CANADA IN FLANDERS
BY SIR MAX AITKEN, M.P.
THE OFFICIAL STORY OF THE
CANADIAN EXPEDITIONARY FORCE
VOLUME I.
CANADA IN
FLANDERS
By Sir Max Aitken, M.P.
WITH A PREFACE BY
THE RT. HON. A. BONAR LAW,
M.P., LL.D.,
SECRETARY OF STATE FOR THE COLONIES
AND AN INTRODUCTION BY
THE RT. HON. SIR ROBERT BORDEN,
G.C.M.G., M.P., LL.D.,
PRIME MINISTER OF CANADA
WITH MAPS AND APPENDICES
HODDER AND STOUGHTON
LONDON TORONTO NEW YORK
MCMXVI
FIRST EDITION . . Printed January, 1916.
SECOND EDITION . . Printed January, 1916.
THIRD EDITION . . Printed January, 1916.
FOURTH EDITION . . Printed February, 1916.
FIFTH EDITION . . Printed February, 1916.
SIXTH EDITION . . Printed February, 1916.
SEVENTH EDITION . . Printed February, 1916.
EIGHTH EDITION . . Printed February, 1916.
NINTH EDITION . . Printed February, 1916.
TENTH EDITION . . Printed February, 1916.
TO THE OFFICERS AND MEN
NOW SERVING IN THE CANADIAN
EXPEDITIONARY FORCE IN FLANDERS
AND TO THE MEMORIES OF THOSE
WHO HAVE FALLEN, I DEDICATE
THIS LITTLE BOOK.
PREFACE
BY THE RT. HON. A. BONAR LAW, M.P.
The author of this book is an intimate personal friend, and possibly for that reason I take too favourable a view of his work; but I think he has already rendered a great service, and not to Canada alone.
As Canadian Record Officer, he published a glowing account of the part played in the Battle of Ypres by the Canadian contingent. This account was circulated widely, and it contributed largely to make the deeds of the Canadian soldiers a household word, not only throughout the Dominion, but in the United Kingdom as well.
The present work seems to me a model of lucid, picturesque, and sympathetic narrative, and it will have, I feel sure, a lasting value.
We have a right to feel very proud of the part which is being played in the terrible tragedy of this war by the great Dominions of the British Crown. We had no power to compel any one of them to contribute a single penny, or to send a single man, but they have given of their best, not to help us, though I think they would have done that also, but to defend the Empire which is theirs as much as ours.
Led by a General who a few years ago was in arms against us and who is the Prime Minister of South Africa, the Union Government have wrested from Germany a territory larger than the whole German Empire; and a South African contingent is now in England ready to play their part on the battlefields of Flanders.
The Australians and New Zealanders have shown in the Dardanelles that in courage, resourcefulness, and tenacity better troops have never existed in the world. Whatever the final result of that operation may be, the blood which has been shed there has not been shed in vain. Not to Australians and New Zealanders alone, but to men of every race throughout the British Empire, the Peninsula of Gallipoli will for ever be sacred ground because of the brave men who lie buried there.
"In glory will they sleep, and endless sanctity."
What Canada has done, and is doing, shines out in every page of this book. Higher praise could not be given than was contained in the despatch of the Commander-in-Chief after the Battle of Ypres: "In spite of the danger to which they were exposed, the Canadians held their ground with a magnificent display of tenacity and courage, and it is not too much to say that the bearing and conduct of these splendid troops averted a disaster which might have been attended with most serious consequences."
Our enemies said, and probably they believed, that the outbreak of war would be the signal for the breaking-up of the British Empire. They have been mistaken. After this war the relations between the great Dominions and the Mother Country can never be the same again. The pressure of our enemies is welding us together, and the British Empire is becoming in reality, as well as in name, a united nation.
A. BONAR LAW.
COLONIAL OFFICE,
December 6th, 1915.
INTRODUCTION
BY RT. HON. SIR ROBERT L. BORDEN, G.C.M.G.
More than a year ago the bugles of the Empire sounded throughout the world the call to duty. The justice of the cause was recognised in every quarter of the King's dominions, and nowhere more fully than in Canada; it has since been confirmed by the judgment of the civilised world. Within a week Canada had sprung to arms; within three weeks 35,000 men were marshalled on Valcartier Plain, which had been transformed, as if by magic, into a great military camp; within six weeks from the outbreak of war a Canadian Division, fully organised and equipped in every branch of the service, with a surplus of guns and ammunition nearly sufficient for another Division, and with a detail of reinforcements amounting to 10,000 men, was ready to proceed overseas.
Twice in September of last year I saw these forces march past under review by the Duke of Connaught. Later, I visited every unit of the contingent, addressed their officers, and bade them all God-speed. The Armada which left the shores of Gaspé on October 3rd, 1914, carried the largest army that ever crossed the Atlantic at one time.
In the midst of the following winter they went to the front. Few of them had any previous experience of war. They had lived in a peace-loving country; they had been gathered from the varied avocations of our national life; they had come from the hills and valleys and surf-beaten shores of the Maritime Provinces; from the banks of the St. Lawrence and its hundred affluents in the two great central Provinces; from the mining and lumber camps of the north; from the broad prairie Provinces and their northern hinterlands; from the majesty of the mountains that look to the east upon the prairies and to the west upon the Pacific; from the shores of the great western ocean; from all the far-flung communities of our Dominion they had hurried, quickly responsive to the call.
Almost in the dawn of their experience at the front there came to them an ordeal such as has seldom tested the most tried of veterans. An unknown and terrible means of warfare, which temporarily shattered the gallant forces that held the line at their left, poured upon them torture and death. The bravest and most experienced troops might well have been daunted and driven back by the fierceness of the onslaught to which they were exposed and by the horrible methods of the attack. Assailed by overwhelming numbers on front and flank, the held their own in a conflict which raged for days; they barred the path against the German onrush and saved the day for the Empire, for the Allies and for the world.
The story of their tenacity, their valour, and their heroism has been well told in the pages that follow. But it can never be completely told. Many of those upon whom memories along splendid incidents of that story were indelibly engraven lie beneath the sod in Northern France and in Belgium.
On more than one stricken field the record thus made by the 1st Canadian Division has held good. From the lips of those who fought at Festubert and at Givenchy, from dauntless survivors of the Princess Patricia's Regiment, I have heard, in many a hospital and convalescent home in the Motherland, what their comrades had dared and done.
No Canadian can ever look forth unmoved upon that valley where Ypres lies shattered in the distance, and the sweep of the hills overlooks the graves of more than 100,000 men who fell because a remorseless militarist autocracy decreed this war.
In the years to come it will be the duty and the pride of Canada to rear, both in this Dominion and beyond the ocean, monuments which will worthily commemorate the glorious deeds of her sons who offered the supreme sacrifice for liberty and civilisation.
R. E. BORDEN.
OTTAWA, December 6th, 1915.
"'Carry the word to my Sisters—
To the Queens of the East and the South,
I have proven my faith in the Heritage
By more than the word of the mouth.
They that are wise may follow
Ere the world's war-trumpet blows:
But I—I am first in the battle,'
Said our Lady of the Snows."
—KIPLING.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
I am so conscious of the imperfections of the chapters which follow that I was for long unwilling to publish them in the form of a book. They were written under great difficulties and in many moods; nor am I unaware that the excuse for collecting them is very slender. It was, however, represented to me by persons of much authority, that the subjects dealt with excited an interest so lively in Canada that imperfections in the workmanship would be readily overlooked in the Dominion.
I therefore publish my impressions of the fortunes of the 1st Canadian Division and of Princess Patricia's Regiment. Some of the scenes described fell in whole, or in part, under my own observation. In dealing with others I have had access, in the discharge of my duties, to a large number of military diaries and official documents.
It may be stated that the greatest care is being taken by the Canadian Government to collect and preserve every authoritative document which may hereafter throw light upon the military history of the Canadian Expeditionary Force. Nor is there reason to doubt that the official historian of Canada (whoever he may prove to be) will find abundant material for a grave and adequate work. Perhaps such a one may find here and there in these hurriedly written pages a contemporary echo, however faint and elusive, of the clash and passion of war which the author has attempted to describe.
I shall be content if one Canadian woman draws solace from this poor record of her dead husband's bravery; if even one reader recognises for the first time the right of the Canadians to stand as equals in the Temple of Valour with their Australian brothers who fought and died at Anzac; if the task of consolidating our Imperial resources, which may be the one positive consequence of this orgy of destruction, counts one adherent the more among those who have honoured me by reading these records.
And of Englishmen I ask nothing but that they shall hereafter think of my countrymen as "Brothers in whom a man trusts even if a great quarrel arises."
W. M. AITKEN.
CONTENTS
MOBILISATION
War without warning—Canada's loyalty—Improvising an Army—Efforts of the Minister of Militia—Camp at Valcartier—Canadian Armada sails—Arrival at Plymouth—Lord Roberts's interest—King's visit to Canadian Camp—Training completed—Sailing for France
WARFARE
"Plug Street"—British Army in being—At General Headquarters—Rest billets—Mud or death—The trenches—Buzzing bullets—Sir Douglas Haig—The Front—Restrictions on the narrative—Reviewed by Commander-in-Chief—Canadians in the trenches—Our men take to football—"Jack Johnsons"—A German challenge—General Alderson—The General's methods—His speech to the Canadians—A fine Force
NEUVE CHAPELLE
Canadians' valuable help—A ride in the dark—Pictures on the road—Towards the enemy—At the cross-roads—"Six kilometres to Neuve Chapelle"—Terrific bombardment—Grandmotherly howitzers—British aeroplanes—Fight with a Taube—Flying man's coolness—Attack on the village—German prisoners—A banker from Frankfort—The Indians' pride—A halt to our hopes—Object of Neuve Chapelle—What we achieved—German defences under-rated—Machine gun citadels—Great infantry attack—Unfortunate delays—Sir John French's comments—British attack exhausted—Failure to capture Aubers Ridge—"Digging in"—Canadian Division's baptism of fire—"Casualties"—Trenches on Ypres salient
YPRES
Canadians' glory—A civilian force—Ypres salient—Poelcappelle road—Disposition of troops—Gas attack on French—Plight of the 3rd Brigade—Filling the gap—General Turner's move—Loss of British guns—Canadian valour—St. Julien—Attack on the wood—Terrible fire—Officer casualties—Reinforcements—Geddes detachment—Second Canadian Brigade bent back—Desperate position—Terrible casualties—Col. Birchall's death—Magnificent artillery work—Canadian left saved—Canadians relieved—Story of 3rd Brigade—Gas attack on Canadians—Canadian recovery—Major Norsworthy killed—Major McCuaig's stand—Disaster averted—Col. Hart-McHarg killed—Major Odlum—General Alderson's efforts—British reinforce Canadians—3rd Brigade withdraws—General Currie stands fast—Trenches wiped out—Fresh gas attack—Germans take St. Julien—British cheer Canadians—Canadians relieved—Heroism of men—Col. Watson's dangerous mission—The Ghurkas' dead—Record of all units—Our graveyard in Flanders
A WAVE OF BATTLE
Individual heroism—Canadian tenacity—Before the battle—The civilian element—A wave of battle—New meaning of "Canada"—"Northern Lights"—The fighting paymaster—Major serves as lieutenant—Misfortunes of Hercule Barré—"Runners"—A messenger's apology—Swimming a moat—Rescue of wounded—Colonel Watson's bravery—Colonel Watson's leadership—His heroic deed—Dash of Major Dyer and Capt. Hilliam—Major Dyer shot—"I have crawled home"—Lieut. Whitehead's endurance—Major King saves his guns—Corpl. Fisher, V.C.—The real Canadian officer—Some delusions in England—German tricks—Sergt. Richardson's good sense—"No surrender!"—Corpl. Baker's heroism—Bombs from the dead—Holding a position single-handed—The brothers McIvor—Daring of Sergt.-Major Hall—Sergt. Ferris, Roadmender—Heroism of the sappers—Sergt. Ferris, Pathfinder—A sergeant in command—Brave deeds of Pte. Irving—He vanishes—Absurdities in tragedy—Germans murder wounded—Doctors under fire—The professional manner—Red hours—Plight of refugees—Canadian colony in London—Unofficial inquiries—Canada's destiny
FESTUBERT
Objective of Aubers and Festubert—Allies' co-operation—Great French offensive—Terrific bombardment—British support—Endless German fortresses—Shortage of munitions—Probable explanation—Effect of Times disclosures—Outcry in England—Coalition Government—After Ypres—The Canadian advance—Disposition of Canadians—Attack on the Orchard—Canadian Scottish—Sapper Harmon's exploits—Drawback to drill-book tactics—A Canadian ruse—"Sam Slick"—The Orchard won—Arrival of Second Brigade—The attempt on "Bexhill"—In the German trenches—Strathcona's Horse—King Edward's Horse—Cavalry fight on foot—Further attack on "Bexhill"—Redoubt taken—"Bexhill" captured—"Dig in and hang on"—Attack on the "Well"—Heroic efforts repulsed—General Seely assumes command—A critical moment—Heavy officer casualties—The courage of the cavalry—Major Murray's good work—Gallantry of Sergt. Morris and Corpl. Pym—Death of Sergt. Hickey—Canadian Division withdrawn—Trench warfare till June
GIVENCHY
Minor engagements—A sanguinary battle—Attacks on "Stony Mountain" and "Dorchester"—Disposition of Canadian troops—An enemy bombardment—"Duck's Bill"—A mine mishap—"Dorchester" taken—A bombing party—Coy.-Sergt.-Major Owen's bravery—Lieut. Campbell mounts machine-gun on Private Vincent's back—How Private Smith replenished the bombers—Fighting the enemy with bricks—British Division unable to advance—Canadians hang on—"I can crawl"—General Mercer's leadership—Private Clark's gallantry—Dominion Day
PRINCESS PATRICIA'S LIGHT INFANTRY
Review in Lansdowne Park—Princess Patricia presents the Colours—South African veterans and reservists—Princess Patricias in the trenches—St. Eloi—Major Hamilton Gault—A dangerous reconnaissance—Attack on a sap—A German onslaught—Lessons from the enemy—A march to battle—Voormezeele—Death of Colonel Farquhar—Polygone Wood—Regiment's work admired—A move towards Ypres—Heavily shelled—A new line—Arrival of Major Gault—Regiment sadly reduced—Gas shells—A German rush—Major Gault wounded—Lieut. Niven in command—A critical position—Corporal Dover's heroism—A terrible day—Shortage of small arms ammunition—Germans' third attack—Enemy repulsed—Regiment reduced to 150 rifles—Relieved—A service for the dead—In bivouac—A trench line at Armentières—Regiment at full strength again—Moved to the south—Back in billets—Princess Patricias instruct new troops—Rejoin Canadians—A glorious record
THE PRIME MINISTER
The Prime Minister's visit—Passing of Politics—End to domestic dissensions—The Imperial idea—Sir Robert's foresight—Arrival in England—At Shorncliffe—Meeting with General Hughes—Review of Canadian troops—The tour in France—A Canadian base hospital—A British hospital—Canadian graves—Wounded under canvas—Prince Arthur of Connaught—Visiting battle scenes—Received by General Alderson—General Turner's Brigade—Speech to the men—First and Second Brigades—Sir Robert in the trenches—Cheered by Princess Patricias—Enemy aeroplanes—Meeting with Sir John French—The Prince of Wales—With the French Army—General Joffre—A conference in French—The French trenches—The stricken city of Albert—To Paris—The French President—Conference with the French War Minister—Shorncliffe again—Canadian convalescent home—A thousand convalescents—Sir Robert's emotion—His wonderful speech—End of journey
THE CANADIAN CORPS
Tranquil Canadian lines—-German reconnaissance—Incident at "Plug Street"—Pte. Bruno saves Capt. Tidy—A sniper's month—Sharpshooters' compact—Sergt. Ballendine—The Ross rifle—"No Man's Land"—Our bombers—Sergt. William Tabernacle—His new profession—General Sir Sam Hughes' visit—Canadian patriotism—Civilian armies—"Last Word of Kings"—Art of the "soldier's speech" Lord Kitchener's inspiration—Lord Roberts and the Indians—General Hughes arrives in France—At British Headquarters—Consultation with King Albert—Meeting with Prince Alexander of Teck—Conference with General Alderson—The second Canadian Contingent—In the firing line—Many friends—General Burstall's artillery—Inspection of cavalry—Meeting with Prince of Wales—The Princess Patricias—Conference with Sir Douglas Haig—General Hughes' suggestions—Meeting with General Foch—Impressed with General Joffre—The ruin at Rheims—General Hughes' message on departure—A quiet August—The Canadian Corps—General Alderson's New Command—An appreciation of a gallant Commander—Conclusion
THE KING'S MESSAGES TO THE CANADIANS
CANADIANS IN DESPATCHES
THE PRIME MINISTER AND THE WAR
LIEUT.-GENERAL E. A. H. ALDERSON, C.B., COMMANDING THE CANADIAN CORPS
HONOURS AND REWARDS GRANTED
STATEMENT OF CASUALTIES
CHAPTER I
MOBILISATION
War without warning—Canada's loyalty—Improvising an Army—Efforts of the Minister of Militia—Camp at Valcartier—Canadian Armada sails—Arrival at Plymouth—Lord Roberts's interest—King's visit to Canadian Camp—Training completed—Sailing for France.
"O ye by wandering tempest sown
Neath every alien star,
Forget not whence the breath was blown
That wafted you afar!
For ye are still her ancient seed
On younger soil let fall—
Children of Britain's island-breed
To whom the Mother in her need
Perchance may one day call."
—WILLIAM WATSON.
War came upon us without warning, like a thunderbolt from a clear sky. Our people were essentially non-military, fearing no aggression from a peace-loving neighbour, and ignorant of the imminence of German aggression. Yet, in seven weeks, Canada created the first apparatus of war. In seven weeks we assembled an army which, a few months later, was to save Calais on the battlefield of Langemarck. As a demonstration of practical loyalty the exertions of Canada were only equalled by Australia and New Zealand. As an example of administration rising to an emergency, the effort has never been surpassed in military history.
When the British ultimatum to Germany demanding the recognition of the neutrality of Belgium expired, the Canadian Government decided to raise an Expeditionary Force. As this news flashed across the Dominion, the fires of patriotism, which had been smouldering, burst into flame in every province. Parliament was in vacation, but the Prime Minister returned from the West and summoned his Cabinet. The Minister of Militia was already at work in his office, for the proposal of the Canadian Government to raise 20,000 men had been accepted by the British Government.
Within two months of the outbreak of war between Great Britain and Germany, the Dominion of Canada concentrated, armed, and sent to Europe an Expeditionary Force of 33,000 men. A voluntary army, the first complete Canadian Division ever assembled, with more than half a Reserve Division, this force was by far the greatest body of soldiers that had ever crossed the Atlantic at one time. It comprised cavalry, artillery, infantry, engineers, signallers, supply and ammunition columns, field ambulances and hospital staffs, provided with all the apparatus required for the handling and treatment of the wounded; it carried its own complement of rifles, machine guns, field guns, and heavy artillery, and a store of ammunition.
It was not the first time that Canadians had taken up arms in defence of Imperial interests. In the Crimean War, Canadians fought in the ranks of the British Army. The Indian Mutiny saw the old Prince of Wales' Royal Canadian Regiment at Gibraltar and at Malta. More than 7,000 Canadians fought for England in the South African War. But now the Empire was to be tested to its foundations. The Minister of Militia, Major-General the Hon. Sir Sam Hughes, K.C.B., acted with the promptness and energy for which he was already famous in the Dominion. In less than a month the Government, which had asked for 20,000 men, found almost 40,000 at its disposal, and the Minister of Militia deemed it necessary to issue orders that no more recruits be enrolled for the first contingent.
Thus did Canada answer the call. From the workshops and the offices of her cities, from the lumber camps of her forests, from the vast wheatfields of the West, from the farms and orchards of the East, from the slopes of the Rockies, from the shores of Hudson Bay, from the mining valleys of British Columbia, from the banks of the Yukon, from the reaches of the St. Lawrence, the manhood of Canada hurried to arms.
No mere jackboot militarism inspired them. They sought neither the glory of conquest nor the rape of freedom, nor the loot of sacked cities. No selfish ideal led them to leave their homes and exchange the ease and comforts of civil life for the sufferings of war and the risk of death. They came forward, free men and unconstrained, with a simple resolve to lay down their lives, if need be, in defence of the Empire—their Empire too—the very existence of which, as they swiftly saw, was menaced by the most formidable military combination which had ever sprung to arms. The first contingent was born partly of the glory of adventure but more of the spirit of self-sacrifice; and this spirit, in its turn, was born of the deepest emotions of the Canadian people—its love of Country, of Liberty, and of Right.
The Government, in deciding to raise a contingent for service in Europe, were carrying out the national will, and when Parliament entered upon its special session, some days after the declaration of War, unanimity prevailed. The Prime Minister spoke for all parties when he declared that Canada stood "shoulder to shoulder with Britain and the other British Dominions in this quarrel." Sir Wilfrid Laurier spoke of the "double honour" of Canadians of French descent in the opportunity of "taking their place to-day in the ranks of the Canadian Army to fight for the cause of the allied nations." The Government announced its further intention of raising a sum of fifty millions of dollars for war purposes.
As soon as the policy of the Government had been ratified, General Hughes devised and ordered the establishment of the largest camp that had ever been seen on Canadian soil. The site at Valcartier was well chosen. It lay some sixteen miles to the west of Quebec, within a day's march of the gathering transports. The soil was, in the main, light and sandy, and a river of pure water was available. Yet the work of adapting this virgin soil to military purposes was enormous, and the transformation, effected within a fortnight by an army of engineers and workers, a remarkable triumph of applied science. Roads were made, drains laid down, a water supply with miles of pipes installed, electric lighting furnished from Quebec, and incinerators built for the destruction of dry refuse. A sanitary system, second to none that any camp has seen, was instituted. Every company had its own bathing place and shower baths; every cookhouse its own supply of water. Troughs of drinking-water, for horses, filled automatically, so that there was neither shortage nor waste. The standing crops were garnered, trees cut down and their roots torn up. A line of rifle targets 3-½ miles long—the largest rifle range in the world—was constructed. Three miles of sidings were run out from the wayside station, and a camp telephone exchange was quickly put in working order.
Camp and army leaped to life in the same hours. Within four days of the opening of the camp, nearly 6,000 men had arrived in it. A week later the number was 25,000. In those August days all roads led to Valcartier, and the railways rose to the occasion, gathering the first Division to the rendezvous, from every corner of the country, in great trains, each of which carried and fed 600 men.
The assembling force comprised elements from every phase of Canadian life. There were those whose names were known throughout the land. There were men who had fought at Paardeburg—some of them "very barely" within the age limit of 45. One, who had retired from a colonelcy of a regiment, offered to serve as a private, so anxious was he to go. He was more than satisfied when he received a majority. Another, who had spent his fifteenth birthday as a bugler in South Africa, has since celebrated his third war birthday in the Flemish trenches.
The original intention of the authorities was to send to England a Division, consisting of the regular complement of three infantry brigades; but, on September 1st, General Hughes announced at the camp that a fourth brigade would be formed, to be used as drafts to supply the war wastage in the other three. Towards the end of the month the Government decided to send all four brigades over together. "The total reinforcements for the first year of a great war," said Sir Robert Borden in announcing his decision, "are estimated at from 60 to 70 per cent. If the reserve depots necessary for supplying such reinforcements were established in Canada, eight or ten weeks might elapse before they could reach the front.... For these reasons, as well as others, we deem it advisable that the reserves shall be kept on hand in Great Britain, as the Force at the front must continually be kept at full strength, and that without the slightest unnecessary delay."
While the new army underwent its preliminary training at Valcartier, there were other preparations of every kind to be made. The cloth mills of Montreal began to hum with the manufacture of khaki, which the needles of a great army of tailors converted into uniforms, greatcoats and cloaks. The Ordnance Department equipped the host with the Ross rifle—a Canadian-made arm. Regiments were shuffled and reshuffled into battalions; battalions into brigades. The whole force was inoculated against typhoid. There were stores to manufacture and to accumulate; a fleet of transports to assemble; a thousand small cogs in the machine to be nicely adjusted.
Early in September, the whole First Division was reviewed by the Governor-General in a torrential downpour of rain; and again, towards the end of the month, a few days before embarkation, the Duke of Connaught (accompanied by the Duchess and the Princess Patricia) took the salute at Valcartier from the first army of Canada. At this final review the contingent was fittingly led past the saluting base by the man whose name, more than any one other, will be linked in history with the first Canadian Division. General Hughes had cause to be proud of the 33,000 men who marched past that day, fully armed and fully equipped, well within two months of the declaration of war in Europe.
The feat of raising such a force is all the more remarkable when one considers that, with the exception of the Princess Patricia's Light Infantry, the overwhelming majority of the men who volunteered for the great War were civilians, without previous experience or training. The "Princess Pats," as that already famous regiment is now commonly called, was the only one that consisted almost entirely of old soldiers.
The Governor-General's review over, news from the camp came fitfully. The censor was at work, and the public guessed rightly that the division was on the move. Through the darkness and the rain and the mud of the night of September 23rd-24th, the guns crawled down the sixteen miles of valley that brought them to Quebec at daybreak, the men drenched, but happy in the knowledge that they were at last off to the war. The weather was so bad that the infantry, instead of marching, were brought down in a long succession of heavy trains. The embarkation of horses, men, guns and wagons was completed in less than three days. And so the First Canadian Division, with its Reserves, sailed away down the St. Lawrence, in a fleet of Atlantic liners such as the mighty gateway of Canada had never before borne on her bosom.
The fleet assembled in Gaspé Basin, on the coast of Quebec, where the warships which were to convoy it across the Atlantic awaited it. On October 3rd the transports steamed out of Gaspé Bay in three lines ahead, led by His Majesty's ships Charybdis, Diana, and Eclipse, with the Glory and Suffolk on the flanks, and the Talbot in the rear. Later, the Suffolk's place was taken by the battle-cruiser, Queen Mary. The sealing-ship Florizel, with the Newfoundland Regiment aboard, joined the fleet after its departure from Gaspé Bay.
The voyage was uneventful if rather long, the fleet entering Plymouth Sound on the evening of October 14th. So strict had been the censorship that the arrival of the Canadian Armada was quite unexpected by the people of Plymouth and Devonport; but no sooner had the word gone forth that the Canadian transports had arrived, than the townsfolk flocked to the waterside, to cheer and sing, and cheer again.
No one was allowed on board the transports, but, when on the succeeding days the troops were landed and marched through the streets, they received a welcome which they will never forget. Hundreds of the men had relatives and friends who were anxious to catch a glimpse of them at the docks, but access was refused. The only exception made throughout the various disembarkations was in the case of the late Field-Marshal Lord Roberts.
Lieut.-General Alderson[[1]] had been appointed to the command of the contingent, and visited the commanding officers before the work of disembarkation began.
The Canadian Division, the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry, and the Newfoundland Regiment occupied camps on Salisbury Plain at Bustard, West Down South, West Down North, Pond Farm, Lark Hill, and Sling Plantation. Here the Canadians remained until their departure for France. Here, in the mud and cold and rain of those four dismal months, they worked and lived and displayed that spirit of endurance, courage, and willingness which has since proclaimed them
to the world as troops of the finest quality. On the sodden grazing lands, in the fog and mud of the battalion lines, in the dripping tents and crowded, reeking huts, the men of Canada gave promise of the great spirit they possessed, and their officers saw it and were proud.
Lord Roberts visited the Division soon after its arrival in England. It was the last public appearance of this great soldier in England, and the following are the principal points in his speech to the Canadian troops:—
"We have arrived at the most critical moment of our history, and you have generously come to help us in our hour of need.
***
"Three months ago we found ourselves involved in this war, a war not of our own seeking; but one which those who have studied Germany's literature and Germany's aspirations, knew was a war which we should inevitably have to deal with sooner or later. The prompt resolve of Canada to give us such valuable assistance, has touched us deeply. That resolve has been quickened into action in a marvellously short space of time, under the excellent organising and driving power of your Minister of Militia—my friend, Major-General Hughes.
***
"We are fighting a nation which looks upon the British Empire as a barrier to her development, and has, in consequence, long contemplated our overthrow and humiliation. To attain that end she has manufactured a magnificent fighting machine, and is straining every nerve to gain victory.
*****
"It is only by the most determined efforts that we can defeat her."[[2]]
The King paid his first visit to our troops early in November. His Majesty was accompanied by Field-Marshals Lords Roberts and Kitchener, Sir George Perley, Member of the Canadian Cabinet in charge of the office of the High Commissioner in London,[[3]] and Sir Richard McBride, Prime Minister of British Columbia.
The Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry left Salisbury Plain early in December and joined the 27th British Division. The Regiment was brigaded with the 3rd King's Royal Rifles, 4th King's Royal Rifles, 4th Rifle Brigade, and 2nd King's Shropshire Light Infantry.
The King again visited the Canadian troops on February 4th, 1915; and on the following day a Division composed of three infantry brigades, three artillery brigades, ammunition column, divisional engineers, divisional mounted troops, and divisional train, marched off Salisbury Plain and entrained for their port of embarkation under the command of Lieut.-General Alderson.
Lieut.-Colonel (now Major-General) M. S. Mercer commanded the 1st Infantry Brigade, which was composed of the 1st Battalion (Ontario Regiment) under Lieut.-Colonel F. W. Hill, the 2nd Battalion under Lieut.-Colonel (now Brigadier-General) David Watson, the 3rd Battalion (Toronto Regiment) under Lieut.-Colonel (now Brigadier-General) R. Rennie, and the 4th Battalion under Lieut.-Colonel A. P. Birchall, who was killed in action.
The 2nd Infantry Brigade was commanded, by Lieut.-Colonel A. W. Currie (now Major-General), and his four battalions, the 5th, 7th, 8th, and 10th, were commanded respectively by Lieut.-Colonels G. S. Tuxford, W. F. H. Hart-McHarg, L. J. Lipsett (now Brigadier-General), and R. L. Boyle. Colonels Hart-McHarg and Boyle fell at Ypres.
Colonel R. E. W. Turner, V.C., D.S.O., who has since been promoted to the rank of Major-General, commanded the 3rd Infantry Brigade, with Lieut.-Colonels F. O. W. Loomis, F. S. Meighen (now Brigadier-General), J. A. Currie, and R. G. E. Leckie (since promoted to Brigadier-General) commanding respectively the 13th Battalion (Royal Highlanders of Canada), the 14th Battalion (Royal Montreal Regiment), the 15th Battalion (48th Highlanders of Canada), and the 16th Battalion (Canadian Scottish).
Lieut.-Colonel (now Brigadier-General) H. E. Burstall commanded the Canadian Artillery, with Lieut.-Colonels E. W. B. Morrison (now Brigadier-General), J. J. Creelman and J. H. Mitchell commanding artillery brigades. The Officer Commanding Divisional Engineers was Lieut.-Colonel C. J. Armstrong (now Brigadier-General); Lieut.-Colonel F. C. Jameson was in command of the Divisional Mounted Troops and Major F. A. Lister of the Divisional Signal Company.
The Division sailed from Avonmouth, and the last transport reached St. Nazaire, on the Bay of Biscay, in the second week of February.
The 6th, 9th, 11th, 12th, and 17th Battalions were left in England as the Base Brigade of the Division. These battalions were formed later into the Canadian Training Depot; later still, together with reinforcements from Canada, into the Canadian Training Division, under the command of Brigadier-General J. C. MacDougall.
Such, in its principal commands, was the Army which left Canada for the Great Adventure. It carried with it, and it left behind, high hopes. It was certain that no men of finer physique or higher courage could be found anywhere in any theatre of this immense struggle. But there were some—and these neither faint-hearted nor unpatriotic—who recalled with anxiety the scientific organisation and the tireless patience with which Germany had set herself to create the most superb military instrument which the world has ever seen. And they may have been forgiven if they asked themselves:
"Can civilians, however brave and intelligent, be made in a few months the equals of those inspired veterans who are swarming in triumph over the battlefields of Europe?"
"Can Generals, and Staffs, and officers be improvised, able to compete with the scientific output of the most scientific General Staff which has ever conceived and carried out military operations?"
These were formidable questions, and even a bold man might have shrunk from a confident answer.
The story of Canada in Flanders, however inadequately told, will make it unnecessary ever to ask them again.
[[1]] Lieut.-General Edwin Alfred Hervey Alderson, C.B., has a distinguished record of service. He was born in 1859, at Ipswich, and began his military career with the Militia, from which he passed to the Regular Army in December, 1878. He joined the Royal West Kent Regiment as Second Lieutenant, and was promoted to Lieutenant in July, 1881; and in this year he first saw active service with the Natal Field Force in the Transvaal campaign. He was ordered to Egypt in the following year, serving there with the mounted infantry. He was in two actions, at Kassassin and at the battle of Tel-el-Kebir on September 13th. He received the medal with clasp and the Khedive's bronze star. Lieut. Alderson took part in the Nile Expedition of 1884-1885. He was promoted Captain in June, 1886, and Major in May, 1896, and received the brevet of Lieut.-Colonel in 1897. In 1896 and 1897 he served in South Africa under Sir Frederick Carrington. In October, 1899, he was given the command of the mounted infantry of the 1st Cavalry Brigade. His services throughout the South African campaign were constant and distinguished. In 1903 he was promoted Colonel, and appointed to the command of the 2nd Infantry Brigade, 1st Army Corps. He became a Major-General in 1906, and in 1908 commanded the 6th Division, Southern Army, India. His rank of Lieut.-General dates from October 14th, 1914. General Alderson has received the honour of K.C.B. since this book was in the press.
[[2]] From Canada of October 31st, 1914.
[[3]] When war was declared Sir George Perley, K.C.M.G., M.P., was in London, on his way from Canada to attend a congress of the International Parliamentary Union for Peace, at Stockholm. He remained in England to act as High Commissioner for Canada, in succession to the late Lord Strathcona, whose place had not been filled. Sir George is the first Commissioner, from any Dominion, of Cabinet rank, and the advantage to Canada is at once obvious. He is, of course, a man of vast business experience, and it would be difficult to over-estimate the services he has already rendered to the Imperial Government and the Government of Canada.
CHAPTER II
WARFARE
"Plug Street"—British Army in being—At General Headquarters—Rest billets—Mud or death—The trenches—Buzzing bullets—Sir Douglas Haig—The Front—Restrictions on the narrative—Reviewed by Commander-in-Chief—Canadians in the trenches—Our men take to football—"Jack Johnsons"—A German challenge—General Alderson—-The General's methods—His speech to the Canadians—A fine Force.
"Things 'ave transpired which made me learn
The size and meanin' of the game.
I did no more than others did,
I don't know where the change began;
I started as an average kid,
I finished as a thinkin' man."
—KIPLING.
"The strong necessity of time commands
Our services awhile."
Antony and Cleopatra.
After a slow journey by rail of 350 miles from the landing point in France, the Canadians reached a wayside station which lies about twelve miles due west of Ploegsteert—the war-historic "Plug Street" wood, which British regiments had already made famous. At this point the Canadians were well within that triangle of country lying between St. Omer to the west, the ruins of Ypres to the east, and Bethune to the south, which at that time contained the entire British Army in France.
It was one of the most remarkably interesting pieces of triangular territory imaginable, full of movement, romance, and the intricate detail of organisation. Within it lay the already wonderful beginnings of the great British force as it is to-day, and I will do my best to make clear how, within that triangle, the first British Army lived, moved, fought, and generally had its being.
You must picture the British Army in the field, spread out like a fan. The long, wavy edge of the fan is the line of men in the firing trenches, at the very forefront of affairs, often within a stone's-throw of the opposing German line. Some hundreds of yards behind this firing line lie the support trenches, also filled with men. The men in the firing and supporting trenches exchange places every forty-eight hours. After a four days' spell they all retire for four days' rest, fresh troops taking their places as they move out. At the end of their four days' rest they return again to the trenches. All relieving movements are carried out in the dark to avoid the enemy's rifle fire.
Further back, along the ribs of the fan, one finds the headquarters of the many brigades; behind these, headquarters of divisions; then headquarters of army corps, then of armies—the groups becoming fewer and fewer in number as you recede—until, at the end of the fan handle, one reaches the General Headquarters, where the Commander-in-Chief stands, with his hand on the dynamo which sends its impulses through every part of the great machine spread out in front.
From General Headquarters the movements of the entire British Army, or rather of the several British armies, are directed and controlled. It is a War Office in the field, with numerous branches closely co-ordinated and working together like a single machine. Here is the operations office, where plans of attack are worked out under the direction of the Commander-in-Chief and his chief of staff.
Near by is the building occupied by the "signals" branch, which with its nerve system of telegraphs, telephones, and motor-cycle despatch riders, is the medium of communication with every part of the field, and also with the base of supplies and the War Office in London. "Signals" carries its wires to within rifle shot of the trenches, and every division of the Army has its own field telephones from battalions headquarters to the firing line.
Close at hand is the office of the intelligence branch, which collects and communicates information about the enemy from every source it can tap. It receives and compares reports of statements made by prisoners, and interrogates some prisoners itself. It goes through documents, letters, diaries, official papers—captured in the field—and extracts points from these. It collects news from its own agents—it is only your enemy who calls them spies—about events that are happening, or are likely to happen, behind the screen of the enemy's lines.
At General Headquarters you find the department of the Adjutant-General, who is responsible for the whole of the arrangements—keeping the army in the field supplied with men and munitions of war, for the transfer of all prisoners to the base, for the trial of offences against discipline, and for the spiritual welfare of the troops.
From a neighbouring office the Quartermaster-General controls the movements of food and fodder for men and horses, and all other stores, other than actual munitions of war.
Still another branch houses the Director-General of Medical Service, who supervises the treatment of the wounded from the field aid post to the field clearing station, from there to the hospital train, and thence to the base hospital in France or Great Britain.
One of the most fascinating spots at General Headquarters is the map department. Thousands of maps of various kinds and sizes have been produced here since the war began. They vary from large maps, to be hung on walls or spread on great tables, down to small slips—with a few lines of German trenches accurately outlined—and most handy for the use of battery and battalion commanders. Remarkable photographs are also printed here—panoramic views and photographs of German positions, taken at very close quarters, often under fire. There are officers who specialise in this perilous and wonderful business.
As one goes forward from General Headquarters towards the edge of the fan, one comes in contact with more and more men, and realises quickly that, in spite of the hardships of trench warfare, our troops are superbly fit and ready for any task which the fortunes of war may impose on them. Their physical condition remains so robust as to be astonishing.
For instance, the evening that I reached the billeting area, I saw several battalions of the Expeditionary Force marching from their billets towards the trenches—they had been at the front for months, yet they stepped as freshly as though they were just from home or route-marching in English lanes. Their faces shone with health; their eyes were as bright as those of a troop of schoolboys. They were, in fact, tramping down a long, straight, poplar-lined Flemish highway, with a misty vista of flat ploughed land on either side. They whistled as they marched.
The complete efficiency of the men is largely due to the excellence of their food. The Army is, in fact, healthier than any other army that has ever faced war. Typhoid is almost unknown. The amazing record of health owes much to the sanitary precautions which are taken. One of the most remarkable of these is the system of hot baths and the sterilising of clothing.
Bathing establishments have been put up in various parts of the field, and the largest of them is in a building which, before the war, was a jute factory. Every hour of the day, successive companies of men have hot baths here. They strip to the skin, and while they wallow in huge vats of hot water, their clothing is treated with 200 degrees of heat, which destroys all vermin.
At first the small towns, the villages, and the many farmhouses and cottages within easy reach of the firing line provided all the rest billets. A great many men are billeted in this way still. I found, for instance, a company of Territorials snugly resting in a huge farm, the officers having quarters in the farmhouse on the other side of the yard; but recently a large number of wooden huts have been put up in various places across the countryside, and here the men come back from the trenches to rest. They are tired when they come "home," but a sound sleep, a wash, a hearty breakfast, and a stroll in the fresh air—out of range of the insistent bullets—have a magical effect. In the afternoon you find them playing football as blithely as boys, and those who are not playing stand round and chaff and applaud. I saw as many games of football one day, in the course of a motor run behind the lines, as one would see on a Saturday afternoon in England.
Every day brings its letters and newspapers—every rail-head has its little travelling letter office shunted into a siding. Here the letters of a division are sorted. They average more than one letter a day for every man in the field. That is another reason why the Army is in good spirits. No army in the world before ever got so much news from home, so regularly and so quickly. Besides this, drafts of men are constantly being sent home—across the Channel—for five or seven days' leave.
The firing line is not much further from the base than London is from the sea. One passes on through the region of rest billets and headquarters of sections of troops, and arrives behind the firing line. When the Canadians first landed, the British forces held a front between twenty and thirty miles long, running from Ypres, on the north, where the Seventh Division made its heroic stand against the Prussian Guards, to Givenchy, on the south, near the scene of the battle of Neuve Chapelle.
This stretch had been held ever since the British troops made their swift dart from the Aisne to Flanders, hoping (how strange it seems now) to outflank the Germans, and in fact, by immense exertions, defeating a far more formidable outflanking movement by the enemy. Here they have maintained their ground. They lived and fought in seas of mud all through the winter. The water was pumped out of the trenches with hand-pumps, only to ooze back again through the sodden soil. Plank platforms were put down, and straw was piled in. Yet the mud smothered everything. The men stood in mud, sat in mud, and lay in mud. Often it was as much as they could do to prevent the mud from clogging their rifles. They crawled through mud to the trenches when it was their time to relieve those in the firing line. They had to hide in the mud of the trenches to escape the German bullets. It was a choice of mud or death. With the arrival of spring, conditions were improved. There was less rain, and the winds had begun to dry the ground. On fine days there was even dust on the paved roads, although the quagmire of mud, each side of the centre strip of granite, still remained. The trench mud was becoming firmer.
The line of trenches runs nearly everywhere through low-lying ground, intersected with watery ditches and small streams; the land is so level, and the atmosphere so heavy, that, as a rule, the eye ranges little further than a rifle bullet will carry. The nearer the firing line the more difficult you find it to set eyes on men. Thousands of men are almost within hailing distance, but none are to be seen. Friend and foe alike are hidden in the trenches.
Some of the most famous trenches are in a wood that is known to all the army as "Plug Street," although, as I have already made clear, it is spelled a little differently on the maps. To reach the trenches you have, of course, to come within rifle-shot of the enemy, for in most places the German and British trenches are not more than 250 yards from each other, and here and there they are only 40 or 50 yards apart. One creeps and crawls at dusk along paths which months of experience has told the soldiers are the best means of approach; and one eventually scrambles into a communication trench which, in a number of zig-zags, leads you to the firing trench, where the men are waiting, rifle in hand, in case of attack, or now and again taking a snap-shot through a loophole in the trench parapet.
The trenches in "Plug Street" are like all the other trenches—very exciting to think about before you reach them, but, unless you happen to arrive when shells are bursting overhead, comparatively dull and matter-of-fact when you are actually there. It is only the chance of death that gives them their peculiar interest over other holes excavated by men in clammy earth. The bee-like buzz of an occasional bullet overhead reminds you that death is searching for its prey. "Plug Street" has a fame which will endure. All through the first winter, the men squashed about in its awful mud, making quite a number of slimy, ankle-deep, or knee-deep lanes from point to point among the trees. In course of time each of the muddy woodland alleys received its nickname from the men in the ranks.
Such was the appearance and atmosphere of things at the front when the Canadians first arrived. After a few days of special instruction they were billeted in the area of the First Army under Sir Douglas Haig. The Divisional Headquarters were located near Estaires, with the Brigade Headquarters in advanced positions, and the "Front" is clearly indicated by the sketch on page 37.
I have described, as fully as is permissible, the general disposition and the general organisation of the British Army in the field as it was when the Canadians first set foot in France. It now becomes necessary to deal in detail with the "Front"—that almost endless succession of warren-like lines where scores of thousands of men stand to arms by night and day, and where the Canadian troops have already fought with a gallantry and a dash, and yet a tenacity, which have seldom, if ever, been equalled in military history.
None can examine what, for want of a better name, is called the "Front" of this amazing war, without realising the truth of what has been so often said—that it is a war almost without a "Front."
As one approaches from a distance the actual point of contact between the opposing forces, one is struck ever more and more by the immense numbers which are converging, as it seems, for some great military purpose. But the nearer the front approaches the more completely does all that is spectacular disappear, until, finally, the flower of the youth of Europe vanishes and is swallowed up by immense but barely visible lines of field fortifications.
And now the Canadian Division, too, has reached the front. The long, the tedious winter discomfort of Salisbury Plain, never resented but always disliked, already seems far away. No one in the Canadian Division grudges the honour which was paid to Princess Patricia's Light Infantry, to carry first the badge of Canada on the battlefields of Flanders. It was freely recognised that this Regiment had arrived with greater technical knowledge and had reached a degree of efficiency which the other battalions could hardly equal without longer preparation. The fortunes of the Princess Patricias will be told in another chapter, but it can be said that the Battalion has proved itself worthy of fighting side by side, and on equal terms, with the army of veterans and heroes which held the trenches during the first horrible winter in Flanders.
It is a story which will demand the utmost care in the telling, and, in any case, much that would be of the greatest interest must of necessity be omitted, because, in face of the superb organisation of the German Intelligence Department, it might be mischievous to publish details of units, and of their doings, as long as the general military formations in which these units play a part remain unchanged. It is out of respect for this consideration that the day for giving full honours to units by exact identification has so often to be postponed, so that the records of our men's heroism only appear when, in the maelstrom of fresh splendid deeds, they are already half forgotten.
This volume, and those which it is hoped will follow it, must always be read in the light of these most necessary restrictions. Nevertheless it is possible, while observing every rule which has been laid down for our guidance, to give a general picture of the Canadian Division, its surroundings and its doings, which, whether it interests other people or not, will not be read without emotion by those who sent their sons and brothers to the greatest battlefields of history in support of principles which, in their general application, are as important to the liberties of Canada as they are to the liberties of Europe.
Before the Canadians took up their allotted positions in the trenches they marched past the Commander-in-Chief and his Staff. Those who watched the troops defile in the grey, square market-place of a typical Flanders town, were experienced judges of the physique and quality of soldiers. No one desires in such a connection to use exaggerated language, and it is therefore unnecessary to say more than that the unanimous view of those who watched so intently and so critically, was that, judging the men by their physique and their soldierly swing, no more promising troops had come to swell our ranks since the day the Expeditionary Force landed in France.
When the Canadian troops first took their turn as a Division in the trenches, nothing sensational happened to them. It was not their fortune, at the outset, to be swung forward in a desperate attack, or to cling in defensive tenacity to trenches which the Germans had resolved to master. There were, of course, casualties. One does not enter or leave trenches without casualties, for the sniper never fails to claim his daily toll, but the early trench experiences of the Canadians were not eventful, as one judges incidents in this war. This period of immunity, however, was all to the good. Whatever else he is, the Canadian is adaptable, and the experience of these weeks brought him more wisdom than others might have drawn from it.
Work in the trenches no longer involves, in respect of duration, the heartbreaking strain which was imposed upon all in the dark and anxious days of the autumn of 1914, when a thin line of khaki held, often wholly unsupported by reserves, so immense a line against superior forces. Trench work now, in relation to the period of exposure, is well within the powers of stout and resolute troops. For a certain period, relays of the force take their turn in holding their lines. When that period is passed they are relieved by their comrades.
Exciting, if occasionally monotonous, though life in the trenches may be, it is strange to a Canadian, and deeply interesting, to study the tiny town in which the troops in repose are billeted, and the hustling life on which they have already stamped so much of their individuality. Picture to yourself a narrow street, the centre paved, the sides of tenacious mud. Line it on each side with houses, rather squalid, and with a few unimportant stores. Add a château (not a grand one) for the Headquarters, a modest office for the Staff, and you have a fair conception of the billeting place which shelters that part of the division which reposes. But this town is like many other towns in this unattractive country. Its interest to us lies in the tenants of the moment. Walk down the street, and you will, if you are a Canadian, feel at once something familiar and homelike in the atmosphere. One hears voices everywhere, and one does not need the sight of the brass shoulder badges, "CANADA," to know the race to which these voices belong. It may be the speech of Nova Scotia, it may be the voice of British Columbia, or it may be the accents in which the French-Canadian seeks to adapt to the French of Flanders the tongue which his ancestors, centuries ago, carried to a new world; but, whichever it be—it is all Canadian.
And soon, a company swings by, going perhaps to bath parade—to that expeditious process which, in half an hour, has cleansed the bathers and fumigated every rag which they possess. And as they pass they sing carelessly, but with a challenging catch, a song which, if by chance you come from Toronto, will perhaps stir some association. For these, or many of them, are boys from the College; and the song is the University song whose refrain is, "Toronto."
And if you go still a little further in the direction of the front, you will soon—very soon—after leaving the place of billeting, come to the country over which the great guns, by day and night, contend for mastery. And as one advances, there seem to be Canadians everywhere. Here are batteries, skilfully masked. Here are supplies on their way to the trenches. And all the time can be seen reliefs and reserves until it is strange to meet anyone not in khaki and without the badge of "CANADA." The passion for football, which the Canadian has begun to share with his English comrade, abates none of its keenness as he marches nearer to the front. A spirited match was in progress near our lines not long ago when a distracting succession of "Weary Willies" began to distribute themselves not very far from the football ground. The only people who took no notice were the players, and nothing short of a peremptory order from the Provost Marshal brought to an end a game which was somewhat unnecessarily dangerous. And our men have, of course, made the acquaintance of "Jack Johnson," and without liking him—for he is not likeable—they endure him with as much constancy as brave men need. Nor, indeed, have our own artillery failed to do more than hold their own. The gunners inherited from the division which preceded them in the trenches a disagreeable inheritance in the shape of an observation post which had long harassed and menaced our lines by the information which it placed at the disposal of the enemy. We were so fortunate as to put it out of action in the third round which we fired—a success very welcome as an encouragement, and giving a substantial relief from an unwholesome scrutiny.
Our infantry were not specially engaged in the fighting at Neuve Chapelle, but our artillery played its part in that triumph of artillery science which preceded the British attack, and our men were ready during the whole fight for the order which, had the tactical situation so developed, would have sent them, too, to make their first assault upon the German trenches. And there were not a few who were longing for that order. They thought that the Germans had presumed upon a slight acquaintance. For, the very first night on which our men were put into the trenches, the Germans began to call out, "Come out, you Canadians! Come out and fight!" Now, the trenches at normal times have their own code of manners and of amenity, and this challenge was, and is, regarded as impertinent.
The Canadian brings his own phrases into his daily life. When the German flares in the trenches nervously lighted up the space between the two lines, "There are the Northern Lights" was the comment of Canada; and "Northern Lights" they have remained to this day.
It would be evidently impertinent to say more of the General Officer Commanding the force, General Alderson, than that he enjoys the most absolute confidence of the fine force he commands. He trusts them, and they trust him; and it will be strange if their co-operation does not prove fruitful. And an observer is at once struck by the extraordinarily accurate knowledge which the General has gained of the whole body of regimental officers under his command. He seems to know them as well by name and sight, as if he had commanded the force for six years instead of six months. And this is a circumstance which, in critical moments, counts for much.
General Alderson's methods—his practical and soldierly style—could not be better illustrated than by some extracts from the speech which he addressed to the troops before they went into the trenches for the first time:—
"All ranks of the Canadian Division: We are about to occupy and maintain a line of trenches. I have some things to say to you at this moment which it is well that you should consider. You are taking over good and, on the whole, dry trenches. I have visited some myself. They are intact, and the parapets are good. Let me warn you first that we have already had several casualties while you have been attached to other divisions. Some of those casualties were unavoidable, and that is war. But I suspect that some—at least a few—could have been avoided. I have heard of cases in which men have exposed themselves with no military object, and perhaps only to gratify curiosity. We cannot lose good men like this. We shall want them all if we advance, and we shall want them all if the Germans advance. Do not expose your heads, and do not look round corners, unless for a purpose which is necessary at the moment you do it. It will not often be necessary. You are provided with means of observing the enemy without exposing your heads. To lose your lives without military necessity is to deprive the State of good soldiers. Young and brave men enjoy taking risks. But a soldier who takes unnecessary risks through levity, is not playing the game. And the man who does so is stupid, for whatever be the average practice of the German Army, the individual shots they employ as snipers shoot straight, and, screened from observation behind the lines, they are always watching. And if you put your head over the parapet without orders they will hit that head.
"There is another thing. Troops new to the trenches always shoot at nothing the first night. You will not do it. It wastes ammunition and it hurts no one. And the enemy says: 'These are new and nervous troops.' You will be shelled in the trenches. When you are shelled, sit low and sit tight. This is easy advice, for there is nothing else to do. If you get out you will only get it worse. And if you go out the Germans will go in. And if the Germans go in, we shall counter-attack and put them out; and that will cost us hundreds of men, instead of the few whom shells may injure. The Germans do not like the bayonet, nor do they support bayonet attacks. If they get up to you, or if you get up to them, go right in with the bayonet. You have the physique to drive it home. That you will do it I am sure, and I do not envy the Germans if you get among them with the bayonet.
"There is one thing more. My old regiment, the Royal West Kents, has been here since the beginning of the war, and it has never lost a trench. The Army says, 'The West Kents never budge.' I am proud of the great record of my old regiment. And I think it is a good omen. I now belong to you and you belong to me; and before long the Army will say: 'The Canadians never budge.' Lads, it can be left there, and there I leave it. The Germans will never turn you out."
I may, before concluding the present chapter, point out that the most severe military critics, both in England and in France, are loud in their admiration of the organising power which, in a non-military country, has produced so fine a force in so short a time. In equipment, in all the countless details which in co-ordination mean efficiency, the Division holds its own with any division at the war. This result was only made possible by labour, zeal, and immense driving power, and these qualities were exhibited in Canada at the outbreak of war by all those whose duties lay in the work of improvisation.
CHAPTER III
NEUVE CHAPELLE
Canadians' valuable help—A ride in the dark—Pictures on the road—Towards the enemy—At the cross-roads—"Six kilometres to Neuve Chapelle"—Terrific bombardment—Grandmotherly howitzers—British aeroplanes—Fight with a Taube—Flying man's coolness—Attack on the village—German prisoners—A banker from Frankfort—The Indians' pride—A halt to our hopes—Object of Neuve Chapelle—What we achieved—German defences under-rated—Machine gun citadels—Great infantry attack—Unfortunate delays—Sir John French's comments—British attack exhausted—Failure to capture Aubers Ridge—"Digging in"—Canadian Division's baptism of fire—"Casualties"—Trenches on Ypres salient.
"The glory dies not, and the grief is past."—BRYDGES.
"During the battle of Neuve Chapelle the Canadians held a part of the line allotted to the First Army, and, although they were not actually engaged in the main attack, they rendered valuable help by keeping the enemy actively employed in front of their trenches."—Sir John French's Despatch on the Battle of Neuve Chapelle, which began on March 10th, 1915.
It was night when I left the Canadian Divisional Headquarters and motored in a southerly direction towards Neuve Chapelle. It was the eve of the great attack, and in the bright space of light cast by the motor lamps along the road, there came a kaleidoscopic picture of tramping men.
Here at the front there is no need of police restrictions on motor headlights at night as there is in London and on English country roads. The law under which you place yourself is the range of the enemy's guns. Beyond that limit you are free to turn your headlights on, and there is no danger. But, once within the range of rifle fire or shell, you turn your lights on at the peril of your own life. So you go in darkness.
As we rode along with lamps lit, thousands of khaki-clad men were marching along that road—marching steadily in the direction of Neuve Chapelle. The endless stream of their faces flashed along the edge of the pavé in the light of our lamps. Their ranked figures, dim one moment in the darkness, sprang for an instant into clear outline as the light silhouetted them against the background of the night. Then they passed out of the light again and became once more a legion of shadows, marching towards dawn and Neuve Chapelle. The tramp of battalion after battalion was not, however, the tramp of a shadow army, but the firm, relentless, indomitable step of armed and trained men.
Every now and then there came a cry of "Halt," and the columns came on the instant to a stand. Minutes passed, and the command for the advance rang out. The columns moved again. So it went on—halt—march—halt—march—hour by hour through the night along that congested road—a river of men and guns.
For while in one direction men were marching, in the other direction came batteries of guns, bound by another route for their position in front of Neuve Chapelle. The two streams passed one another—legions of men and rumbling, clattering lines of artillery, all moving under screen of the dark, towards the line of trenches where the enemy lay.
This was no time to risk a block in traffic, and my motor, swerving off the paved centre of the road, sank to her axles in the quagmire of thick, sticky mud at the side. The guns passed, and we sought to regain the paved way again, but our wheels spun round, merely churning dirt. We could not move out of that pasty Flemish mud, until a Canadian ambulance wagon came to our aid. The unhitched horses were made fast to the motor, and they heaved the car out of her clinging bed.
In the early morning I came to the cross roads. The signpost planted at the crossing and pointing down the road to the south-east bore the inscription "Six kilometres to Neuve Chapelle."
This was the road that the legions had taken. It led almost in a straight line to the trenches that were to be stormed, to the village behind them that was to be captured, and to the town of La Bassée, a few kilometres further on, strongly held by the Germans.
"Six kilometres to Neuve Chapelle "—barely four miles; one hour's easy walking, let us say, on such a clear, fresh morning; or five minutes in a touring car if the time had been peace. But who knew how many hours of bloody struggle would now be needed to cover that short level stretch of "Six kilometres to Neuve Chapelle"! Between this signpost and the village towards which it pointed the way, many thousands of armed men—sons of the Empire—had come from Britain, from India, from all parts of the Dominions Overseas, to take their share in driving the wedge down to the end of this six kilometres of country road, and through the heart of the German lines. Here for a moment they paused. What hopes, what fears, what joys, what sorrows, triumphs and tragedies were suggested by that austere signpost, pointing "like Death's lean-lifted forefinger" down that little stretch of road marked "Six kilometres to Neuve Chapelle"!
I went on foot part of the way here, for so many battalions of men were massed that motor traffic was impossible. These were troops held in reserve. Those selected for the initial infantry attack were already in the trenches ahead right and left of the further end of the road, waiting on the moment of the advance.
I had just passed the signpost when the comparative peace of morning was awfully shattered by the united roar and crash of hundreds of guns.
This broke out precisely at half-past seven. The exact moment had been fixed beforehand for the beginning of a cannonade more concentrated and more terrific than any previous cannonade in the history of the world. It continued with extraordinary violence for half-an-hour, all calibres of guns taking part in it. Some of the grandmotherly British howitzers hurled their enormously destructive shells into the German lines, on which a hurricane of shrapnel was descending from a host of smaller guns. The German guns and trenches offered little or no reply, for the enemy were cowering for shelter from that storm.
I turned towards the left and watched for awhile the good part which the Canadian Artillery played in that attack. The Canadian Division, which was a little further north than Neuve Chapelle, waited in its trenches, hoping always for the order to advance.
Then I passed down the road until I came to a minor crossways where a famous general stood in the midst of his Staff. Motor despatch riders dashed up the road, bringing him news of the progress of the bombardment. The news was good. The General awaited the moment when the cannonade should cease, as suddenly as it had begun, and he should unleash his troops.
Indian infantry marched down the road and saluted the General as they passed. He returned the salute and cried to the officer at the head of the column, "Good luck." The officer was an Indian, who, with a smile, replied in true Oriental fashion: "Our Division has doubled in strength, General-Sahib, since it has seen you."
While the bombardment continued, British aeroplanes sailed overhead and crossed over to the German lines. The Germans promptly turned some guns on them. We saw white ball-puffs of smoke as the shrapnel shells burst in front, behind, above, below, and everywhere around the machines, but never near enough to hit. They hovered like eagles above the din of the battle, surveying and reckoning the damage which our guns inflicted, and reporting progress.
Map—Line occupied by British in March 1915
Once a German Taube rose in the air and lunged towards the British lines. Then began a struggle for the mastery, which goes to the machine which can mount highest and fire down upon its enemy. The Taube ringed upwards. A couple of British aeroplanes circled after it. To and fro and round and round they went, until the end came. The British machines secured the upper air, and soon we saw that the Taube was done. Probably the pilot had been wounded. The machine drooped and swooped uneasily till, like a wounded bird, it streaked down headlong far in the distance.
I walked over to where a British aeroplane was about to start on a flight. The young officer of the Royal Flying Corps in charge was as cool as though he were taking a run in a motor-car at home. "As a matter of fact," he said, "I wanted change and rest. I had spent five months in the trenches, and was worn out and tired by the everlasting monotony and drudgery of it all. So I applied for a job in the Flying Corps. It soothes one's nerves to be up in the air for a bit after living down in the mud for so long."
I watched him soar up into the morning sky and saw numerous shrapnel bursts chasing him as he sailed about over the German lines. What a quiet, easy-going holiday was this, dodging about in the air, a clear mark for the enemy's guns! But, to tell the truth, the British flying men and machines are very rarely hit. Flying in war-time is not so perilous as it looks, though it needs much skill and a calm, collected spirit.
At length the din of the gunfire ceased, and we knew that the British troops were rushing from their trenches to deal with the Germans, whose nerve the guns had shaken. Astounded as they had been by our artillery fire, the Germans were still more amazed by the rapidity of the infantry attack. The British soldiers and the Indians swept in upon them instantly till large numbers threw down their weapons, scrambled out of their trenches, and knelt, hands up, in token of surrender.
The fight swept on far beyond the German trenches, through the village, and beyond that again. The big guns occasionally joined in, and the chatter of the machine-guns rose and broke off. Now the motor ambulances began to come back—up that road down which the finger pointed to Neuve Chapelle. They lurched past us as we stood by the signpost in an intermittent stream, bearing the wounded men from the fight.
Presently the cheerful sight of German prisoners alternated with the saddening procession of ambulances. Large squads of prisoners went by, many hatless and with dirt-smeared faces, their uniforms looking as though dipped in mustard, the effect of the bursting of the British lyddite shells among them in their trenches. The dejection of defeat was on their faces.
Some of them were halted and were questioned by the General. One man turned out to be a Frankfort banker, whose chief concern later was what would become of his money, which he said had been taken charge of by some of his captors. He was also anxious to know where he would be imprisoned, and seemed relieved, if not delighted, when he heard that it would be in England.
Another prisoner had been a hairdresser in Dresden. The General questioned him, and he gave an entertaining account of his experiences as a soldier.
"I am a Landwehr man," he said. "I was in Germany when I was ordered to entrain. Presently the train drew up and I was ordered to get out, and was told I had to go and attack a place called Neuve Chapelle. So I went on with others, and soon we came into a hell of fire, and we ran onwards and got into a trench, and there the hell was worse than ever. We began to fire our rifles. Suddenly I heard shouting behind me, and looked round and saw a large number of Indians between me and the rest of the German Army. I then looked at the other German soldiers in the trench and saw that they were throwing their rifles out of the trench. Well, I am a good German, but I did not want to be peculiar, so I threw my rifle out also, and then I was taken prisoner and brought here. Although I have not been long at the war, I have had enough of it. I never saw daylight in the battlefield until I was a prisoner."
Some of the prisoners were brought along by the Indian troops who had captured them. They complained bitterly that they, Germans, should be marched about in the custody of Indians! They did not understand the grimly humorous reply: "If the Indians are good enough to take you, they are good enough to keep you."
The Indians smiled with delight, for they are particularly fond of making prisoners of Germans. Most of them brought back their little trophies of the fight, which they held out for inspection with a smile, crying, "Souvenir!"
The stream of prisoners and of wounded passed on. The fury of battle relaxed. Now and then some of the guns still crashed, but the machine guns rattled further and further away, and the crackle of the rifle fire came from a distance.
The British Army had traversed in triumph those "six kilometres to Neuve Chapelle."
At Neuve Chapelle it halted, and there halted, too, the hopes of an early and conclusive victory for the Allied forces.
The enemy's outposts had been driven in, but beyond these, their fortified places bristled with machine guns, which wrought havoc on our troops, and, indeed, brought the successful offensive to a close. Controversy has arisen over the disappointing results which were achieved. For a month after the battle, Neuve Chapelle was heralded by the public as a great British victory. But doubt followed confidence, and in a few weeks the "victory" was described as a failure. The truth lies between these extremes.
The object of this battle of Neuve Chapelle was to give our men a new spirit of offensive and to test the British fighting machine which had been built up with so much difficulty on the Western front. Besides, if this attack succeeded in destroying the German lines, it would be possible to gain the Aubers ridge which dominates Lille. That ridge once firmly held in our hands, the city should have been ours. That would have been a great victory. It would probably have meant the end of the German occupation of this part of France. In any case it must have had a marked effect upon the whole progress of the war.[[1]]
That was what we hoped to do. What we actually accomplished was the winning of about a mile of territory along a three-mile front, and the straightening of our line. The price was too high for the result.
It was the first great effort ever made by the British to pierce the German line since it had been established after the open field battles of the Marne and the Aisne. The British troops had faced the German lines for months, and while the fundamental principles of the German defences were fairly well understood, their real strength was very much underrated.
Things went badly from the beginning of the action. The artillery "preparation" represented quite the most formidable bombardment the British had so far made, but even so, it was ineffective along certain sections of the line. After the way had been paved by shrapnel and high explosive, the British infantry moved forward in a splendid offensive to secure what everyone believed would be a decisive victory; and trained observers of the battle were under the impression that the gallant British infantry had won their end. This is an impression, too, which was shared by some of the men for a time.
For many months the British had been almost entirely on the defensive, and over and over again been called on to repulse heavy, massed German attacks. The casualties sustained in repulsing these attacks first revealed our shortage of machine-guns. What they lacked in machine-guns, however, the British troops made up for in a deadly accuracy of rifle fire, which was at once the terror and the admiration of the Germans. The British had thus come to an exaggerated idea of the efficacy of rifle fire, and a consequent over-estimate of the importance of the German first line trenches. Over these they swarmed, and the word went forth that the day was won.
It was only when the British troops had occupied the enemy's first and second line trenches, they discovered that, in actual fact, they had not done more than drive in the outposts of an army. Close at hand, the Germans' third line loomed up like a succession of closely interlocked citadels. Nay, more, those citadels were so constructed that the trenches from which our men had ousted the enemy with so much heroism and loss were deathtraps for the new tenants. The circumstances were such that to retire meant acknowledgment of failure, and to hang on, a grisly slaughter.
Even so, there were features of the situation which made for hope. There were positions to be won which would very seriously jeopardise the whole German scheme of defence; but, at the critical moment of the battle, the advanced troops seem to have passed beyond the control of the various commanders in the rear on account of the misty weather.
The real tragedy, however, was the non-arrival of the supports at a point and at a time when the appearance of reserves might have made all the difference to the fortunes of the day. The enemy was still bewildered and demoralised, and, but for the delay, might have been completely routed. Unfortunately, the British front was in great need of straightening out. The 23rd Brigade continued to hang up the 8th Division, while the 25th Brigade was fighting along a portion of the front where it was not supposed to be at all. Units had to be disentangled and the whole line straightened before further advance could be made.
The fatal result was a delay which, Sir John French says, would never have occurred had the "clearly expressed orders of the General Officer commanding the 1st Army been more carefully observed."
Sir Douglas Haig himself hurried up to set things right, but it was then too late to retrieve the failure which had been occasioned by delay. The attack was thoroughly exhausted, its sting was gone, and the enemy had pulled himself together. Night was falling, and there was nothing to be done but "dig in" beneath the ridge above Lille, the capture of which would have altered the whole story of the campaign on the Western front.
As I have said, the Canadian infantry took no part in the battle, though the troops waited impatiently and expectantly for the order to advance, but the activity of the Canadian artillery was considerable and important. The Canadian guns took their full share in the "preparation" for the subsequent British infantry attack, and the observation work of our gunners was good and continuous.
After Neuve Chapelle, quiet reigned along the Canadian trenches, though the battle raged to the north of us at St. Eloi, and the Princess Patricia's Battalion was involved. Early in the last days of March our troops were withdrawn and retired to rest camps.
The Canadians had received their baptism of fire, and in extremely favourable circumstances. They had not been called on to make any desperate attacks on the German lines. Nor had the Germans launched any violent assaults upon theirs. The infantry had sustained a few casualties, but that was all; while German artillery practice against our trenches had been curtailed on account of the violent fighting both to the south and the north.
On the other hand, we had been surrounded by all the circumstances of great battles. We had watched the passage of the giant guns, of which the British made use for the first time at Neuve Chapelle, and we had moved and lived and stood to arms amid all the stir and accessories of vehement war. The guns had boomed their deadly message in our ears, we had seen death in many forms, and understood to the full the meaning of "Casualties," while, day by day, the aeroplanes wheeled and circled overhead, passing and re-passing to the enemy's lines.
The Canadians had come to make war, and had dwelt in the midst of it, and after their turn in the trenches many of them, no doubt, accounted themselves war-worn veterans. Little they knew of the ordeals of the future. Little they dreamt, when towards the middle of the month of April they were sent to take over French trenches in the Ypres salient, that they were within a week of that terrible but wonderful battle which has consecrated this little corner of Flanders for Canadian generations yet unborn.
[[1]] The scheme of the attack on Neuve Chapelle had been worked out by General John Gough just before he was killed, and it was explained to his Corps Commanders by Sir John French on May 8th as follows:—The 1st Army was to launch the main assault, the 4th Corps being on the left flank and the Indian Corps on the right. To hold up the enemy all along the line, and to prevent his massing reinforcements to meet the main attack, two other supplementary attacks were also to be made—one attack by the 1st Corps from Givenchy, and the other by the 3rd Corps—detailed from the 2nd Army for that purpose—to the south of Armentières.
CHAPTER IV
YPRES
Canadians' glory—A civilian force—Ypres salient—Poelcappelle road—Disposition of troops—Gas attack on French—Plight of the 3rd Brigade—Filling the gap—General Turner's move—Loss of British guns—Canadian valour—St. Julien—Attack on the wood—Terrible fire—Officer casualties—Reinforcements—Geddes detachment—Second Canadian Brigade bent back—Desperate position—Terrible casualties—Col. Birchall's death—Magnificent artillery work—Canadian left saved—Canadians relieved—Story of 3rd Brigade—Gas attack on Canadians—Canadian recovery—Major Norsworthy killed—Major McCuaig's stand—Disaster averted—Col. Hart-McHarg killed—Major Odlum—General Alderson's efforts—British reinforce Canadians—3rd Brigade withdraws—General Currie stands fast—Trenches wiped out—Fresh gas attack—Germans take St. Julien—British cheer Canadians—Canadians relieved—Heroism of men—Col. Watson's dangerous mission—The Ghurkas' dead—Record of all units—Our graveyard in Flanders.
"If my neighbour fails, more devolves upon me."
—WORDSWORTH.
"Gloucester, 'tis true that we are in great danger;
The greater therefore should our courage be."
—SHAKESPEARE.
The fighting in April, in which the Canadians played so glorious a part, cannot, of course, be described with precision of military detail until time has made possible the co-ordination of all the relevant diaries, and the piecing together in a narrative both lucid and exact of much which is confused and blurred.[[1]]
Map of Ypres and area
The battle which raged for so many days in the neighbourhood of Ypres was bloody, even as men appraise battles in this callous and life-engulfing war. But as long as brave deeds retain the power to fire the blood of Anglo-Saxons, the stand made by the Canadians in those desperate days will be told by fathers to their sons; for in the military records of Canada this defence will shine as brightly as, in the records of the British Army, the stubborn valour with which Sir James Macdonnel and the Guards beat back from Hougoumont the Division of Foy and the Army Corps of Reille.
The Canadians wrested from the trenches, over the bodies of the dead and maimed, the right to stand side by side with the superb troops who, in the first battle of Ypres, broke and drove before them the flower of the Prussian Guards.
Looked at from any point, the performance would be remarkable. It is amazing to soldiers, when the genesis and composition of the Canadian Division are considered. It contained, no doubt, a sprinkling of South African veterans, but it consisted in the main of men who were admirable raw material, but who at the outbreak of war were neither disciplined nor trained, as men count discipline and training in these days of scientific warfare.
It was, it is true, commanded by a distinguished English general. Its staff was supplemented, without being replaced, by some brilliant British staff officers. But in its higher and regimental commands were to be found lawyers, college professors, business men, and real estate agents, ready with cool self-confidence to do battle against an organisation in which the study of military science is the exclusive pursuit of laborious lives. With what devotion, with a valour how desperate, with resourcefulness how cool and how fruitful, the amateur soldiers of Canada confronted overwhelming odds may, perhaps, be made clear even by a narrative so incomplete as this.
The salient of Ypres has become familiar to all students of the campaign in Flanders. Like all salients, it was, and was known to be, a source of weakness to the forces holding it; but the reasons which have led to its retention are apparent, and need not be explained.
On April 22nd the Canadian Division held a line of, roughly, five thousand yards, extending in a north-westerly direction from the Ypres-Roulers railway to the Ypres-Poelcappelle road, and connecting at its terminus with the French troops.[[2]] The Division consisted of three infantry brigades, in addition to the artillery brigades. Of the infantry brigades the first was in reserve, the second was on the right, and the third established contact with the Allies at the point indicated above.
The day was a peaceful one, warm and sunny, and except that the previous day had witnessed a further bombardment of the stricken town of Ypres,[[3]] everything seemed quiet in front of the Canadian line. At five o'clock in the afternoon a plan, carefully prepared, was put into execution against our French allies on the left. Asphyxiating gas of great intensity was projected into their trenches, probably by means of force pumps and pipes laid out under the parapets.
The fumes, aided by a favourable wind, floated backwards, poisoning and disabling over an extended area those who fell under their effects. The result was that the French were compelled to give ground for a considerable distance.[[4]] The glory which the French Army has won in this war would make it impertinent to labour the compelling nature of the poisonous discharges under which the trenches were lost. The French did, as everyone knew they would, all that stout soldiers could, and the Canadian Division, officers and men, look forward to many occasions in the future in which they will stand side by side with the brave armies of France.
The immediate consequences of this enforced withdrawal were, of course, extremely grave. The 3rd Brigade of the Canadian Division was without any left, or, in other words, its left was "in the air." The following rough diagrams may make the position clear.
Map—Ypres—POSITION BEFORE DISCHARGE OF GAS
Contrast this with the diagram on the following page.
Map—Ypres—POSITION AFTER DISCHARGE OF GAS
It became imperatively necessary greatly to extend the Canadian lines to the left rear. It was not, of course, practicable to move the 1st Brigade from reserve at a moment's notice, and the line, extended from 5,000 to 9,000 yards, was naturally not the line that had been held by the Allies at five o'clock, and a gap still existed on its left. The new line, of which our recent point of contact with the French formed the apex, ran, quite roughly, as follows:—
Map—Ypres—POSITION ON FRIDAY MORNING
As shown above, it became necessary for Brigadier-general Turner (now Major-General), commanding the 3rd Brigade, to throw back his left flank southward, to protect his rear. In the course of the confusion which followed on the readjustment of the position, the enemy, who had advanced rapidly after his initial successes, took four British 4.7 guns, lent by the 2nd London Division to support the French, in a small wood to the west of the village of St. Julien, two miles in the rear of the original French trenches.
The story of the second battle of Ypres is the story of how the Canadian Division, enormously outnumbered—for they had in front of them at least four divisions, supported by immensely heavy artillery—with a gap still existing, though reduced, in their lines, and with dispositions made hurriedly under the stimulus of critical danger, fought through the day and through the night, and then through another day and night; fought under their officers: until, as happened to so many, these perished, gloriously, and then fought from the impulsion of sheer valour because they came from fighting stock.
The enemy, of course, was aware—whether fully or not may perhaps be doubted—of the advantage his breach in the line had given him, and immediately began to push a formidable series of attacks on the whole of the newly-formed Canadian salient. If it is possible to distinguish, when the attack was everywhere so fierce, it developed with particular intensity at this moment on the apex of the newly-formed line running in the direction of St. Julien.
It has already been stated that four British guns were taken in a wood comparatively early in the evening of April 22nd. The General Officer Commanding the Canadian Division had no intention of allowing the enemy to retain possession of either the wood or the guns without a desperate struggle, and he ordered a counter-attack towards the wood to be made by the 3rd Infantry Brigade under General Turner. This Brigade was then reinforced by the 2nd Battalion under Lieut.-Colonel (now Brigadier-General) Watson and the 3rd (Toronto) Battalion under Lieut.-Colonel Rennie (now also a Brigadier-General), both of the 1st Brigade. The 7th Battalion (British Columbia Regiment), from the 2nd Brigade, had by this time occupied entrenchments in support of the 3rd Brigade. The 10th Battalion of the 2nd Brigade, intercepted on its way up as a working party, was also placed in support of the 3rd Brigade.
The assault upon the wood was launched shortly after midnight of April 22nd-23rd by the 10th Battalion and 16th (Canadian Scottish) Battalion, respectively commanded by Lieut.-Colonel Boyle and Lieut.-Colonel (now Brigadier-General) R. G. E. Leckie. The advance was made under the heaviest machine gun and rifle fire, the wood was reached, and, after a desperate struggle by the light of a misty moon, they took the position at the point of the bayonet.
An officer who took part in the attack describes how the men about him fell under the fire of the machine guns, which, in his phrase, played upon them "like a watering pot." He added quite simply, "I wrote my own life off." But the line never wavered.
When one man fell another took his place, and, with a final shout, the survivors of the two Battalions flung themselves into the wood. The German garrison was completely demoralised, and the impetuous advance of the Canadians did not cease until they reached the far side of the wood and entrenched themselves there in the position so dearly gained. They had, however, the disappointment of finding that the guns had been destroyed by the enemy, and later in the same night, a most formidable concentration of artillery fire, sweeping the wood as a tropical storm sweeps the leaves from the trees of a forest, made it impossible for them to hold the position for which they had sacrificed so much.
Map—St. Julien and area
Within a few hours of this attack, the 10th Canadian Battalion was again ordered to advance by Lieut.-Colonel Boyle, late a rancher in the neighbourhood of Calgary. The assault was made upon a German trench which was being hastily constructed within two hundred yards of the Battalion's right front. Machine gun and rifle fire opened upon the Battalion at the moment the charge was begun, and Colonel Boyle fell almost instantly with his left thigh pierced in five places. Major MacLaren, his second in command, was also wounded at this time. Battalion stretcher-bearers dressed the Colonel's wounds and carried him back to the Battalion first aid station. From there he was moved to Vlamertinghe Field Hospital, and from there again to Poperinghe. He was unconscious when he reached the hospital, and died shortly afterwards without regaining consciousness.
Major MacLaren, already wounded, was killed by a shell while on his way to the hospital. The command of the 10th Battalion passed to Major D. M. Ormond, who was wounded. Major Guthrie, a lawyer from Fredericton, New Brunswick, a member of the local Parliament and a very resolute soldier, then took command of the Battalion.
The fighting continued without intermission all through the night of April 22nd-23rd, and to those who observed the indications that the attack was being pushed with ever-growing strength, it hardly seemed possible that the Canadians, fighting in positions so difficult to defend and so little the subject of deliberate choice, could maintain their resistance for any long period.
Reinforcements of British troops, commanded by Colonel Geddes, of the Buffs, began to arrive in the gap early on Friday morning. These reinforcements, consisting of three and a half battalions of the 28th Division—drawn from the Buffs, King's Own Royal Leinsters, Middlesex, and York and Lancasters—and other units which joined them from time to time, became known as Geddes' Detachment. The grenadier company of a battalion of the Northumberland Fusiliers, numbering two officers and 120 men, who were on their way to rejoin their division after eight days of trench-fighting at Hill 60, encountered Colonel Geddes' force and joined it.[[5]]
At 6 a.m. on Friday, the 2nd Canadian Brigade was still intact, but the 3rd Canadian Brigade, on the left, was bent back upon St. Julien. It became apparent that the left was becoming more and more involved, and a powerful German attempt to outflank it developed rapidly. The consequences, if it had been broken or outflanked, need not be insisted upon. They would not have been merely local.
It was therefore decided, formidable as the attempt undoubtedly was, to try to give relief by a counter-attack upon the first line of German trenches, now far, far advanced from those originally occupied by the French. The attack was carried out at 6.30 a.m. by the 1st (Ontario) Battalion and the 4th Battalion of the 1st Brigade, under Brigadier-General Mercer, acting with Geddes' Detachment. The 4th Battalion was in advance and the 1st in support, under the covering fire of the 1st Canadian Artillery Brigade.
It is safe to say that the youngest private in the ranks, as he set his teeth for the advance, knew the task in front of him, and the youngest subaltern knew all that rested on its success. It did not seem that any human being could live in the shower of shot and shell which began to play upon the advancing troops.
They suffered terrible casualties. For a short time every other man seemed to fall, but the attack was pressed ever closer and closer. The 4th Canadian Battalion at one moment came under a particularly withering fire. For a moment—not more—it wavered. Its most gallant Commanding Officer, Lieut.-Colonel Birchall, carrying, after an old fashion, a light cane, coolly and cheerfully rallied his men, and at the very moment when his example had infected them, fell dead at the head of his Battalion. With a hoarse cry of anger they sprang forward (for, indeed, they loved him) as if to avenge his death.
The astonishing attack which followed, pushed home in the face of direct frontal fire, made in broad daylight by battalions whose names should live for ever in the memories of soldiers, was carried to the first line of the German trenches. After a hand-to-hand struggle, the last German who resisted was bayoneted, and the trench was won.
The measure of our success may be taken when it is pointed out that this trench represented, in the German advance, the apex in the breach which the enemy had made in the original line of the Allies, and that it was two and a half miles south of that line. This charge, made by men who looked death indifferently in the face—for no man who took part in it could think that he was likely to live—saved, and that was much, the Canadian left. But it did more.
Map—1st Canadian Division situation at 7 a.m. April 23rd, 1915
Up to the point where the assailants conquered, or died, it secured and maintained during the most critical moment of all, the integrity of the Allied line. For the trench was not only taken—it was held thereafter against all comers, and in the teeth of every conceivable projectile, until the night of Sunday, April 25th, when all that remained of the war-broken but victorious battalions was relieved by fresh troops.
In this attack, the work of the 1st Artillery Brigade was extremely efficient. Under the direction of Lieut.-Colonel Morrison, whose services have gained him the command of the artillery of the 2nd Division with the rank of Brigadier-General, the battery of four 18-pounders was strengthened, in the afternoon, with two heavier guns.
Captain T. E. Powers, of the Signal Company attached to General Mercer's command, maintained communication throughout with the advanced line of the attack under a heavy shell fire that cut the signal wires continually. The work of the Company was admirable, and was rendered at the price of many casualties.