke of good luck, an accident on the railway prevented my being evacuated that evening. I knew that if they once got me down to the Base my war days would be over.
On the following morning, feeling better, I got up, shaved, put on my best tunic, and, with a cigar in my mouth, wandered into the reception room, where I found the major who had ordered me off on the previous day. Puffing the smoke in front of my face to conceal my paleness, I asked him when he was going to send me down to the Base. He looked a little surprised at finding me recovered, and then said, "Well, Padré, I think I will let you go back to your lines after all." It was a great relief to me. The chaplain of the hospital very kindly took me in charge and allowed me to spend the night in his room. The next day I got a ride in a Canadian ambulance and made my way back to Beaufort. There, to my horror, I found that the Division, thinking they had got rid of me for good, had appointed another padré in my place. Through the glass door of my room, I could see him giving instructions to the chaplain of the artillery. I felt like Enoch Arden, but I had not Enoch's unselfishness so, throwing the door wide open, I strode into the room, and to the ill-concealed consternation of both my friends who had looked upon me in a military sense as dead, informed them that I had come back to take over my duties. Of course, everyone said they were glad to see me, except General Thacker, who remarked dryly that my return had upset all the cherished plans of well-ordered minds. The A.D.M.S. had told them that he had thought I was in for an attack of pneumonia. It was really a very amusing situation, but I was determined to avoid the Base, especially now that we felt the great and glorious end of our long campaign was coming nearer every day.
On Friday the 16th of August our Division left Beaufort and moved back to billets at Le Quesnel. Here there was a good sized château which was at once used for office purposes. The General and his staff made their billets in a deep cave which was entered from the road. It was of considerable extent, lit by electric light, and rooms opened out on both sides of the central passage. I had one assigned to me, but as I did not feel well enough to stand the dampness I gave it to the clerks of the A.D.M.S., and made my home with the veterinary officer in the cellar of the school-house which stood beside the church. The latter, which had been used by the Germans as a C.C.S., was a modern building and of good proportions. The spire had been used as an observation-post. One or two shells had hit the building and the interior, though still intact, was in great disorder. The altar ornaments, vestments, and prayer books were thrown about in confusion. The school-house where I was lodged must have been also the Curé's residence. A good-sized room downstairs served as a chapel for my Sunday services. The cellar, where the A.D.V.S. and I slept was quite comfortable, though by no means shell-proof. As the only alternative abode was the cave, he and I, deciding we would rather die of a shell than of rheumatism, chose the cellar. The Corps ambulances were all together in a valley not far away, and in trenches to the east, near the cemetery where the 8th Battalion officers and men had been buried, there were some reserves of the 3rd Brigade.
Things were quiet now in the front line, so I determined to make a trip to Albert to see my son's grave. It was a long and dusty journey and the roads were rough. We passed back through the district over which we had advanced, and saw everywhere gruesome traces of the fighting. When we came to Albert, however, we found it was still in the possession of the enemy. The Americans were holding the line, and an American sentry stopped us at a barrier in the road and said that no motorcycles were allowed togo any further in that direction. It was strange to hear the American accent again, and I told the lad that we were Canadians. "Well", he said, with a drawl, "that's good enough for me." We shook hands and had a short talk about the peaceful continent that lay across the ocean. There was nothing for us to do then but to return.
On the following Sunday, the Germans having evacuated Albert a day and a half before, I once more paid a visit to the old town. I left my side-car on the outskirts of the place and was taken by Mr. Bean, the Australian War Correspondent, into his car. He was going up to take some photographs. The day was intensely hot, and the dust of the now ruined town was literally ankle-deep and so finely powdered that it splattered when one walked as though it had been water. I saw the ruins of the school-house which our ambulances had used, and noticed that the image of the Virgin had been knocked down from the tower of the Cathedral. I passed the house where our Headquarters had been. The building was still standing but the front wall had gone, leaving the interior exposed. I made my way up the Bapaume road to Tara Hill, and there to my great delight I found the little cemetery still intact. Shells had fallen in it and some of the crosses had been broken, but the place had been wonderfully preserved. A battery on one side of it had just ceased firing and was to advance on the following day. While I was putting up some of the crosses that had fallen, Mr. Bean came up in his car and kindly took a photograph of my son's grave. He also took a photograph of the large Australian cross which stands at one corner of the cemetery. Tara Hill had been for six months between the German front and reserve lines, and I never expected that any trace of the cemetery would have been found. I shall probably never see the place again, but it stands out in my memory now as clear and distinct as though once more I stood above the dusty road and saw before me the rows of little crosses, and behind them the waste land battered by war and burnt beneath the hot August sun. Over that very ground my son and I had ridden together, and within a stone's throw from it two years before we had said good-bye to one another for the last time.
Our Division had now come out of the line and were hurrying north. On August 26th Lyons and I started off in the car, and after a tedious and dusty journey, enlivened by several break-downs, arrivedin Arras very late at night and found a billet with the Engineers in the Place de la Croix. Once more our men were scattered about the old city and its environs as if we had never left it. Our Battle Headquarters were in the forward area and rear Headquarters in a large house in Rue du Pasteur. It was a picturesque abode. The building itself was modern, but it was erected on what had been an old Augustinian Monastery of the 11th century. Underneath the house there was a large vaulted hall with pillars in it which reminded one of the cloisters of Westminster Abbey. It was below the level of the ground and was lit by narrow windows opening on the street. It was a most interesting place and had been decorated with heraldic designs painted on canvas shields by a British Division that had once made its headquarters there. We used the hall as our mess and from it passages led to several vault-like chambers and to cellars at the back, one of which was my bedroom. A flight of steps led down to stone chambers below these and then down a long sloping passage to a broken wall which barred the entrance into the mysterious caves beneath the city. The exhalations which came up to my bedroom from these subterranean passages were not as fresh or wholesome as one could have wished, but, as it was a choice between foul air and running the chance of being shelled, I naturally chose the former.
We moved into this billet in the evening, and early the following morning I was lying awake, thinking of all the strange places I had lived in during the war, when close by I heard a fearful crash. I waited for a moment, and then, hearing the sound of voices calling for help, I rushed up in my pyjamas and found that a huge shell had struck a house three doors away, crushing it in and killing and wounding some of our Headquarters staff. Though Arras was then continually being shelled, some of the inhabitants remained. Opposite our house was a convent, and in cellars below the ground several nuns lived all through the war. They absolutely refused to leave their home in spite of the fact that the upper part of the building had been ruined by shells. Our nearness to the railway station, which was a favourite target for the German guns, made our home always a precarious one.
One day the Paymaster was going into our Headquarters, when a shell burst in the Square and some fragments landed in our street taking off the fingers of his right hand. I was away at the time, but when I returned in the evening the signallers showed me alonely forefinger resting on a window sill. They had reverently preserved it, as it was the finger which used to count out five-franc notes to them when they were going on leave.
Our Corps dressing-station was in the big Asylum in Arras. The nuns still occupied part of the building. The Mother Superior was a fine old lady, intensely loyal to France and very kind to all of us. When the Germans occupied Arras in the beginning of the war, the Crown Prince paid an official visit to the Asylum, and, when leaving, congratulated the Mother Superior on her management of the institution. She took his praises with becoming dignity, but when he held out his hand to her she excused herself from taking it and put hers behind her back.
The dressing-station was excellently run and the system carried out was perfect. The wounded were brought in, attended to, and sent off to the C.C.S. with the least possible delay. The dead were buried in the large military cemetery near the Dainville road where rest the bodies of many noble comrades, both British and Canadian. A ward was set apart for wounded Germans and it was looked after by their own doctors and orderlies.
Meanwhile our Division was preparing for the great attack upon the Drocourt-Quéant line. The 2nd Division were in the trenches and had taken Monchy. We were to relieve them and push on to the Canal du Nord and, if possible, beyond it. Movements were now very rapid. All the staff were kept intensely busy. The old days of St. Jans Cappel and Ploegsteert, with their quiet country life, seemed very far away. This was real war, and we were advancing daily. We heard too of the victories of the French and Americans to the South. It was glorious to think that after the bitter experience of the previous March the tables had been turned, and we had got the initiative once more. Our Battle Headquarters, where the General and his staff were, lay beyond Neuville Vitasse. They were in a deep, wide trench, on each side of which were dugouts and little huts well sandbagged. Over the top was spread a quantity of camouflage netting, so that the place was invisible to German aeroplanes. The country round about was cut up by trenches, and in many of these our battalions were stationed. All the villages in the neighbourhood were hopeless ruins. I tried to get a billet in the forward area, as Arras was so far back, but every available place was crowded and it was so difficult to get up rations that nobody was anxious to have me.
On Saturday, August 31st, I paid a visit to our Battle Headquarters, and the General asked me to have a Celebration of the Holy Communion there the next morning at eight. I knew that the attack was almost due, so I prepared for it and took my iron rations with me. We had the Communion Service in a tent at the General's Headquarters. There were only three present, but the General was one of them. I had breakfast in a quaint little hut in the side of the trench, and then started off to the forward area. The great stretch of country was burnt dry by the summer heat and the roads were broken up and dusty. I was taken by car to the Headquarters of the 2nd Brigade which were in a trench, and from thence I started on foot to Cherisy. Here the 8th Battalion were quartered, the 5th being in the line. Zero hour, I was told, was early the next morning. The 2nd and 3rd Brigades were to make the attack. The 5th Battalion was to have advanced that day and taken possession of a certain trench which was to be the jumping off line on the following morning. I heard that they had had a hard time. They had driven out the Germans, but had been seriously counter-attacked and had lost a large number of men. I determined therefore to go out and take them some cigarettes and biscuits which the Y.M.C.A. generously provided. I started off in the afternoon to go to the front line, wherever it might be. I went down the road from Cherisy past the chalk-pit, where we had a little cemetery, and then turning into the fields on the left walked in the direction in which I was told the 5th Battalion lay. It was a long, hot journey, and as I had not quite recovered from my attack of influenza I found it very fatiguing. On all sides I saw gruesome traces of the recent fighting. I came across the body of a young artillery officer of the 2nd Division, but, as all his papers had been taken away, I could not discover his name. My way passed through the remains of what had been an enemy camp. There were a number of well-built huts there, containing much German war-material, but they had been damaged by our shells. The Germans hadevidently been obliged to get out of the place as quickly as possible. I was just leaving the camp when I met several of our men bringing up a number of prisoners. While we were talking, some shells fell, and we all had to dive into two trenches. The Huns took one; we Canadians took the other. We had no desire, in case a shell landed in our midst to have our bits mingled with those of the Germans. When the "straffing" was over, the others went back, and I continued my way to the front. It must have been about six or seven o'clock when I arrived at the 5th Battalion Headquarters, which were in a deep German dugout. The Colonel was absent at a conference, so the Adjutant was in command. I told him that I had come provided with cigarettes and other comforts for the men, and asked him to give me a runner to take me to the front line. He absolutely refused to do anything of the kind, as he told me he did not know where it was himself. The situation was most obscure. Our men had attacked and had been driven back and then they had attacked again, but he thought they were now in shell holes and would be hard to find. In fact, he was most anxious about the condition of affairs and was hoping the Colonel would soon return. I asked him if he would like me to spend the night there. He said he would, so I determined to settle down and wait for an opportunity of getting up to the men.
I went over to a trench a little way off, passing two dead Germans as I did so, and saw the little white flag with the red cross on it which showed that a dugout there was used as the regimental aid post. I went down into the place, which had two openings, and found the M.O. and his staff and a number of machine-gunners. Being Sunday, I told them that I would have service for them. We all sat on the floor of the long dugout. Two or three candles gave us all the light we had, and the cigarettes which I had brought with me were soon turned into smoke. In the meantime a young stretcher-bearer, unknown to me, made a cup of tea and brought that and some buttered toast for my supper. When I had finished and we were just going to begin the service, a voice suddenly shouted down the steps in excited tones. "We've all got to retreat; the Germans are coming." At once a corporal shouted up to him, "Shut up, none of that talk out here." Of course, I had not said a word to any of the men about the condition of our front line, but remembering what the Adjutant had told me about it, I thought now that there might be some reason for the alarm. As I have said on a formeroccasion, I had a great objection to being bombed in a dugout, so I said to the men, "Well, boys, perhaps we had better take it seriously and go up and see what the matter is." We climbed up to the trench, and there on looking over the parapet we saw an exciting scene. It was not yet dark, and in the twilight we could see objects at a certain distance, but it was just light enough and dark enough to confuse one's vision. Along the line to the right of our front trenches, rockets and S.O.S. signals were going up, showing that the Germans were attacking. Our reserve battalions were far back at Cherisy, and our artillery had not yet come up. At any rate, somewhere in the glimmering darkness in front of us the Germans were advancing. They actually did get between us and our front line. The machine-gunners at once went to their posts, and the M.O. wanted orders as to what he and his staff were to do. I went back down the trenches past the dead Germans to Battalion Headquarters, and asked the Adjutant what orders he had for the M.O. He said we were all to congregate at Headquarters; so I went back and gave the message. I remember looking over the waste of ground and wondering if I could see the Germans. For a time it was really very exciting, especially for me, because I did not know exactly what I should do if the Germans came. I could not fight, nor could I run away, and to fold one's arms and be taken captive seemed too idiotic. All the time I kept saying to myself, "I am an old fool to be out here." Still, we got as much fun out of the situation as we could, and, to our intense relief, the arrival of some of our shells and the sudden appearance of a Highland Battalion of the 4th Division on our left, frightened the Germans and they retired, leaving us to settle down once more in our trench home.
On the return of the Colonel, we learned that, on account of the heavy losses which the 5th Battalion had suffered that day, the 7th Battalion would attack on the following morning. Later on in the evening, I saw some machine-gunners coming up, who told us that they had left some wounded and a dead man in a trench near the road. I determined to go back and see them. The trench was very crowded, and as it was dark it was hard to find one's way. I nearly stepped on a man who appeared to be sleeping, leaning against the parapet. I said to one of the men, "Is this a sleeping hero?" "No, Sir," he replied, "It's a Hun stiff." When I got down to the road, I met two men and we hunted for the place where the woundedhad been left, but found they had been carried off to Cherisy. So I started back again for Battalion Headquarters, and as numbers of men were going forward I had no difficulty in finding it.
The dugout was now absolutely crowded. Every available space, including the steps down from the opening, was filled with men. I managed to secure a little shelf in the small hours of the morning, and had two or three hours sleep. The atmosphere was so thick that I think we were all overcome by it and sank into profound slumber. At last, one of the men suddenly woke up and said to me, "It's ten minutes to five, Sir." The barrage was going to start at five. As far as I could see, everyone in the dugout but ourselves, was sound asleep. I climbed up the steps, waking the men on them and telling them that the barrage would start in ten minutes. The sentries in the trench said that the 7th Battalion had gone forward during the night with a number of 4th Division men. The morning air was sweet and fresh after that of the dugout, but was rather chilly. A beautiful dawn was beginning, and only a few of the larger stars were visible. The constellation of Orion could be seen distinctly against the grey-blue of the sky. At five o'clock the barrage started, and there was the usual glorious roar of the opening attack. Very quickly the Germans replied, and shells fell so unpleasantly near, that once again we crowded into the dugout. After a hasty breakfast of bacon and tea the battalions moved off, and I made my way to the front. I saw an officer of the 7th Battalion being carried to the M.O.'s dugout. He was not badly hit, and told me he was just back from leave and had been married only a fortnight ago. I shook hands with him and congratulated him on being able to get back to Blighty and have a wife to look after him. He was being carried by some Germans and had two of our bearers with him. I went down into a communication trench and the next instant a shell burst. I did not know then that anybody had been hit by it, but I learned afterwards that the officer, the stretcher-bearers and the Germans had all been killed.
I made my way to a mud road, where to my infinite delight I saw large numbers of German prisoners being marched back. By the corner of a wood the 8th Battalion were waiting their turn to advance. To the left was the hill called The Crow's Nest, which our 3rd Brigade had taken that day. I crossed the Hendecourt-Dury road,which had trees on both sides of it, and then meeting the 2nd Battalion went forward with them. There were some deep trenches and dugouts on the way, which our units at once appropriated and which became the headquarters of two of our Brigades. Our artillery had also come up and their chaplain was with them. The C.O. of the 7th Battalion was having breakfast in the corner of a field, and feeling very happy over the result of the morning's work. Far off we could see the wood of Cagnicourt, and beyond that in the distance we could see other woods. I went off in the direction of Cagnicourt and came to some German huts, where there was a collection of military supplies. Among them was a large anti-tank rifle. As it had begun to rain, I was very glad to find some German water proof sheets which I put over my shoulders as I was eating my bully-beef. Cagnicourt lay in a valley to the right and, when I got there, I found a battery of artillery had just arrived and were taking up their positions by a road which led on to Villers-Cagnicourt. We were all in high spirits over our fresh achievement. In some dugouts on the way, I found the headquarters of the 13th and 14th Battalions, and learned of the very gallant deed of the Rev. E. E. Graham, the Methodist chaplain attached to the 13th Battalion. He had carried out, under the barrage, five wounded men of the 2nd Division, who had been left in No Man's Land. He was recommended for the Victoria Cross, but unfortunately, for some reason or other, only got the D.S.O. In a trench near Villers-Cagnicourt I found the 4th Battalion, who told me that they thought our advance was checked. I sat talking to them for some time, but was so tired that I absolutely could not keep awake. The men were much amused to see me falling asleep in the midst of a conversation. I managed, however, to pull myself together, and went over to the main Cherisy road, on the side of which one of our ambulances had taken up its position and was being attended by one of our military chaplains. I was feeling so seedy by this time that I got a seat by the side of the driver on a horse ambulance, and made my way back to Cherisy. The road was narrow and crowded with traffic, and had been broken in places by shells. Quite a number of bodies were lying by the wayside. I arrived back at my billet in Arras in the evening feeling very tired. At the Corps dressing station that night I saw large numbers of our men brought in, among them the C.O. of the 2nd Battalion, who had especially distinguished himself that day, but was very badly wounded.
Inspite of the fact that we had not been able to go as far as we had intended, another glorious victory was to our credit, and we had broken the far-famed Drocourt-Quéant line with its wire entanglements which the Germans had thought to be impregnable. Two days afterwards, on September 4th, our Division was taken out of the line and sent back for rest and reorganization.
Our Divisional Headquarters were now established in the delightful old château at Warlus. In Nissen huts near-by, were the machine-gun battalion and the signallers, and, as I had one end of a Nissen hut all to myself, I was very comfortable. The three infantry brigades were quartered in the villages round about. The engineers and artillery were still at the front. As usual our men soon cleaned themselves up and settled down to ordinary life, as if they had never been through a battle in their lives. The weather was very pleasant, and we were all glad at the prospect of a little quiet after the strenuous month through which we had passed. Our concert party at once opened up one of the large huts as a theatre, and night after night their performances were witnessed by crowded and enthusiastic audiences. Just across a field towards Bernaville the 15th Battalion was quartered in a long line of huts and in the village itself were the 14th and 16th Battalions. I was therefore quite near the men of my old 3rd Brigade. The 16th Battalion concert party gave a fine performance there one evening, which was attended by some Canadian Sisters who came up from one of our C.C.S's. The play was called, "A Little Bit of Shamrock," and was composed by members of the concert party. It was exceedingly pretty and very clever, and evoked thunders of applause. The Colonel was called upon for a speech, and, although his words were few, the rousing cheers he got from his men told him what they thought of their commanding officer, who soon afterwards was to be awarded the Victoria Cross. As one sat there in the midst of the men and thought of what they had gone through, and how the flames in the fiery furnace of war had left their cheery souls unscathed, one's heart was filled with an admiration for them which will never die.
On looking over my diary during those delightful days while we were waiting to make the great attack, I see records of many journeys to our various battalions and artillery brigades. Wanquetin, Wailly, Dainville, Bernaville, Hautes Avesnes—what memories thesenames recall! I would rattle over the dusty roads in my side-car and pull up at Battalion Headquarters and get an invitation to dinner. On such occasions I used to visit the cooks first and ask them if they had enough food on hand for me in case the officers invited me to dine with them, and in case they didn't, if they (the cooks) would feed me later on in the kitchen. When the invitation had been given, I used to go back to the cooks and say, "It's all right, boys, you won't be bothered with my society, the officers have asked me to dinner." In the evening, before I rode off, I used to go round to the men's billets, or to the Y.M.C.A. tent, if there was one, and have a talk with the men on the war outlook or any other topic that was perplexing them at the time. Often I was followed to my car by some man who had deeper matters to discuss, or perhaps some worry about things at home, and who wanted to unburden himself to a chaplain. On the way back, when darkness had fallen and my feeble headlight warned us against speeding, I would meet or overtake men and have a talk, or tell them to mount up on the box at the back of the car and I would give them a ride. The rows of tall trees along the road would stand out black against the starlit sky, and in the evening air the sweet smells of nature would fill us with delight. We felt too, that nearer and nearer the hour of the great victory was approaching. Who amongst us would be spared to see it? How would it be brought about? What great and fierce battle would lay the Germans low? The supreme idea in the mind was consecration to a sublime sacrifice, which dwarfed into insignificance all previous events in life. We had our fun, we had our jokes, we met our friends, we saw battalions go on a route march, we watched men play their games in the fields; but to me it seemed that a new and mysterious light that was born of heaven hid behind the sunshine, and cast a glory upon men and even nature. To dine at the rude board table with the young officers of one of the companies of a battalion, perhaps in a bare hut, on the floor of which lay the lads' beds, was something sacred and sacramental. Their apologies for the plainness of the repast were to me extremely pathetic. Was there a table in the whole world at which it was a greater honour to sit? Where could one find a nobler, knightlier body of young men?
In the garden round the Château at Warlus were many winding paths, where old trees gave a delightful shade. Here at odd moments onecould get away for a time into the leafy solitude and think quietly and wonder. Although we were in rest there was of course no remission of warlike activity and preparation. We knew that the next thing that lay before us was the crossing of the Canal du Nord and the push to Cambrai. That was a deed which would not only tax our strength and courage, but depended for its success upon the care and diligence of our preparation.
On the two Sundays that we were at Warlus I had splendid church parades with the Machine-Gun Battalion. Part of their billets were in huts beside the road to Dainville. In one of them one night I found some Imperial officers who were in charge of the wireless telegraph station. They told me some interesting facts about their work. The night was divided into different periods when the communiqués of the various countries would be sent out. These, of course, were for all the world to read. The most wonderful thing they told me, however, was that they could pick up the code messages sent from the German Admiralty Headquarters at Kiel to their submarines under the sea. Of course not knowing the code, our officers could not translate these despatches.
I received a great blow at this time, for my friend Lyons, who acted as the chauffeur of my side-car, was sent off to the 3rd Division to replace one of the despatch riders whom they had lost in the attack. Our own signallers could not give me another man. As I could not run the car myself, a sudden move might compel me to leave it behind. Someone, too, might appropriate it, for the honesty of the army was, as I knew from experience, a grace on which one could not place much reliance. The only person to whom I could apply was my good and kind friend, the builder of my churches and huts, Colonel Macphail, our C.R.E. He was always my refuge in distress. He looked upon the building of churches at the front as an act of such piety that it would guarantee to him at any time the certain admission into heaven. He attributed his piety to the claim which his clan made to be the descendants of St. Paul. Apparently in Gaelic, Macphail means "the son of Paul." The Colonel was always fond of insisting upon his high lineage. He came to see me once when I was ill at Bruay, and after stating the historical claims of his ancestors, asked me if I had not observed some traits in his character which were like those of St. Paul. I told him that the only resemblance to the Apostle which I had discovered in him wasthat his bodily presence was weak and his speech contemptible. In spite of those unkind thrusts, however, the colonel manifested the Apostle's quality of forgiveness, and was always ready to try and make me comfortable. I wrote to him now and asked if he could send me a driver for my car. He did not fail me. A few days afterwards, a young sapper appeared, saluted most properly, and told me that he had been ordered by the C.R.E. to report to me for duty as chauffeur. I was so delighted that I at once despatched the following letter to my friend:—