THE BATTLE OF ST. ELOI
No one realizes better than I the utter futility of attempting to
describe a modern battle so that the reader can really understand or
visualize it. There are no words in any vocabulary that convey the
emotions and thoughts of persons during the long days and nights of
horror--of the continual crash of the shells, the melting away or
total annihilation of parapets and dug-outs; being buried and
spattered with mud and blood; with dead and wounded everywhere and,
worst of all, the pitiful ravings of those whose nerves have suddenly
given way from shell shock. No imagination can grasp it; no picture
can more than suggest a small part of it. None who has not had the
actual experience can ever understand it. The hospital and ambulance
people back at the rear see some of the results, but even they can
have no conception of what it is like to be actually in the torment
and hell-fire _at the front_.
I could not, if I so desired, give an accurate description of the
operations in general. I have not the necessary data as to the various
troops engaged or local results accomplished. Historians will record
all that. My field of description is limited to my field of personal
observation, which was not very extensive. I suppose, however, that I
saw as much as it was possible for any one person to see, so I shall
try to describe that part of the battle of St. Eloi in which it was my
fortune to participate.
At the point at the southern end of the Ypres salient, where the line
turns sharply to the eastward, stood the village of St. Eloi. It
consisted of perhaps fifteen or twenty buildings of the substantial
brick and iron construction characteristic of all Flemish towns and
was situated at the intersection of the two main roads paved with
granite blocks, one running to Ypres and the other through
Voormezeele. The village itself, except for two or three outlying
buildings, was inside our lines. The portion held by the enemy,
however, included a prominent eminence, called the "Mound," which
dominated our whole line for a mile or more. This mound had been a
bone of contention for more than a year and several desperate attempts
had been made to take it; notably in February and in March, 1915, when
the Princess Pat's were so terribly cut up and lost their first
Commanding Officer, Colonel Farquhar. All these attempts having
failed, our engineers proceeded to drive tunnels and lay mines, six in
number, so as to cut off the point of the German salient for a
distance of about six hundred yards.
All was completed; mines loaded and ready, and the time for the attack
was fixed for daybreak of the twenty-seventh of March. The mines were
to be fired simultaneously, followed immediately by an attack, in
force, by the Royal Fusiliers, the Northumberland Fusiliers and a
battalion of the West Yorkshires. Our brigade (Fourth Canadian) was
immediately to the right of the point of attack, but, as the Imperial
troops had changed their machine guns for the lighter Lewis automatic
rifles to be used with the advancing troops, it was deemed advisable
to bring up all available machine guns of the heavier types to
support the advance and to resist the inevitable counter-attacks.
These guns, twelve in number, were placed at advantageous positions on
the flanks of the attacking troops. I was only a sergeant at that
time, but, having been an officer, and having had more actual
experience in machine-gun work than the others, the direct supervision
of these guns was entrusted to me.
_ST. ELOI MAP_
_The map on the opposite page is known as St. Eloi map. It is
particularly interesting as showing, very faintly, a great group
of mine craters within the British lines. No. 1 can be seen in
the lower left section just above the horizontal fold in the map
and to the left of the perpendicular. Here the British line comes
in at the lower left corner, where it almost immediately
branches, passing through figures 44 and 77, joining the main
line again at the left and below Shelley Farm. Within this loop
are the six enormous mine craters. No. 2 is immediately to the
right of figure 96, while 3, 4 and 5 are in a line with it just
to the right of the perpendicular fold. The faint dotted line
that comes to an apex just below St. Eloi is the British trench
known as Queen Victoria Street. This map is made from air
photographs dated March 5th, 1916._
[Illustration: St. Eloi Map]
We got all the guns up and in place during the night of the
twenty-sixth. In addition, our people brought up a great many trench
mortars of different calibers, with enormous quantities of ammunition.
We then sat down to wait for the "zero" hour, meaning the time for the
show to begin. I took my position at our extreme left, as I wanted to
be where I could see everything.
Promptly at the appointed time, the mines were fired and then ensued
the most appallingly magnificent sight I have ever witnessed. There
was little noise but the very earth appeared to writhe and tremble in
agony. Then, slowly, it seemed in the dim light, the ground heaved up
and up until, finally, bursting all bonds, earth, trees, buildings,
trenches and men went skyward. Immediately followed great clouds of
flaming gas, expanding and growing like gigantic red roses suddenly
bursting into full bloom. It was an earthquake, followed by a volcanic
eruption.
Before the flying debris had reached the ground the Fusiliers were
over the top, fighting their way through the jungles of wire and shell
craters. The occupation of the mine craters themselves was, of course,
unopposed as there was no one there to offer opposition. They kept on,
however, meeting the German reinforcements coming up from the rear,
fighting them to a standstill and establishing themselves beyond the
Mound.
Then all hell broke loose. From the beginning our artillery, machine
guns and trench mortars had been maintaining a continuous fire, but
the Germans, taken by surprise, were several minutes getting started.
When they did open up, however, they gave us the greatest
demonstration of accurate and unlimited artillery fire which I, or any
of us, for that matter, had ever seen. The air seemed to be literally
full of shells bursting like a million fire-flies. Our parapets were
blown down in a hundred places and the air was filled with flying
sand-bags, iron beams and timbers. A shell struck under the gun by
which I was standing and flung gun, tripod, ammunition-box and all,
high into the air. Even under such conditions I could not help
laughing at the ridiculous sight of that gun as it spun around in the
air, with the legs of the tripod sticking stiffly out and the belt of
ammunition coiling and uncoiling around it, like a serpent. The
lance-corporal in charge of it looked on, spell-bound, and when it
finally came down back of a dug-out, he looked at me with a most
peculiar expression and said: "Well, what do you think of that?" Then
he jumped up and went after the wreckage and, strange to relate, not a
thing was broken. After about twenty minutes of stripping and cleaning
he had the gun back on the parapet, shooting away as though nothing
had happened. He was an Irishman, named Meeks.
I walked down the trench to get a spare barrel for a gun when a shell
struck about ten feet in front, killing a man. I started on and
another lit exactly where I had been standing. During that little trip
of perhaps fifty yards and back I was knocked down and partly buried
no less than four times.
Then the prisoners commenced to come back. They appeared to be glad to
get out of it and I don't blame them. When they found that they had to
go through the Canadian's lines, however, they held back. They had
been told that the Canadians killed all prisoners. (We had heard
something of the same kind about the Germans, too.) However, when our
cooks came out with "dixies" full of steaming tea, with bread and
marmalade sandwiches, they soon became reconciled. Our men made no
distinction that morning between captor and captive, serving all alike
with everything we had to eat or drink. At one time, however, owing to
the congestion in the trench, we were compelled to "shoo" a lot of the
prisoners back "overland," to the next support trench. As their
artillery was raising merry hell all over that section, they were a
bit backward about starting and it required threats and a display of
bayonets to get them out of the trench and on their way. It was a
funny sight to see them beat it. There was little in the way of
obstacles to impede their progress and I think that several of them
came near to establishing new world's records for the distance. When
they arrived at the second line they wasted no time in climbing down
into it; they went in head-first, like divers going into the water. I
don't think any of them was hit during this maneuver, at least I did
not see any of them fall.
Now, it has come to be an axiom that "any one can take a trench but
few can hold one." It is another way of expressing the idea that "it
isn't the original cost--it's the upkeep."
It was no trick at all, with the assistance of the mines, to advance
our lines to what had been the German third line, but, right there,
some one had made a miscalculation. It's a cinch our "higher-ups" did
not know how much artillery the Germans had that they could turn on
that salient. Our own artillery had been greatly increased and they
evidently thought we were at least equal to the enemy in this respect,
but, say: the stuff he turned loose on us made our artillery look like
pikers. For every "whizz-bang" we sent over he returned about a dozen
5.9's. By that night, nearly all the original attackers were gone and
Fritz was back in at least two of the craters.
During the day a good many of us, including all our stretcher-bearers,
made many trips through the devastated German trenches, getting out
wounded and collecting arms and other plunder. I went up where the
Fusiliers were trying to consolidate their position, intending to
bring up a few guns if it appeared to be practicable, but abandoned
the idea as, in my opinion, they were due to be shelled out within a
short time, which proved to be correct. We did dig out and mount a
German gun which was used for a while, but I then had it taken, with
several others, back to our line. We could do so much more good from
our original position by maintaining a continuous barrage to hamper
the enemy in getting up supports. From prisoners taken later we
learned that our machine-gun barrage was much more effective than that
of our artillery. However, as we were obliged to fire from temporary
positions, on the parapet and without cover of any kind, it was
impossible to prevent the loss of some guns by direct hits from
shells. During that night and the next day a Highland brigade came up
to relieve the Fusiliers. They included battalions of the Royal Scots
and the Gordons.
By this time the Germans had brought up more guns and were keeping up
such a terrific fire on our position that it did not seem humanly
possible to hold it, but that night a bombing attack by the Fourth
Canadian Brigade bombers, reinforced by about two hundred volunteers,
retook the craters and reestablished our line in a more advanced
position than that occupied by the original attackers. This line was
thereafter called the Canadian trench to distinguish it from the
other, which was called the British trench.
Early next morning we had a chance to see some of the "Kilties"
in action with the bayonet, during a counter-attack, which they
repulsed. As I remember it, they did very little shooting but jumped
out of their trench to meet the attackers with the cold steel. I never
saw any lot of soldiers who seemed so utterly determined to wipe out
all opposition. They were like wild men; savage and blood-thirsty in
the onslaught and, although the Germans must have outnumbered them at
least three to one, they never had a chance against those brawny
Scots. But few of the boches got back to their own line and no
prisoners were taken. We then appreciated the nickname given by the
Germans (first applied to Canadian Highlanders at Langemarck, but
afterward used to designate all "Kilties"), "The Ladies from Hell."
From that time the Canadians were alone in the fight. The Fusiliers,
having started it, faded away, and the Scots, after a few brief days,
likewise vanished and for two months or more St. Eloi was a continuous
struggle between the Second Canadian Division and at least four
German Divisions, including some of the infamous Prussian Guards.
During the next twelve days the righting was almost uninterrupted.
Troops came in and troops went out, but the Emma Gees held on,
forever, as it seemed to us. But few remained of the original gun
crews who started the engagement. Not all had been killed or wounded,
but it had been necessary to relieve some who were utterly exhausted.
How I kept going is a mystery to me as it was to others at the time.
One thing which probably helped was the fact that I never, for one
minute, permitted myself to think of anything except the matter of
keeping those guns going. Sentiment I absolutely cast out. I was
nothing but a cold-blooded machine. Good friends were killed but I
gave them no thought other than to get the bodies out of the trench so
that we need not step on them. To tie up and assist wounded was a mere
matter of routine. In no other way could I have withstood the awful
strain. I was hit, slightly, on several occasions but never severely
enough to necessitate my going out. A dug-out in which I had a table
where I wrote reports and figured firing data was hit no less than
three times while I was in it, finally becoming a total wreck. The
fact that I was not killed a hundred times was due to just that many
miracles--nothing less. My leather jacket and my tunic were cut to
shreds by bits of shell, a bullet went through my cap and another
grazed my head so close as to raise a red welt, but that same old
"luck" which had become proverbial in the battalion, still held and I
was not seriously injured.
Our troubles were not all caused by artillery fire by any means. Fritz
had a large and varied assortment of "Minenwerfer" with which to
entertain us at all hours, day and night. A good many people, even
among the soldiers themselves, think that Minenwerfer or "Minnie" for
short, is the name of the projectile or torpedo, while, as a matter of
fact, it is the instrument which throws it; a literal translation
being "mine-thrower." In the same way they often speak of the
shells thrown by trench mortars as "trench mortars" themselves. Now
the family of "Minnies" is a large one and includes every device, from
the ancient types used by the Greeks and Romans, with springs of wood,
to the latest and most modern contraption in which the propelling
power may be steel springs, compressed air or a small charge of
powder. In its smallest form it is simply a "rifle grenade," somewhat
similar to a hand grenade or ordinary "bomb," to which is attached a
rod of brass or iron which slips down into the bore of the regular
service rifle and is fired with a blank cartridge. Other and newer
types are without this rod but have vanes or rudders affixed to the
rear end which serve to guide the projectile in its flight. These
usually have a hole through the center through which the bullet passes
and can thus be used with the regular service ammunition. This whole
class, embracing everything from the small "pineapples," fired from
the rifle, to the monstrous "aerial torpedoes," are commonly spoken of
as "fish-tails."
The shells from the trench mortars proper, and most of the
"fish-tail" family, are somewhat similar to ordinary artillery shells
in that they are made of steel or iron and designed to burst into
small fragments, each of which constitutes a deadly missile. On the
other hand, the "mines" thrown by the Minenwerfer, are merely light
sheet-metal containers for heavy charges of high explosives (T. N. T.
or tri-nitro-toluol as a rule), and depend for their effectiveness on
the shock and blasting effect of the detonation. They have been
increasing in size continually. At first we called them "sausages,"
then "rum-jars" (they resembled the ordinary one-gallon rum jar in
size and shape), then they became "flying pigs" and by this time, I
have no doubt, new and still more expressive names have been applied
to them.
The havoc created in a trench by one of the large ones passes belief.
The strongest dug-out is wiped out in a twinkle; whole sections of
parapet are obliterated, and where was a strong, well-built wall eight
feet or more in height there remains a hole or "crater" fifteen or
twenty feet in diameter and several feet deep. Any man who happens to
be within this area is, of course, blown to atoms, while frequently
men in the near vicinity, but not exposed to the direct blast, are
killed instantaneously by the shock. Medical men say that the effect
is identical to that known as "caisson sickness," and is caused by the
formation of bubbles of carbonic acid gas in the blood vessels. Not
being a "medico" I can not vouch for this, but you can take it for
what it is worth.
In daylight it is not difficult to dodge these devilish things and
even at night, if they come one at a time, it is possible to escape
the most of them, but when they come over in flocks, as they sometimes
do, it is more a matter of luck than anything else.