Chapter LXXXVBerneville Again
“When they had a day or two of good sleep, regular meals and rest, they seemed quickly to forget all they had suffered, even their mental torture. Of course, for this purpose the rest had to be real rest, undisturbed by enemy shells and bombs, and, if possible, somewhere where the thunder of the guns could not be heard.”
I quote these words from the second volume of “Out of My Life” by Von Hindenburg, for they apply to all soldiers. The Germans had retreated to the opposite bank of the Canal du Nord, where they were prepared to defend themselves stoutly. To carry a position like the Canal du Nord, careful plans must firstbe made. Our troops were tired, and they needed a rest; therefore, on being relieved we came out to the areas about Arras and the Sixteenth came to Berneville.
“The operations which broke the Drocourt Quéant Line closed with the departure of the victors. These men had accomplished great deeds. They had won a great moral victory, which had far-reaching effects. They had conquered a trench system of which the world had spoken with bated breath in one triumphant rush. Many material things had passed from the enemy’s possession into theirs. Among these should be numbered eight thousand prisoners, sixty-five guns and four hundred and seventy-five machine-guns. Their line was only seven miles from Cambrai.” (From “The Canadians in France,” by Captain Harwood Steel—Copp Clark Co.)
The above quotation was written of us. So we came out to Berneville to rest. Those days of September were very pleasant at Berneville. Roses still bloomed in the garden of the old curé, with whom I was again billeted; grapes were plentiful all over the countryside. They grew in the garden of the old house where we had our mess and often they were served at our meals. Every morning when I came back from breakfast to my billet I found on the table a large yellow, red-cheeked pear. These little acts of kindness of the old curé’s sister used to affect me almost to tears. I think the awful strain of battle was beginning to affect us all. I said Mass every morning in the church and a young fellow from the Fifteenth—which was also quarteredin Berneville—used to serve it. Every morning he went to Holy Communion.
The old sister of the curé seemed very much interested in the young man, for she also attended my Mass and received Holy Communion daily. She used to talk to me about him and say he must be a brother from some religious community. So one morning I asked the lad his name. He was James Diamond, and his home was in Philadelphia—another of my Canadian lads who hailed from the United States. He was not a member of any religious community though he had two brothers who were priests. I told the old lady this, and although she was somewhat disappointed to learn that the young man was not a religious, still she was delighted to know that he had two brothers who were priests.
I visited my battalions every day and we had confessions every evening. The men came in great numbers. Although we were in rest, the lads knew by the training they were undergoing that another attack was imminent.
During the day I often walked up and down the old rose garden of the curé. It was a beautiful old garden with high stone walls, against which pear trees and peach trees had been trained to grow so that the branches spread out against the wall. There were roses here of almost every variety. Often, as I walked up and down the paths of the garden reading my Breviary, I stopped and gazed for a long time on the wonderful beauty before me. Soon we would be into the war again!