A Narrow EscapeA Narrow EscapeA shell entered the tree above these officers' heads, but failed to explode.ToList
A Narrow EscapeA shell entered the tree above these officers' heads, but failed to explode.ToList
The command devolved for the time being upon a worthy successor, Major Odlum.
At dusk I checked up the casualties over the telephone and I learned that we had only a total of forty-seven for the strenuous twenty-four hours, and that most of these were in the trenches of St. Julien. Lieutenant Vernon Jones and Lieutenant Barwick came along with their men, and they helped to take double rations and ammunition to the left flank company commanded by Major Osborne. They were ordered to close the rear of the redoubts with sandbags so as to save their men from enfilade fire which they were sure to get in the morning, as soon as the enemy had discovered that the 13th had retired to take up a new line. During the attack at noon the 13th had their line pierced at one point and a machine gun belonging to the Germans was brought through and put into position in a farm house surrounded by a moat in the rear of their lines. From this farmhouse the Germans weregiving them all kinds of trouble, and it was to relieve this pressure chiefly that they were ordered to retire. The suggestion to bomb the Germans out was not practicable. Our guns were too few to cope with the powerful German artillery, although well served.
Company Sergeant-Major De Harte came up from the trenches along with the ration party at eight o'clock and told me the story of the gassing and bombing in the morning. When the Germans sent their gas over the wind was too high and it blew over the top of the trenches. The 48th waited until it passed over, then as soon as the gas and shelling ceased they manned the parapets knowing that an attack was coming. The whistle blew and the Ross rifle rang out a deadly hail that tumbled the Germans in heaps and sent them scurrying like rabbits for shelter.
The Huns gave us no more trouble during the afternoon and the men were confident of their ability to cope with any force that might come against them. Word came through to be sure and hold our trenches at all costs as help was coming. This message was sent direct to the trench line. Major Osborne asked me what would happen if the ammunition ran out. I told him the standing orders of the trenches were that we must use our side arms. Our standing orders read as follows:
"All ranks must realize the exact nature of the duty they are called upon to perform for the moment and must not exceed this duty. This duty is to hold the trenches at present handed over to their care at all costs against all comers, and on no account to give up the line. If attacked the men must continue firing and remain at their posts. If the enemy endeavors to rush the parapets the men will use their bayonets. Any of the enemy who make their way into the trenches must be bayonetted. The regiment is provided with ample supports in the rear. Any of the enemy who gets beyond our trenches will be taken care of by the supports. Each man must fire low and steadily."
As the night closed down the heavens were lit with the German flares and the lurid flashes from their guns. I took a long look over the battle line and I confess I thought our chances of ever getting out were very slim. The German flares crossed each other in the heavens behind us. In our left rear, and all around to the right rear, I could see the angry red flashes of the thousands of guns they were directing against our devoted defenders. I began counting the batteries, but after I had reached a hundred I concluded they had enough. Almost every calibre of gun was being used against us, from the great seventeen inch Austrian siege mortars they were firing at Ypres and Poperinghe behind us, to the nine, seven, six, five, four and three-inch high explosive shells that were filling the air with their fiendish notes.
Bayonets, brawn and bull-dog courage were all we had to match against all the resources of chemistry and mechanics of our enemies. They might poison us, destroy us or take a bit of the line here and there, but take the city of Ypres—not that summer, not so long as a Canadian arm was left to defend the stricken salient.
At twelve o'clock that night I checked up my sketch of our position after having a bowl of soup in Major Marshall's dugout. The second brigade line was untouched. So was the 48th. The 13th were withdrawn from their trenches and were digging in along the slope on our left flank. One company of the Buffs, one of the 5th and two companies of the 14th were mixed up in the line here, along with the three companies of the 7th that were consolidating their trenches along the Poelcapelle Road towards St. Julien where they linked up with the 48th, 13th and 14th Companies of the garrison. From the left flank of St. Julien, the 3rd Toronto Regiment, two companies, joined up with the 10th and 16th at St. Julien Wood. Then came Geddes' British Brigade, and on their left the 13th British Brigade under Brigadier-General R. Wanless O'Gowan. This brigade arrived in the afternoon from Hill60. It was made up of what was left of the tired 1st West Kents, 2nd King's Own Borderers, 2nd York Light Infantry, 2nd West Riding, 9th London, all from the 5th Division that had lost half their officers at the crater blown up by Captain Perry. Next came the 1st and 4th Canadians, and then the French troops held as far as the canal.
There had been little or no change during the day. The honor of holding the dangerous angle of the great salient at Ypres had fallen to the lot of the Canadians. The Red Watch held the danger point, the toe. It was our duty to hang on and die to the last man until help came and the French line was reconstituted as it was when the French Turcos broke before the deadly gas. Like typical Highlanders we were the "Forlorn Hopes" of the Empire.
It was away after two o'clock in the morning when the shelling died down a bit in our front. I threw myself down in the dugout and fell asleep. I slept with revolver ready and boots on and got in a few winks. I was awakened at about a quarter to four by loud talking and the roar of guns. I jumped up and turned out to get a glimpse of what was going on in the trenches in front. I met Capt. Dansereau, who told me the Germans were again trying to gas the 48th. True enough, in the grey dawn a heavy yellow pall hung over our trenches and there was a sweet pungent smell of chlorine in the air. The two platoons that were in dugouts were at once sent to their stations in the supporting trenches. Major Marshall and Capt. Dansereau went into the trenches with them, while Lieutenant Shoenberger and I remained at the dugout trench at the telephone. There was a slight lull in the cannonading for a few minutes, then the German guns began to speak in louder and more insistent tones. I looked around the salient, shaped like a man's right foot, of which we were the toe, and hundreds of batteries seemed to be turned on our trenches, both front and supporting. Again and again salvos of "coal boxes" fell in succession along the parapet. Talk about Neuve Chapelle, we were getting ourown back with interest. All the German batteries were concentrated on our parapets and the trenches held by our regiment. Pandemonium reigned along the front line of trenches. The Germans followed up their gasses again with intense rifle and machine gun fire. Up and down along the parapets of the redoubts the shells kept dropping, throwing up huge pyramids of black smoke fifty feet in the air. These blasts resembled rows of black trees or fountains. How anything could live in that seething vortex, created by the bursting high explosive shells, is a mystery. Many a brave Highlander would see the lone shielings and the misty mountains of Canada no more. All this time the Germans were industriously shelling the dugouts and supporting trenches where our supports were located and along the Gravenstafel Ridge. Huge shells fell like hail. Those that failed to burst in the air exploded the minute they struck the hard untilled clay of the fallow fields and fragments flew in every direction. One fell on the roadway about twenty feet away from me. Two men who were standing under cover of the broken wall of the windmill crumpled up like green leaves in a forest fire. They were done for. They were giving us a double "curtain of fire" as well as the death dealing gasses.
A piece of the same shell struck Lieutenant Shoenberger, my signalling officer, who stood close beside me, and he fell. He said never a word, but in a trice had his knife out, cut off his puttee and looked at his ankle. The bone was broken. Before I could give him a hand he had his first aid bandage out and tied up the wound himself. I offered to send a man with him to the dressing station a quarter of a mile back, but he said he would crawl down on his hands and knees all right and that every man would be needed in the trenches. He was quite cool and collected and did not show any sign of fear. I felt very sorry for him.
Nearly a century ago Admiral Lord Cochrane, a man of wonderful scientific knowledge, advanced a project to the British Government for a terrible and unseen agent whichcould be used against an enemy, and which was so destructive and powerful it would render their armies helpless. That secret was asphyxiating gas. His plan was on the field of battle when the wind was favorable to build large fires with tar and damp straw behind which an attack could be prepared. Then sulphur was to be thrown on these burning piles so as to produce gas, which blowing over the enemy would render them helpless. This would not produce a poisonous gas. It would only be an asphyxiating gas that would knock a man out for a while. Still the British had refused to use this secret.
In 1913 German scientists at the German Headquarters Staff had experimented with sulphur, chlorine and bromine fumes. They reported on sulphur gas: "This gas thus produced acts as an irritant on the lungs and eyes, and thence it is adapted to render the enemy incapable of resistance, but is not poisonous, and in that way its use in war is not contrary to international right." They had in view Article 23 of the rules of conducting hostilities promulgated by the second Hague Conference to which they had subscribed, which specifically prohibits "the use of poisons and poisonous arms" and "the use of arms, projectiles and material destined to produce useless suffering." The Germans could have used sulphur gas just as well as chlorine gas, but sulphur was not poisonous, and would not kill; chlorine and bromine would.
We had just learned that they were using red phosphorus in their shells, and that any particle of that chemical that got into a wound would set up gangrene from which hundreds of soldiers died in terrible agony. We had surmised that they were in the habit of dipping their rifle bullets in red phosphorus solution because where they struck the men's clothing they invariably started even the wool clothing burning. That was the case at St. Julien Wood where, according to the stories brought back by the men, they had foully crucified a sergeant belonging to our brigade on a barn door. He belonged to our bombing section.
The sun was shining a red rim on the horizon in the east.The sickly green clouds of the gas appeared denser in some places than others. The wind was just right for the infernal curtain that gradually drew over the trenches. The thickest pall was blown against the right of our line between McGregor's company and the left of the 8th Battalion, where there was an open space protected only by a small trench and barbed wire. Of those on our right hardly a man was left to tell the tale.
All those who stuck to the trench and did not use wet bandoliers or handkerchiefs died. Some tried to get out, only to fall stricken with the deadly vapor before they had gone many yards. Among these was Lieut. Taylor, an Oxford scholar, one of the best athletes in the First Division. He won out of the trench only to die on the Gravenstafel Ridge. Company Sergeant-Major Hermitage and his brother Sergeant Hermitage were stricken down also but managed to crawl out. The latter lost the use of his vocal chords for some time. They were burned with the fatal gas. Lieutenant Mavor, who was in this section, fell, but they managed to get him out before he succumbed. Some of the men fell back to the left to a communicating trench which they held till the German infantry attack came when they rallied to the parapets and drove the Germans out with their bayonets.
A very dense cloud of gas was directed against the centre of our line and Captain McLaren was one of the first to fall. Some of his men succeeded in getting him out. For days his life was despaired of, and his lungs were scarred for ever. Lieutenant Maxwell Scott, of Abbotsford, kindred of the great Sir Walter, author of Waverley, one of the finest officers in our battalion, fell from the effects of the fumes. They succeeded in getting him out also. His life was dispaired of.
The only thing the soldiers had to stave off the poisonous gas were their wet handkerchiefs or wet bandoliers where they happened to have them. Pads and masks were not then known or issued.
My lungs were sore for months from the gas we got at the village of St. Julien and here, which was a second dose.
When the German attack came many of the men had fallen. Others were too weak to fight, but there were still some left and they counter attacked and drove the Germans out of the trenches with the bayonet. The fighting was very strenuous while it lasted. It was a case of butt or point whichever came handiest. I noticed a number of men straggling back through on our right and went over to see what was the trouble, thinking that they were retiring without orders. I found, however, they were all badly gassed and wounded so they could be of no further help. Those who were able to shoot were halted and put into the supporting trenches, over which the Germans were putting a curtain of fire filled with asphyxiating gasses which smelled like ten thousand "camphor balls turned loose," as one man said, as he turned sick with the gas and smell.
When the Germans were driven off they again turned their guns and rifles on the brave few who were hanging on. Captain McGregor went down with a wound in the head, but he still kept on using his rifle till a second bullet laid him low. Lieutenant Langmuir, revolver in hand, fell after he had killed eight of the foe. He had more than evened the score at the head of his platoon. Smith and Macdonald fought like lions. Again and again they charged the Germans with the bayonet. Lieutenant Bath, a quiet and mild mannered youth, greatly distinguished himself. Captain McKessock was operating his machine guns like mad. One of the guns he turned over to "Rolly" Carmichael, the tallest man in the regiment, a daredevil who did not know the meaning of fear. With a wound in his shoulder McKessock took one gun out of the forward line, mounted it in rear of a ruin about two hundred feet behind its original position and began ripping holes through the German ranks that were appalling. He was finally overcome from loss of blood. Major Osborne, badly gassed, fought on with a wound in the shoulder till a bullet caught him in the face. He was put into a communication trench from which he directed his men.
The line held against the first attack. Although the Germans broke through in several places they were driven back and paid a fearful price for their daring.
The gasses rolled to the supporting trenches and made life unbearable. The pungent smell was awful. Shells and rifle fire were forgotten in the scorching livid breath of the chlorine. Scores of men died where they stood. Some tried to crawl away. The bearers brought some out from the front line, but when I examined their pulses I found them dead. Poor fellows, their features were distorted and their faces livid. Blood-tainted froth clung to their lips. Their skins were mottled blue and white. They were a heartbreaking sight to behold.
Chlorine gas killed! No wonder the poor ignorant Turcos fled. But the indomitable "Red Watch" held on.
The sun rose from a lurid red sea in the east. It was now daylight and five German aeroplanes of the Albatross pattern rose in the German lines and started boldly across our territory. Our machine guns spoke against the flying observer, and I knew that Captain McKessock's guns had still a few kicks left. The stream of wounded and gassed men continued. Many of them could hardly make their way along on their hands and knees. The gas affected some of them so they did not recognize anyone. They afterwards fancied they had been in the front line for days.
The poisonous gasses affected the brain as well as the lungs. Then we realized the full enormity of the gas attack of the enemy. It was not a gas that would knock a man out that they were giving us, but a poisonous gas that would kill.
It was half past six o'clock before the German infantry again tried to force our redoubts.
The gas, shell fire, enfilading fire and machine gun fire they fancied had again done their work, and they ventured out of their trenches and charged against the centre of our line. They broke through between some redoubts in Captain McLaren's line, but the men rallied and drove them out againwith the bayonet. The "chop chop" of the Ross rifle told us that there was still plenty of fight in the front line.
The Royal Highlanders on our left and the "Buffs" were attacked at the same time. The German machine guns in the farmhouse were playing havoc with the men in the shallow "dig ins" which they had made the previous night, but the Highlanders held on like grim death. Shells filled with asphyxiating gas were fired at us, and whole squads of men in the supporting trenches were wiped out at each salvo, which consisted usually of four huge shells.
A message from Major Osborne stated that there was a possibility of a shortage of ammunition and he asked for orders and supports. I was sorry to have to tell him that the 48th were to "hold on to the last, and if ammunition gave out to use the bayonet, to hold the redoubts to the end. If the Germans broke through to drive them out with the bayonet."
Orders were issued that the wounded were to get first aid, but were not to be carried out. We needed every rifle and man, and could no longer spare stretcher bearers.
Help was expected, but it was just as dangerous to retire as to hold the forts. We were holding the enemy back and any minute the British might come.
I do not know whether my message got through to him, but I do know that he and his fellow officers carried out the orders.
The Automatic Colt 45, which all the Canadian officers carried, is a good weapon at close quarters. Its bullet would stop an ox, but there is a limit to the rounds that can be fired. In a hard close scuffle, there is nothing like a stout rifle and a long sharp bayonet. I picked one up that had been dropped by a wounded man. It was an excellent weapon, better at close quarters than my claymore. The knowledge learned in the old Toronto Fencing Club of how to lunge and parry was to stand me in good stead during that awful morning. Thearme blancheis not to be despised, and when you are at it hand to hand you are relieved from shell fire.
I afterwards gave the rifle to Sergeant Coe, the bravest ofmany brave men, who carried it when he fell at the head of his platoon in the immortal charge on the orchard at Festubert.
About nine o 'clock the German aeroplanes again came along and took another good look at our position. A white flare was dropped over the bit of trench held by Major Marshall, a platoon of forty odd men with a machine gun and crew, that had again and again raked the German trenches. About twenty howitzers immediately opened fire on that unfortunate trench, and how any of them escaped was a mystery, for they seemed to get the range to a dot. Company Sergeant-Major Vernon, one of my best non-commissioned officers, had his head completely blown off with a piece of shell. Sergeant Angus Ferguson, veteran of India, Egypt and Africa, was shot in the arm and leg. He was left for dead. Later the diabolical Huns captured him, and on his raising an objection to having his leg amputated gave him his choice of that or being shot. They amputated his leg above the knee without even administering an anaesthetic, but he lived to return to Toronto and tell the tale.
A number of the machine gunners were killed and wounded. Lieutenant Dansereau, my adjutant, was struck in the head with a piece of shell and everyone thought he was finished. Word was brought to me to that effect, and I felt as if I had lost my own son. Sergeant Flood of the machine gun section stood by his piece as long as possible, but finally a shell smashed the mount and this piece of trench became untenable. The pitiful remnant of the platoon, now consisting of seven men with Major Marshall, had to find a place to the right of the supporting trenches where they kept on fighting. The Germans had broken through on our left and were trying to force our supporting trenches.
Major Marshall and the few that were left with him spotted a platoon of the enemy advancing in their front about one hundred feet away, led by a man who they thought carried a white flag. He wore a blue coat and looked like a Frenchsoldier. They thought at first that it was a bunch of Turcos or of Germans wanting to surrender. They opened fire, and the man with the white disk turned and started running back and they saw that the other side of the disk bore the ominous black cross. He was a marker for their artillery. He did not run far. Marshall had a rifle and bayonet and knew how to use them. On our left Lieutenant Colonel Burland of Montreal took charge of the 14th and fought rifle in hand. He greatly distinguished himself.
All this time a miserable Hun was playing on our trenches from the left rear with a machine gun.
Between our forward position and St. Julien, a short distance northwest of the Poelcapelle Road, a number of farm buildings had been seized by the Germans when the Turcos fled the first night, and they had placed their Maxims in the upper windows and were trying their level best all the time to get us in the back.
"Look out!" called Lt.-Colonel Burland of Montreal to me.
"You make the hair stand up on my head. That 'blighter' has followed you up and down with his machine gun all morning, and it is a mystery to me how he manages to miss you."
"Well, you're a machine gunner too, and you know he traverses the Maxim after me by patting it on the cheek. I just step short two paces and he goes on."
This answer brought a roar of laughter from the grim warriors in the trenches. The sorry part of it was that that "blighter" in trying to get me had shot several other men.
All morning long the Germans had been trying to take St. Julien. The German artillery south of Zonnebeke sent a storm of shell, raking the rear of the trenches held by our troops from end to end with high explosives. In front of the trenches machine guns hidden in barns and houses ripped the top of the parapets of the hastily-formed trenches held by the Toronto Regiment.
Here Lieutenant "Bill" Jarvis of Toronto died the death of a hero. Medland, another of the Toronto boys much loved by his men, was hit. They were in a trench that was very much exposed which formed the connecting link between the battalion which held the wood north of brigade headquarters and the line of the 3rd Brigade before St. Julien.
"Bill" Jarvis, as he was affectionately known by all ranks in his battalion, had been struck the day before with splinters of shrapnel in the ankle. He was not disabled, and instead of going to the hospital he tied his emergency bandage over his wounds and "carried on." With a half dozen men he wasordered to clear a bunch of German snipers out of a house. When he got there he had only one man left, but the job was done and thoroughly done at that. Fearless to a fault, up and down the line he went during the night of Friday and Saturday morning. He was cut across the chest with a fragment of shell and had a bullet wound through his shoulder, still he refused to leave. Finally he sat down in his trench never to rise again. During the night he had carried a number of wounded to the dressing station but neglected to have his own wounds dressed. He fought as gallantly as his ancestors fought at Chippewa and Lundy's lane. A stern sense of duty kept him in the trenches when he should have been in the hospital. He gave his life for others. There was mourning among the sailing fraternity in Toronto, and Ridley College, Canada, half masted its flag in memory of the famous Cadet Captain who gave his life so freely on the Plains of Flanders.
All day long the tide of battle surged back and forward along the front line of trenches. Dearly the Germans were made to pay for every foot of frontage. Again and again they charged and were driven back. Then the hell of shell fire would be redoubled and preparation made for a fresh attack. With only a few guns in support it was very difficult to hold our own. When would the supporting troops and artillery come? For two days and two nights we had fought against odds of at least ten to one in men and fifty to one in artillery. The tragic monotony of it all was awful, but the honor of the Empire rested in our hands and it was our duty to play the game to the last man. Every few moments the shell fire and machine guns of the enemy would claim a victim.
Two brave men, Sergeant Coe and Private M.J. O'Connor, signallers, went into the machine gun trench, which was on our extreme left behind a hedge, to bring out Captain Dansereau's body. I also told them to bring back any papers which were left in the shelled and ruined dugout. Through the hurricane of shot and shell that tore the earth up in alldirections they made their way. When they returned they told me that the bit of trench was almost filled with dead but they could not find my adjutant. When they went to the dugout to get my papers they found it wrecked and the maps and papers gone. Then I knew that my adjutant must have recovered consciousness sufficiently to get my papers, among them some maps, and that he must have got out, badly wounded as he was. He was the fourth officer of my staff to be wounded, and Major Marshall and Dr. MacKenzie were the only two left of our headquarters staff.
Early that morning while we were in the midst of some very strenuous fighting a message came down from headquarters to the effect that it had been reported that the "48th Battalion had been gassed and compelled to retire." The "fusser" and liar lives even on the battlefield. This story had been told by some runaway to give an excuse for his own cowardice.
I sent a message back that this report was untrue. Our telephone lines and telephone station had been blown up by a "coal box," so we had to depend upon runners to get messages through. One of these, Pte. M.R. Kerr, later on sent me a message from the hospital to the effect that he had taken a message through for me but had been struck by a shell on his way back with the receipt and had to be taken to the hospital. He apologised for not returning to report the message delivered. I recommend him for the D.C.M.
The left flank sections of the 8th had been gassed when the Germans tried to get through between that battalion and ours. Some of their supports had come to their assistance and had driven the enemy back and reconstituted the line. They were supported by a remnant of the gallant 10th. In the early morning of Saturday this undaunted battalion had been withdrawn from St. Julien Wood where they had earned undying glory. After rallying about two hundred and seventy men they marched down to our assistance but were diverted to our right. We heard shortly after noon through runners thattwo battalions of British troops, the Yorks and Durhams, were on their way down to assist us in a counter attack, but these corps did not arrive until later in the afternoon. They were raw troops only out that day from England. In coming down to Fortuyn they came in open order and the German "curtain of fire" took heavy toll.
Map of the BATTLE OF ST JULIAN April 22nd May 4th 1915. Position April 30th 7 A.M.The Salient FlattenedToList
The Salient FlattenedToList
After the first attack the Germans settled down to a steady diet of shelling and machine gun fire. I noticed men coming back to both flanks of our supporting trenches, so I went over to rally them and put those that were not incapacitatedin with the few of our platoons that were left. In the rear of the right flank of the 7th I saw some men gathered behind a ruined house at a place we called Enfiladed crossroads and went over to see who they were. The moment I stepped out of my trench a German machine gunner got after me and I could hear the "swish swish" of the bullets a few feet in front of me. I realized that death was very near, so I stepped short and let him get his range a little ahead of me. His gun followed me for a hundred yards. I found Captain Victor Currie there trying to get the wounded away from the dressing station. Major Odlum, with a few of the remnant of the brave 7th, came along. Some of his men who were gassed were coming back and he was getting a trifle alarmed about his front companies as the enemy were launching attack after attack on St. Julien on his left. I told him to tell his companies to hang on till the last on the left and at the same time to take all the stragglers and put them into the trenches in rear of his left company as support. The ground on his right which I had crossed was badly enfiladed. Lieut.-Colonel Burland came along, having put all the men he could muster into our supporting trenches. He had been struck on the chest with a spent fragment of a "coal box" which had bowled him over, but he was still full of fight. When I started back across the Kerrserlaere Zonnebeke road for our trenches a short distance east, a devilish machine gun again got after me and followed me to the shelter of the dugout in which a number of the wounded had been placed. As I entered the door of the dugout half a dozen bullets pattered on the timber prop of the low doorway not a foot from my head. After seeing to the comfort of the wounded I started back along the trench, and my old friend the "German gunner" again took a crack at me. He certainly had it in for me that day. He caught a sergeant of the Royal Montreals a few feet away from me and he fell, shot in the spine. But a Merciful hand protected me. My hour had not come.
The companies of the 13th, 14th and 7th on our left werehanging on to their trenches like demons. The men in our forward trenches, subjected to a torrent of shot and shell after driving the enemy back and losing half their number, were still fighting valiantly. From a sap at the rim of the ridge I could see our torn trenches still occupied by a few intrepid men. I could hear the "chop chop" of the rifles as they drove off the Germans, who had now resorted to open formation to try and win our forward trench. Six ranks deep the German marines had come on to take our trenches. We did not know at first that we were opposed to the German Navy but we were. The marines had been brought down from the fleet to take our trenches and see some fighting. They paid a good price for their curiosity. One of our machine guns is credited with putting over four hundred of them out of business.
Behind the German position I could see the fields filled with great masses of troops formed up ready to be launched against us. God help the heroes that day in the forward lines! Few of them would return to Toronto or the green plains of Canada. I did not know then that the German Emperor was standing on the slope behind Poelcapelle watching his hosts trying to break through the thin Canadian line. Every time the foe fell back discomfited they turned the full fury of their thousands of guns on our front line. Volleys of shells fell in rapid succession along the thin French parapets. One would think that no human creature could live in the tremendous blasts and the showers of steel fragments from the high explosive shells that flew screaming through the air in every direction like mad things.
But the bond of an iron discipline still held the Canadians, not a sound came from the tortured trenches. When the guns were turned upon the parapets and a perfect deluge of bullets would rip through the sandbags and send the clay clattering down the osiers of the hurdles and willow gabions, there would come no response from the Canadian trenches, not a shot would be fired. Plucking up courage the Huns, with muchhesitation, would emerge from their "funk holes," as our men called their trenches, port arms and start across the "devil's strip," hoping that the whirlwind of shells had despatched the last of the "white devils" from Canada. But no! They would only make about ten yards when the "warning whistles" of the dauntless Canadians would sound, and then the roar of rapid fire would rise. It was not for idle pastime our men had practised night and day with dummy cartridges going through the motions of loading and firing. The attacking lines would fall in whole sections, in many cases one bullet killing two or three men. The rifle fire of the Canadian marksmen was exceedingly deadly. Every bullet found a billet. Groans and cries from the dying and wounded Germans would reach us. We could hear distinctly the hoarse shouts of their officers as they ordered "Vorwarts, Vorwarts, Schneller," while the poor unfortunate privates dismayed by the deadly blast would groan "nein, nein." Then we would hear "Wir sollen Ihr lehren Ihre Canadian Schwein! Uns Neuve Chapelle, zu sagen." "We'll teach you Canadian swine to boast about Neuve Chapelle."
Then like one man they would turn and dash madly back to their parapets, leaving the trampled clay of the devil's strip heaped with writhing figures of wounded and dead.
Again and again we scanned the fields in the direction of Fortuyn to see if help was coming. If this process of attrition continued much longer there would be no front line. Meanwhile the German guns searched every foot of ground behind the crest of the Gravenstafel ridge. Every inch of ground that could afford a particle of protection, or was not quite visible, was torn to pieces with their "hi-ex" shells.
"Why are they throwing away so much good ammunition?" my men would ask me.
I knew but did not say anything. On account of the brave way in which our forward lines were fighting, the Germans fancied we had thousands of men in support. If they only knew they could have steam-rollered us. It is part of the gameof war to impose on the enemy and we were carrying out that tradition. It was the biggest bluff Canada ever played.
About noon the Germans began blowing the troops out of the trenches on the right of our supports. I went down again with Lieut. Colonel Burland to the enfiladed crossroads to see what troops were there, and to learn if any word had come through from headquarters. I stopped at the field dressing station and ordered them to get the wounded away as quickly as possible as the enemy were shelling their quarters, evidently with the intention of destroying them. I met Major D.M. Ormond of the 10th who had retired some of the men on his left. He was asked to put his men back into the trenches below the crest of the ridge and hang on. He wanted us to go back with him but that was impossible. He was under the orders of the 2nd Brigade. I told him to direct any of his men who were slightly wounded, but still able to fight, to a line of trenches east of Hennebeke Creek, my idea being that the Germans were having such a tough time with the forward lines that as long as they suspected the crest was held they would not come on. Any troops seen going back to the crest would be taken for reinforcements. I knew that there must be an observation station not far from the German "machine gunner" that was following me and that this station would warn the enemy in our front that we still held the ridge in considerable strength.
This theory proved to be correct, for the supporting trenches then held by us on the ridge were taken over and held by the British troops for days afterwards.
It was late in the afternoon when the din and rifle fire in our front trenches ceased. Not a man came back, so I knew that every one had stood to his post until overwhelmed. About the same time, five o'clock, a blood-stained order reached me to retire the remnant to the Divisional Reserve trenches. By this time the relieving troops could be seen advancing in open order a short distance away. The Germans were still attacking the line held by the Seventh on our left along thePoelcapelle road. I watched them attack in open order at about three paces interval through a turnip field, the officer following behind with a drawn sword. Every time they reached the margin of the turnip patch, which had not been dug up and which was producing a perfect miniature forest of seed shoots, our guns and the 7th rifles would open on them and they would run back for cover. Again and again they persisted until finally the artillery ceased to fire.
As ordered I sent Major Marshall back to the headquarters trenches with what was left of the supporting platoons, some seventy men, and taking several scouts with me we endeavored to convey the order to retire along the line of front trenches. We were fired on and three of my scouts were hit. It will be remembered that the forward line extended about a thousand yards and consisted of a series of redoubts.
A wounded man told us that the redoubts at the east of the line, which had been surrounded by hordes of Saxons and marines for a long time, had been rushed when the ammunition ran out. Our men fought to the end with their bayonets.
The scouts sent down to the right were fired upon and only one of them returned. The Germans fired on Sergeant Coe and myself and tried to intercept us, but some of them would not intercept anybody any more. We got away with whole skins. Not a man or an officer in the redoubts remained unwounded when they were taken prisoner. Those who were not hit had been weakened with gas. It is no disgrace to be wounded and taken prisoner in a rear guard action.
Help was now coming in some strength and the situation was saved. I could see battalion after battalion coming down the Fortuyn road in extended order, and I knew that in a short time there would be an advance of these troops north-easterly towards the Poelcapelle road, closing the dangerous space held by the remnant of the 7th Battalion and taking over our supporting trenches and the crest of the gap along the Gravenstafel ridge to the 8th Batt.
The first troops to arrive were the Suffolks and the 12thLondon Regiment. A few German sharpshooters had crawled through the forward lines and were firing from the crest in two places. On our left the valiant 13th fought in their shallow fire trenches to the last man. Two companies of the 7th hung on to their trenches at the Poelcapelle road until they were overwhelmed by the onrush of Prussians, Saxons and Marine battalions that surrounded them on all sides. The company of "Buffs" that was in support behind the extreme right of the 13th was wiped out. I sent runner after runner along the front trenches but they were fired on and two of them failed to return. I could still hear the row and fighting in front of St. Julien, and the machine guns were going fiercely. I was the last man back. I had borne a charmed life all day, and certainly had a lot to be thankful for.
As we started out for St. Julien I sent some runners ahead of me to notify Captains Alexander and Cory to break off and retire to general headquarters line of trenches as soon as the British troops took over from them. The messengers came back and reported that the village was in the possession of the enemy and that they had been fired upon. Only an hour before I had received a message from Captain Alexander telling me that they were having a pretty tough time, that they were glad to know that I was still safe and that help would be very welcome.
We made several attempts to get into St. Julien but found the Germans held it in considerable force. It was some days later that we learned that Alexander and Cory and a devoted few had held on to the trenches at the northeast angle of the village, although surrounded all that night and part of the next day, Sunday.
On Sunday morning the British troops about daylight launched an attack to recover St. Julien. Four battalions, the Royal Irish Fusiliers, the Dublin Fusiliers, the Seaforth Highlanders and the Warwicks, with the Northumberland brigade in support, tried to retake the village. They found the remnant of the garrison very much alive in the northwestcorner although surrounded by the Germans. They, however, failed to carry the village and save the Canadian garrison.
The 48th had suffered terrible losses along with the other battalions of the 3rd Brigade. The question may be asked why did we hang on. Why did not the Canadians retire when they found the Germans were in such force and determined to take their trenches? Instead they stuck to their redoubts and did not budge. They fought back to back when surrounded and refused to give up, driving the enemy back scores of times, until only about 100 of the 800 in our forward trenches were able to raise a rifle. They had lived up to the best traditions of a Highland Regiment. Had we retired, or had the corps at the angle which connected us retired, Canada would have been disgraced forever.
General Alderson, a couple of weeks later, after he had reviewed the whole situation answered all critics by issuing a general order to all the Canadians from which I quote.
"I think it is possible that you do not, all of you, quite realize that if we had retired on the evening of the 22nd April, when our Allies fell back before the gas and left our left flank quite open, the whole of the 27th and 28th Divisions would probably have been cut off, certainly they would not have got away a gun or a vehicle of any kind and probably not more than half the infantry. This is what our Commander-in-Chief meant when he telegraphed as he did that 'The Canadians had saved the situation.' My lads, if ever men had a right to be proud in this world you have.
"I know my military history pretty well, and I cannot think of an instance, especially when the cleverness and determination of the enemy is taken into account, in which troops were placed in such a difficult position. Nor can I think of an instance in which so much depended on the standing fast of one division.
"You will remember the last time I spoke to you, just before you went into the trenches at Sailly, now over two months ago, I told you about my old regiment, the E. WestKents, having gained a reputation for not budging from their trenches, no matter how heavily they were attacked. I said I was quite sure that in a short time the Army out here would be saying the same of you. I little thought, we none of us thought, how soon those words would come true. But now here, to-day, not only the Army here, but all Canada, all England and all the Empire are saying it of you."
The Canadians held their trenches like the West Kents. The German papers subsequently said that they (the Canadians) fought till their ammunition was gone, then they fought with their bayonets, and still unconquerable they died in the trenches they had dug. Every writer on this battle has given them unstinted praise.
The manner in which they held their trenches fighting to the last with small groups of men, taught a new lesson in tactics to the Allies which later on bore fruit at Verdun.