BEFORE VIMY
In the course of ten days we arrived at Bully-Grenay, situated in the
very heart of the mining district, three mines being located in the town
itself. We were still working on the Vimy Ridge proposition. At no time
in France were our quarters more comfortable than here; each gun of my
battery was stationed in the cellar of a private house on the outskirts
of the town from which the civilians had been shelled, and at night in
the midst of a game of cards, or engaged in our letter writing, or
reading, when we got the "S.O.S." signal, the lanyard was at my hand and
I had only to pull the rope. Our quarters were heated by coal purchased
direct from the mine and furnished to us at ten cents per bag. Every
mine in this place was worked only at night, the smoke of the industry
indicating to Fritz where to plant his shells; therefore, the entire
coal mining was done during the hours of sleep.
The Huns were making a most determined effort to get possession of
Bully-Grenay and these most valuable coal mines, and they were anxiously
looking forward to the time when they could attack successfully, and
knowing how vital to us it was to get out this coal, they concentrated
their efforts through the daytime on the mine shafts in an effort to
destroy them; but having no smoke signals to guide their fire, their
efforts generally were futile.
A notable instance of the spirit controlling our ideas of warfare was
splendidly illustrated in this particular sector. Among the captured
French mines that the Germans were working was one in close proximity to
a church, of whose existence they took particular pains to let us know;
and the church, in addition to being used as a protection for the mine,
was also used as a camouflage for one of their batteries, the guns being
placed immediately in front of it. It is repugnant to the very soul of a
British soldier to level his gun at a church, so Fritz was able to get
away with his camouflage.
On the morning of the third day of our visit here we were treated to
another superb example of _kultur_. The school children were playing in
the school yard and Fritz dropped a shell in their midst, killing and
wounding several, following it up by two others that smashed the
schoolhouse. A panic followed among the teachers and children, and the
only thing we could do at the time was to stand there and watch the
devilishness. Some of the men of an infantry battalion who were billeted
on the outskirts of the town, rushed to the school and carried out the
wounded and dead. If Fritz could have seen and heard the maddened fury
of those rescuers as they carried out the maimed and bleeding little
ones, his first thought would have been to have given them as wide a
berth as possible; but when they did meet,--God help them!
At 1:00 o'clock in the morning Fritz opened up with gas shells,
smothering the civilian population, and the people who were running out
of the town, choking and suffocating, brought to my mind a most vivid
recollection of the city of Ypres. How can I describe the agony, the
despair on the faces of the inoffending citizens who were having their
homes blasted to bits, their lungs choked with suffocation, separated
from their loved ones in the wild scramble of the night for shelter and
safety! Any place, anywhere but there!
Donning our helmets we got to our guns and waited for orders, which we
presently received. I never worked with more love and energy than I did
that night, and never did I spit more liberally on each individual shell
as it was shoved into place for departure. Inside of twenty minutes
Fritzie decided that the pastime of shelling Bully-Grenay with gas
shells was not as funny as it was cracked up to be; he broke off short
and quick.
In the two weeks following we were at Estari Chic, another Vimy Ridge
position. Here we were stationed at the horse lines. While there, an
order was issued that we could not buy bread from the civilian
population for the reason that our military authorities considered the
rations we were getting were sufficient for all our needs. The
shop-keepers were quite willing to sell any soldier, however, and we
were more than anxious to get his bread if we could safely do so. The
manner in which we disobeyed orders was as follows: The bake-shop was
about half-a-mile from our billet and we had to pass several policemen
on the way down; two fellows would stand outside the building while I
went inside and purchased the bread, and if policemen were seen coming,
the man nearest to the officer would give the signal and I would duck
off into an alley-way and up the back streets into the billet, and it
would not be long before my outpost would join me; then the jam would be
produced and in short order the delicious French bread and jam would be
winding its way down into our voracious stomachs.
We left this point for Camblain-le-Abbeau for another nip at the ridge
from that angle, pulled into the wagon lines for two days and then got
into action on the Lens-Arras road. We laid the guns on the side of the
road, camouflaging them in the usual fashion. We were the first
battalion to arrive, but within four days 100 or more batteries were
there. Our work here was to cut the wire in preparation for one of the
usual raids, to blind Fritz and keep him guessing where the drive was to
be launched. We performed our work flawlessly, the boys of the infantry
going over through the gaps we had made and capturing several machine
guns and prisoners.
On the second day following, the Captain asked me to go into the
trenches to assist him in observation work. We found after inspection
that the point we wanted to get our data upon could not be obtained
from the low-lying trenches, and the Captain, wondering where we had
best go, happened to get his fancy settled on a mine shaft. "We will go
up there, Grant," he said, and together we made our way to the spot. The
climb to the top was no easy matter, and when we got there we set about
making ourselves as comfortable as possible. As soon as we had our
apparatus working, the Captain commenced registering the cemetery, the
tombstones of which were being carried away by Fritz to place around his
dugouts. The Captain flashed the necessary information and in ten
minutes they were pretty thoroughly shot up.
The Captain then directed his attention to a trench digging party, sent
his compliments to the guns--would they kindly take care of the trench
digging party, which they did. Then we were spotted; in a few seconds we
were the recipients of a blast of machine-gun fire; a _minenwerfer_
dropped at the foot of the mine shaft, blowing the entire corner away,
and it became very evident the place was ours no longer, and we started
for the bottom.
In going down it was necessary for me to execute a sort of slide, as I
had to hang on with my hands while my feet were going down, and the
Captain, in his naturally human haste to get to a place of safety,
inadvertently trod on my fingers.
"For God's sake, Captain," I yelled, "get off my fingers!"
"Take your damned fingers out of my way!" replied the Captain.
"How can I? Your foot is on them!" He eased up a bit and I was able to
release my mangled fingers, but Lord! he weighed about 200 pounds.
Now Captain Black was a man who was absolutely afraid of nothing in
human shape; his fighting spirit is unbeatable; every man in the battery
can testify to his absolute fearlessness, and I am glad to lend my
humble testament to his unquestionable bravery. However, in going down
the shaft the shots were coming thick and fast, and it was the most
natural thing in the world for him to tread on my fingers in his desire
to avoid the sniping shell or machine-gun bullet, but my fingers were
sadly in need of repair by the time we got to the bottom.
When we reached the foot we got into the shell hole blasted out by the
_minenwerfer_ that had torn the corner of the shaft away. We had not yet
completed our observations and Cap decided he would try the top of the
slag heap. To the top we crawled, placing our periscope and telephone in
position, and were nicely settled and doing good work, the Captain
congratulating himself audibly on his bright thought in selecting this
spot, when his congratulations were cut short by a shell smashing the
periscope glass, followed by a _minenwerfer_ striking the bottom of the
slag heap, making another huge excavation and causing the slag at the
top to roll down from under us, taking us with it. But the Cap was not
to be driven away so easily. "Come on, Grant, let's try it again," and
up we went again, and again another large shell at the bottom of the
pile caused a cave-in, and down we rolled. Still the Captain had not
enough, and up we went a third time. The same thing happened again, the
shells tearing away a large hole at the bottom of the slag heap, causing
the slag on which we were standing to give way and carrying us to the
bottom. By this time the shells were showering the entire place and
Captain Black reluctantly decided that it was no go, and we gave it up.
It was during the stay of my battery on the Lens-Arras road, during the
Vimy Ridge preparation, that I again personally encountered Fritz in
the form of his spy system. One night after the guns had been oiled and
prepared for their next job, and we were all busy cleaning up the
ammunition for the work in hand, I was accosted by a couple of British
officers, a Captain and a Major.
"Sergeant, would you kindly help us to a drink of water?" said the
Major. "Certainly, sir," I answered, saluting; "if you will wait here a
moment I will get it for you."
"Thank you," they replied, and I went for the water. Returning I found
the Major with one of our shells in his hand and the Captain examining
the gun.
"She's a beauty, Sergeant," said the Captain.
"Yes, sir," I smilingly answered, "and she is just as good as she is
beautiful,--never kicks or falters."
"By Jove!" laughed the Major, "that's a good one. How many messages did
you send them last night, Sergeant?"
"None, sir."
"You don't say! Why I thought I heard you firing. Where is your battery
operating?"
"Oh, we just sent off a few rounds at the crossroads."
"She seems to have been doing her bit today all right."
While conversing with the Major, I noticed the Captain talking with one
of my men about the gun sight and, hastily excusing myself to the Major,
I went over to him. "Pardon me for interrupting. Billy, you had better
go over to the Major and tell him the gun is ready at once for
inspection."
Billy excused himself to the Captain and started off. The officers then
prepared to leave.
"Won't you wait a moment, sir, and see the Major? He will be right
over."
"Well, we will see him on our way back. We're in a kind of a hurry,
Sergeant." And they bade me good night and left.
There was something told me that all was not well with these men, but
the suspicion had not become sufficiently rooted in my head to find
expression, and, consequently, I said nothing at the time.
The very next morning after inspection, orders were read and in the
instructions were explicit descriptions of two British officers who were
German agents and who were making the rounds of the lines, picking up
information wherever they could, and commanding all ranks to be on the
lookout and arrest them on sight, shooting them if they resisted, and
offering a prize of ten pounds to the man who succeeded in effecting
their arrest. "Good Lord!" I thought. "What a miss!" If my wits had been
properly working, I would have been ten pounds the richer, together with
a four-weeks' leave of absence.
These audacious agents had visited all sections and doubtless had
acquired a store of general information, and headquarters urged a most
rigorous search for them. The following night they were spotted in a
French _estaminet_, by a bunch of sharp-eyed Tommies, and, as luck would
have it, the men were chatting about the ten-pound prize for capturing
these same fellows, and their mouths were watering at the picture that
each one of them was painting of what he would do if he only had the
prize.
"I'll tell 'e what it is," said one, "if my blinkers falls on them chaps
I'll wet the whole damned outfit!"
As they entered, the soldier's eye went over the room and lit on the
very men in question, seated by themselves in a little side room of the
inn. In a low tone he communicated his thought to his companions.
"Blime me, I'll eat your mother-in-law if there ain't our meat!" There
was about 20 in the bunch, and they did not waste time in consultation.
At once they were in the anteroom, confronting these men.
"What do you want?" gruffly asked the Major.
"We have to come to tell you, sir, that the O.C. wants to see you and
the Captain at once."
"All right, tell your O.C. we will be over directly."
"'E wants you now, sir."
"Well, didn't you hear me say we'd be over there shortly?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, damn you, tell him so, and I'll see that you are taken care of
for your impertinence."
"I don't mean to be impertinent, sir, but I'm here to see that you come
and come now."
Like a flash both men drew their revolvers, but before they had a chance
to use them, the entire bunch was on top of them, and it was a somewhat
mussed up Major and Captain that appeared before the O.C. at the
headquarters of the Tommies who sleuthed them. The intuition of the
soldier proved correct; with absolute certainty he had falconed his prey
and the prize was his.
And he was as good as his word. What that bunch didn't have to eat and
drink while the money lasted wasn't purchaseable at the front.