BITS OF WAR
One of the bravest officers I ever met is the hero of the following
story. He was in the front line trenches for the first time, and was
very eager to go "over the top." He devoured every story told by the
officers in the dugout of their prowess in fighting the Hun. We could
all see in his cherubic countenance that he believed everything he was
told.
The dugout was rather cramped for space and not at all comfortable, so
that when one of the Junior Subs asked him if he would like to take a
walk, he readily assented. The hour was about midnight, and the Junior
Sub informed him that as soon as he made arrangements with his N.C.O.
they would take the desired walk. Arrangements having been made, our
"hero" was informed that all was in readiness, and the little party set
out.
Imagine the amazement of Lieutenant F. when the Junior Sub and the
N.C.O. climbed out of the front line trench into No Man's Land. Our
"hero" whispered these words: "Where are you going? I thought you were
going for a walk?" "So we are," replied the Junior Sub. "We are going
to take a walk to Fritz's barbed-wire entanglements. Are you afraid
to come?" The reply was, "No, but I am just a little disappointed.
I thought when you asked me to take a walk that you were going back
towards the support line. However, I am not afraid."
He then immediately climbed out, and in his hurry fell into a shell
hole just outside of our barbed-wire entanglements. As he fell, he
shouted, and with the shout up went some German flares that illuminated
their sector of No Man's Land. Before the flares died out, the machine
guns of Fritz began to search out the spot. Our hero had sense enough
to keep in a shell hole and, after the lights had died down, he heard
the voice of the N.C.O. who had crawled on his stomach to the lip of
the shell hole, asking him if he had lost anything. He afterwards told
me that if he had answered truthfully he would have said "Yes," as his
nerve had played him false.
However, he replied, "No, I have not lost anything, but I have found
something."
He had by then regained his courage, so he moved like a veteran towards
the German wire entanglements. Having accomplished their mission, they
returned to our trenches, the Junior Sub and the N.C.O. leading. As
they disappeared into the trench, our hero had just got to the shell
hole where he had fallen in previously. In his haste to reach the
trench, he was caught on the entanglements by one leg, with the result
that he was thrown to the ground.
Again he shouted, but this brought a quick reply from the Huns. The
flares were sent up and then began a fusilade of machine-gun fire at
our luckless hero, with the result that the baggy part of his breeches
was riddled with bullets. But, strange to say, he himself did not
receive a scratch.
Eventually he reached the dugout just as a drink was being served to
the Junior Sub. Lieutenant F. was asked if he would like a drink, and
his reply was, "Certainly I will have one, thank you." As the drink was
handed over to him we noticed that he was perspiring very freely. And
as he reached over to take it, we all saw that his hand was shaking
like a man with the palsy. One of the officers asked him if he was
scared. He replied, "You are damned right I'm scared. See what Fritz
has done to my breeches!"
During the attack on Vimy Ridge, Number One Platoon, under the command
of Lieutenant Clements, who afterwards received the Military Cross for
his good work in connection with this attack, was detailed to capture
the Volker Tunnel. His men were supplied with electric flashlights,
and, in order to distinguish them from the other platoons, they all
wore white armlets above their elbows. Their special work was solely to
capture the tunnel and to cut all the electric wires, as we suspected
that mines had been laid under the various German trenches.
The moment our barrage had lifted from the German front line trench,
Lieutenant C. and his men fought their way through this tunnel. In
the tunnel he surprised a German officer who was fast asleep. How
this officer could have slept through the noise of our barrage was a
mystery. We presumed that he must have been intoxicated, or that he had
become so accustomed to our usual strafing of their trenches that he
did not pay any attention.
Lieutenant C. aroused him out of his sleep by shining his flashlight
upon his face. The German officer appeared very much astonished, and
informed us, through one of our men who could speak German, that they
had been expecting us to attack on the first of April, and as we had
not attacked on that date, they thought that we would not attack until
the 15th. He also stated that two regiments of German infantry had been
sent up to their support lines to be ready for what they thought our
attack on the 15th of April.
At the point of a pistol that was held by a very determined officer,
it did not require much persuasion to make the Hun officer disclose
where the wires were attached to the mines that would have blown us to
"Kingdom Come," although the Germans had evidently thought Vimy Ridge
was impregnable. Nevertheless, they had prepared for all eventualities.
I visited this tunnel on April 10th, and as I descended, helped
by the constant aid of my flashlight, I came to the nice little,
well-furnished room in which the German officer had been surprised. It
was forty feet underground.
I followed a passageway about ten feet broad and seven feet high. Every
few yards I had to pass over the bodies of dead Germans. There had
been fierce hand-to-hand fighting. Our boys had certainly used their
bayonets with good effect. Some prisoners had been taken and, strange
to say, one of the prisoners had lived in Montreal and had been engaged
as a waiter at one of the large hotels. He could speak excellent
English, and he informed one of the boys that there were several of
his fellow soldiers who had been engaged as waiters in New York and
Chicago. But these had all been killed in the tunnel.
As I advanced along the tunnel it became wider and on both sides were
two tiers of bunks. Many of these contained the bodies of dead Germans
which were placed there in order to make the passageway less congested.
Later on these bodies were taken out and reverently interred.
I slept for about two hours that night in one of the lower bunks. In
the upper tier above me was the body of a dead German.
The Germans had built this tunnel with two objects in mind: first,
to enable them to bring forward reinforcements from the_ Zwischen
Stellung_ trench to their front line, which was a distance of 560
yards, without exposing them to our observation and artillery fire and,
secondly, that they could also withdraw their men from the front and
support trenches without suffering any casualties.
The Germans had made every arrangement with a view to the comfort of
both their officers and men. Electric light had been generated from
Vimy Village. The tunnel could shelter comfortably one battalion.
Ventilation shafts ran up from it to the surface, and there were
chambers or rooms off the main passageway to serve the purposes of
a garrison that might be isolated. Commander's post, telephones,
temporary hospital, baths with hot and cold water installation, and
depots for ammunition and food were here.
It can readily be seen that the Germans expected to remain on the spot,
but our New World troops upset their calculations.
One day on the Western front there was a duel in the air. It looked as
if the old days were to come back again, when the armies would cease
fighting and watch their respective champions in single combat. This
fight resulted in the death of Immelman, at that time Germany's most
distinguished aviator.
It was in truth a duel, no chance meeting of men determined to slay
one another, but a battle following a regular challenge and fought by
prearrangement and without interference from either side. This air
battle was witnessed with the deepest interest by the men of both
armies who were crouched in the trenches and separated only by a few
yards at No Man's Land. The fire of the anti-aircraft gun on both sides
was stilled. Captain Ball, the youthful English pilot who was recently
killed after a series of winning battles in the air, was the victor.
The story of the duel, which was one of the most sensational events of
the war, was told in a letter written to me by a friend of mine who was
one of the eye witnesses of the fight.
One morning Captain Ball, who was behind our sector, heard that
Immelman was opposite. "This is the chance I have been waiting for. I
am going to get him," declared Ball. His friends tried to dissuade him
by saying the story of Immelman's presence probably was untrue. Ball
would not listen. Getting into his machine, he flew over the German
lines and dropped a note, which read:
"Captain Immelman:
"I challenge you to a man-to-man fight to take place this afternoon
at two o'clock. I will meet you over the German lines. Have your
anti-aircraft guns withhold their fire while we decide which is the
better man. The British guns will be silent.
"(Signed) Ball."
About an hour afterwards a German airman swung out across our lines and
dropped Immelman's answer:
"Captain Ball:
"Your challenge is accepted. The German guns will not interfere. I
will meet you promptly at two.
"(Signed) Immelman."
Just a few minutes before two, the guns on both sides ceased firing. It
was as though the commanding officers had ordered a truce. Long rows
of heads popped up and all eyes watched Captain Ball from behind the
British lines go off into the air. A minute or two later Immelman's
machine was also seen in the air.
The machines ascended in a wide circle. There were wild cheers on
both sides, each for the respective champion. Captain Ball, thousands
of feet above us and only a speck in the sky, was doing the craziest
things imaginable. Our soldiers' cheers turned to cries of dismay. Ball
was below Immelman and was apparently making no effort to get above
him and thus gaining the advantage of position. On the contrary he was
carelessly swinging around this way and that, attempting, it seemed, to
postpone the inevitable.
We saw the German's machine dip over preparatory to starting a nose
dive. "O Lord, he's gone now," cried a young soldier at my side, for
he knew Immelman's gun would start its raking fire once it was being
driven straight down.
Then, in less time than it takes to tell, the tables were turned.
Before Immelman's plane could get into firing position, Captain Ball
drove his machine into a loop. Getting above his adversary and cutting
loose with his gun, he smashed Immelman by a hail of bullets as he
swept by. Immelman's aeroplane burst into flames and dropped. Ball,
from above, followed for a few hundred feet and then straightened out
and raced for home. He settled down, rose again, and hurried back to
release a huge wreath of flowers almost directly over the spot where
Immelman's charred body was being lifted from a tangled mass of metal.
Four days later Captain Ball was killed. He attacked, single-handed,
four Germans. One he had shot down. As he pursued the other three two
machines dropped from behind the clouds and closed in on him. He was
pocketed and killed, but not until he had shot down two more of the
enemy.
You can never judge his ability as a fighter from a man's appearance.
Private Davis was a runner, about 26 years of age, attached to my
company headquarters. He was a small and unassuming man, very neat in
his appearance and always spick and span, even in the trenches. His
companions often wondered how he could manage to keep himself so clean
and tidy.
One night Davis, being near company headquarters, overheard the
officers discussing an intended raid on a German machine-gun
emplacement, which we thought was a short distance in front of the
German trenches. This machine gun had caused quite a number of
casualties in our company, so this raid was made with the object of
finding and destroying it. Davis begged very hard to be allowed to go
with a patrol party that was being sent out, so the company commander
gave his assent.
That night Davis was out in No Man's Land on patrol duty, the patrol
consisting of four men under one N.C.O. Later on the patrol came
back without having seen anything of the enemy in No Man's Land, but
Private Davis was reported missing by the sergeant. About an hour
after the return of the patrol, one of the officers who was on duty
at the time was called by a sentry who had heard the whistle that had
been pre-arranged for the patrol party's signal as they approached our
barbed-wire entanglements.
There in front of our wire were several Germans, with their hands up.
All the boys on the fire step had their rifles to their shoulders in an
instant. Then we heard a shout, "I have got six Heinies, don't shoot."
It was Davis. I got out of the trench and showed the way through the
barbed wire to the Huns, who looked scared to death. There was Davis
behind the Boches, with a Mills bomb and pistol in his hands.
He told me that he had got lost. He had then prowled around and
surprised this machine-gun squad, who were outside a concrete machine
gun emplacement.
I asked Davis how he had managed to capture these men and he told me
it was quite easy. "I just put the fear of God into them with my Mills
bomb and made them walk in front of me." As he could speak a little
German, he told them that at the least noise they made he would blow
them to pieces. After that it was a cinch, as he expressed himself.
Davis was very much surprised when he was recommended and received
the Distinguished Conduct Medal for this good piece of work. His one
regret seemed to be that he was unable to place the machine gun _hors
de combat_. He declared that the reason for this was that his prisoners
were not gentlemen, and he, therefore, could not trust them to stand
quietly by while he was destroying one of the Kaiser's machine guns.
Many people have had things to say of the French Canadians in Canada
and their reasons for not having enlisted more freely. I wish to
set down what I observed of the 22nd French Canadian Battalion,
which is the only complete French Canadian battalion at the front,
although there are quite a number of French Canadians mixed among the
English-speaking battalions.
The 22nd French Canadian Battalion was absolutely fearless, coming
second to none for their bravery. A few days after the Canadians had
captured Vimy Ridge, the 22nd Battalion was detailed to take up its
position in the front line of our brigade frontage, my battalion being
in support at that time. Both of these trenches had been captured from
the Germans. The 22nd battalion sector of the line at that particular
time was named the "Observation Trench." It ran in a serpentine manner
down the eastern slope of the Ridge. The Ridge at this point dropped
abruptly, and the trench was dug through chalk. The Germans must have
worked very hard to dig it. Along the sides were quite a number of
very deep dugouts. At about 7:30 P.M., just as it was commencing to
get dark, we saw on the crest of the Ridge the 22nd ahead of us. The
Huns were at that time about one mile away. Their artillery was still
further back, yet with their powerful glasses they could see very well,
and they must have seen the 22nd, because there immediately began a
rain of shrapnel over them as they were going down the slope of the
Ridge in single file. It took some time for the last of the boys to get
under cover.
We could not help but admire them as they moved along, as cool as if
on parade. None of them showed the least sign of fear or nervousness,
although shells were dropping and bursting all around them. It was with
a sigh of relief that we saw the last man go over the crest and get
under cover of the trench. We were always sure of the 22nd's doing the
right thing at the right time.
Another time they were occupying a sector of the front line not far
from Loos. An English battalion, which had previously occupied this
sector of the line, informed us that there was a rumour to the effect
that a part of the trench we were occupying had been mined by the
Germans. This information was far from pleasant, as one does not relish
the idea of being blown skywards. The relieving troops are given all
useful information concerning enemy movements, etc., hence this mine
story.
As we were "standing to" about an hour before dawn we heard a hissing
sound, then a roar, and the earth seemed to tremble. All at once the
ground opened and earth and debris of all descriptions went flying
through the air. The Huns had exploded the mine, but, fortunately
for us, they had miscalculated the distance. About one minute after,
a barrage was laid by the Germans on our support lines. They had
evidently thought that they had blown up our front line sector and us
along with it.
The mine had actually exploded a few yards in front of the 22nd French
Canadian Battalion. The Huns followed on some distance back of their
barrage and advanced in columns of fours to the sector occupied by the
French Canadians. The leading sections of the Germans were protected
by armour plate over their bodies. As they advanced they were firing
their rifles from their hips. The French Canadians stood fast, and at
once began a rapid machine-gun and rifle fire, which caused the Huns to
retire at a terrible cost. Our barrage also had begun to play, both on
their artillery and the advancing troops.
Great praise is due the 22nd Battalion for the manner in which they
withstood the Huns. I wish we had in France more French Canadian troops
from the Province of Quebec of the same calibre. Their officers are
absolutely fearless, and they have one of the highest records of
efficiency, which can be judged by the distinction conferred on them.
They were commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Tremblay, D.S.O. and Legion
of Honour. Some of the senior officers were Major Debuc, Major Chasse,
Major John Roy. All of the foregoing have been decorated by the King
with the D.S.O. and Military Cross, and by the French Army with the
Legion of Honour. Major John Roy, during the attack on Lens, August
15th, 1917, was in charge of a company when all his junior officers
were either killed or wounded. He, with a mere handful of men, held
a sector of the front line under a heavy bombardment from the Boche,
which continued for two days and nights. I was in the same attack, and
in one day alone we repulsed four counter-attacks.
On my return to Canada I was surprised at the people that do not seem
to realise how much the 22nd Battalion is thought of by the fighting
men in France. Any child who has a father, any mother who has a son, or
any person who has a relative in the 22nd French Canadian Battalion
should be very proud of it.
The French Canadian is patriotic without doubt. But they are so
very clannish on account of their language, many being unable to
speak English, that, when volunteers were called for by Canada,
their proportion of enlistment was small in comparison with the
English-speaking Canadian. A few leaders who could talk well started a
propaganda against enlistment, probably for their own personal reasons.
These leaders quickly had a great number of followers. But, my personal
opinion is, that the war situation had not been presented to the
majority of the French Canadians ere these propagandists got in their
villainous work.
One night, as we were "standing to" in the front line, the usual
whistle of the shells as they passed above us could be plainly heard.
I noticed a soldier advancing along my left flank. As he reached the
place where I was standing on the fire step I recognised him as Private
Wagner.
He was about to pass me. I stopped and asked him where he was going.
His reply was, "Sir, I am going over to the right to get my entrenching
tool. I left it in a funk hole this afternoon and came away and forgot
it." He then saluted and smiled as he was doing so. Somehow or other I
did not like the way he smiled. But I had no reason to doubt his words.
Although it was strictly against orders to allow anyone to leave the
fire step at "stand to," Wagner was personally known to me, so I let
him go.
My mind went back to the time I first met him, five years ago. We were
both living at the same hotel in Montreal. Wagner was supposed to be
an Englishman, and at that time he was a draughtsman in the employ
of a large bridge company. It was said that he was one of the finest
draughtsmen in Canada on bridge construction work, and he appeared
to have a thorough knowledge of the whole of the country, as he had
worked for various companies throughout Canada. Wagner mixed with the
best of society in Montreal, but it was remarked that before the war
his best friends appeared to be connected with the Hamburg-American
Steamship Line. When war was declared he was the first man to disclaim
any friendship existing between himself and anyone with a German name.
No one appeared to hate the Germans more than he did, neither was there
anyone more keen to enlist. But the medical examinations at the early
stages of the war were so strict that he was rejected by the medical
boards.
Wagner and I were often seated together at the same table, and, as he
had travelled extensively, he was a very interesting and entertaining
man, so we became very friendly.
Later on, when I received my commission he seemed to profess more
friendship for me than ever before. His knowledge of military
engineering and signalling interested me very much. He was also a
clever linguist, speaking several languages fluently.
Being on leave one week-end from camp, I went into the dining-room of
my hotel in Montreal to take lunch; and who should I see but Wagner.
He was seated at the table in the same old place. I noticed he was in
uniform. As I entered the dining-room he rose from his seat. I told him
to sit down. He then told me he had just been passed by the medical
board, as the soldiers' standard had been lowered. He appeared to be
very pleased at having got through, and he said he hoped that it would
not be long until he would be with the boys "Over There."
Just then a lady came into the dining-room. She was a German whom we
both knew, married to a Canadian. As she passed us to get to her dining
table, he said to me, "How I hate those Germans! The authorities ought
to intern them all. If I had my way I would shoot them all, as I would
any enemy of ours." He put great emphasis on the word "ours" and his
eyes glared malevolently. Although I attached no importance to this
little incident at that time, it now came back to my memory. Wagner
quickly recovered from his ugly mood and asked me when I thought some
of the troops would be sailing. I told him I did not know as we were
not given any information with regard to the sailing of our troops.
After this I lost track of Wagner until I arrived at my reserve
battalion in England.
One day I happened to be going to the battalion orderly room, and who
should be on sentry duty, much to my surprise, but Wagner. He saluted
me. I returned his salute. After saying a few formal words, I passed
into the orderly room. The adjutant said to me, during the course of
our conversation, that he had a man whom he would like to promote for
the time he would be at the training depot. I asked him the man's name
and he told me it was Wagner. I then informed the adjutant that I had
known Wagner for some years in Montreal and that in my opinion he would
be a well-qualified man to make a non-commissioned officer.
That night about nine o'clock there was a knock at my hut door. I
opened it and saw a sergeant with a man. The sergeant said, "Sir,
Private Wagner would like to speak to you." I told the sergeant that
he could go and that I would speak to Private Wagner alone. Wagner
informed me that he was, to use the slang expression, "fed up" with
camp life and that he wanted to get over to France with the first
draft. He begged of me to see that his name was placed on the list.
This I did for him and later on he left the reserve battalion two
months before I reached France.
When I reached my fighting unit in France I was very much surprised
to see Wagner working in the battalion orderly room. He seemed
surprised and also pleased to meet me, and asked me if I would have him
transferred to my platoon, which I did.
He told me if at any time I had to draw a cross section of a map,
which is often done by us when we intend attacking a German position,
he would be pleased to do it for me. Although I knew he could make an
excellent sketch, I thought it would not be a wise thing to allow any
of the men under me to know too much of our plans in case they should
be taken prisoners by the Germans.
As I pondered over the past history of what I knew of this man, it all
came vividly back to my mind. His smile as he saluted and passed along
to the right to get his entrenching tool and the manner that he had
said "enemy of ours" in the dining-room in Montreal. Suddenly on our
right flank the Germans began to send up some red rockets and then a
few golden sprays. Word was passed along to send up our S.O.S. I asked
who had sent the message. The man to my right said he did not know. I
then jumped out of the trench and walked along the parados. I found
that five men from my right had received this message and the sixth man
was Wagner, and the man next to him did not know anything about it. We
act quickly at the front; we take no chances. I interrogated Wagner,
but he disclaimed any knowledge of the message.
I was not satisfied with this answer. Although I had known him so
long, the various little incidents which had transpired during our
association now firmly convinced me that he was a German. I immediately
placed him under arrest with a strong guard over him, although I may
say that I felt like killing him on the spot.
If we had sent up our S.O.S. signal our artillery would have placed
an intense bombardment on the German trenches along our sector of
the line. While our artillery were busy shelling in this locality,
the Germans would have attacked another point, where they would have
encountered less opposition of artillery and in all probability broken
through our line. It was a well-arranged scheme; but it failed, thank
God.
As soon as we stood down I had Wagner brought to my company commander.
I made out a written report, detailing the whole circumstances of the
affair. Wagner was searched and in the heel of a boot that he was
wearing was found some very thin tissue paper, neatly folded. It did
not appear to have any writing on it, but as we laid the paper on a
small box in the company headquarters dugout, a candle was burning
brightly, so we held it close to the light. We could make out a drawing
of our trench. Apparently invisible ink had been used. As we continued
to hold the paper before the candle, German writing gradually came to
view.
Judging from the expression on Wagner's face you would not have thought
that his life was at stake. He appeared to be quite resigned to the
fate that awaited him.
It is customary for the army to have carrier pigeons. The pigeons are
kept at certain points some distance in the back area of the trenches,
where they are kept in large cotes until required by any particular
unit. It sometimes happens that a company commander may require two
pigeons to take with him into the trenches in order to send messages
back to the rear. The message is fastened to the leg of the pigeon,
and when the pigeon arrives at the cotes the message is taken off its
leg and handed over to the signallers, who transmit the message to the
proper authorities by wire or motor despatch riders.
[Illustration: Releasing a Pigeon with a Message for Help]
One man was allotted to carry the pigeons in a small wooden box. This
man was always Wagner. He professed to love birds and had taken a
course to train pigeons. Whenever our battalion was out at rest, if in
a town, Wagner was sure to be away after drill hours. Seldom was he
seen at the Y.M.C.A., nor did he ever appear to write any letters. We
discovered that he had confederates in some of these little villages
where he procured German pigeons, and, no doubt, by some means he
exchanged these pigeons and sent important messages occasionally to the
enemy.
No doubt Wagner had warned the Huns when they were massing in the
sunken road that we were aware of it and were prepared to surprise
them.
Wagner was sent out of the line under escort. As he passed me he gave a
very malevolent stare. He was duly shot at sunrise. Another crafty Hun
paid the penalty of his treachery.