GERMAN GAS AND TURCOS
"Be careful there," said Capt. McGregor. "The French were short of
sandbags here and they have built several dead Germans into the
parapets." I was examining our new trenches in the twilight and my
nose had been assailed by that peculiar odor which emanates from the
dead.
"Get plenty of quicklime down here to-morrow," I suggested. "Build
some traverses where they are laid."
"You're pretty heavy, don't step too hard. Dead Germans there."
Lieutenant Langmuir was then piloting me along his section.
"Out in front, there on the left, there is a dead French officer
caught in the German wire. He has been hanging there since last
November. The Germans have left him there. There is nothing now but a
blue coat and red trousers."
This certainly was the worst corner in the way of trenches I had seen
since we came to Flanders. Behind the ditch rows of crosses, black and
white, stood up a few feet away, ghastly reminders in the half
darkness of the toll that had been paid to take and hold the trenches.
The defenders here were buried where thy fell.
Earlier in the day I went down to the front line and had leisure to
examine the commandant's headquarters, which had been held by our
gallant French Allies since November, 1914. It was a dugout in the
rear of a ruined windmill, and contained several pigmy rooms. There
was a room for the signallers, another for the adjutant and one for
the commandant. The French officers had left behind them excellent
maps of the German position showing their trenches, also panoramic
sketches showing the roads, villages and houses opposite, with
compass points. These sketches were the work of their gunners. No
wonder the 75's were so deadly. Their efficacy is in their recoil and
the "graze" fuze they use. Their high explosive shells strike the
ground, bound in the air and burst about thirty feet forward from
where they strike. In this way they form a curtain of fire filled with
splinters of steel, over the German trenches.
I turned a copy of the panoramic sketch over to Major MacDougall of
the Toronto Battery, when he went into the loft of a ruined house some
distance away to check up his guns as they fired on the Poelcapelle
road in front of us.
I slipped quietly into a fire trench on the forward slope of the ridge
to observe the guns at work also. I had sent word down to Major
Osborne in the forward trenches to clear the men out of the redoubts
on either side of the road so that if a shell fell short it would not
hurt anyone. The Canadian "observing officers" were always very
careful in "registering," as they called it. They began by sending
their shots well over the German parapets, and gradually coming
closer, instead of firing a shell short, another long and dividing.
While we were observing the Germans replied to our guns, and very
nearly got Major MacDougall. Poor chap, he was subsequently
assassinated by a German spy or sniper behind in billets. His clothing
was stolen and worn by the assassin who was caught and suffered the
death penalty.
Major Marshall came along to see what was going on and stood for a
minute at the head of my trench. The Germans spotted his Glengarry and
began shelling my trench with "Jack Johnsons," and Major Marshall had
to clear out. I stayed until they got tired of shelling and then had a
good look at their lines through my field glasses. The ground sloped
gently down from where I stood in the sap-head for about three hundred
yards to our forward line of redoubts. Away to the northwest the
double line of parapets disappeared in the trees and hedges around
Langemarck. Just short of the village the Third Brigade (ours) took up
the defence. The trenches here for about five hundred yards were held
by the Royal Highlanders of Montreal. Major Osborne held several half
moons on the far side of the Poelcapelle Road. Then our battalion
lines continued southerly, running for about eight hundred yards till
there came a gap which occurred between us and the Winnipeg Rifles.
Immediately behind our line ran Strombeek River, (we would call it a
creek). It marked the bottom of the slope and crossed the line of
trenches held by the "Little Black Devils," as the men of the Winnipeg
Battalion were called.
[Illustration: Map of the BATTLE OF ST JULIAN April 22nd May
4th 1915. Position April 23rd
THE BREAK IN THE SALIENT]
The line of the Second Canadian Brigade trenches then ascended the
Gravenstafel ridge. On the east side of the ridge the land sloped up
towards Poelcapelle and Roulers. This slope was not very steep, but
sufficiently so to dominate the little valley in which were our
forward line of trenches. All along the enemy's lines were various
clumps of trees, each one of which no doubt concealed several
batteries of artillery, referred to in the conversation of my friend
of the flying corps. High above the trees and the distant red tiled
roofs of Roulers I could see the spire of the Gothic Church of St.
Michael. Beneath these walls on June 13th, 1794, a fierce struggle
took place between the Austrians under Clerfait and the French troops
under Marshal Macdonald, in which the French Republican troops of the
latter were victorious. Beyond Roulers lay Ghent, Antwerp and
Brussels. The high ground in front was strongly held by the enemy, for
this was the key to the advance on Brussels and Waterloo.
My examination of our position ended. I began to retrace my steps to
St. Julien, but the Germans spotted me in some way and followed me
across the fields with salvos of high explosive shells. I could hear
the shells coming as the field was dotted here and there with "crump"
holes or craters where shells had fallen. I promptly ducked into a
hole till the "whistling Willies" fell and sent showers of mud and
flying steel over my head. I observed that sometimes these "crump"
holes were very small, and found that after all in this war a small
man had some advantage over me. I made my way back to the village,
carefully reconnoitering all the trenches on the way, for I had a
premonition that we might want to use them some time soon.
After dusk I returned again to commandant headquarters and went into
the front line of trenches along with the ration party. There was lots
of work to be done to strengthen our position if we were to hold our
trenches as we had been ordered to do.
We started down the old disused mill road in the twilight of a lovely
spring evening. Behind us the moon hung a silver bow almost on the
horizon. It was going to be one of those nights, clear, but with
objects not distinguishable at any great distance. Major Osborne met
me at his dugout, which was on the east bank of the creek, and
together we went on to the left of our line where his men were busy
digging fire trenches in the rear of the half moons. Here I saw for
the first time a line of French trenches. The French lines were held
entirely different to ours. We usually built solid parapets of clay
and sandbags high enough and strong to protect a man standing up, but
the French usually do not allow this to be done. They had adopted
their favorite method of entrenchment here, namely, a series of low
parapets built in the form of half moons. My battalion held seventeen
of these half moons and our brigade, I understood from our Brigade
Major Lieut. Col. Hughes, held far more of the line than it was
intended we should hold. About three hundred yards of our right line,
some seven half moons, were to be turned over to the Second Brigade on
the next relief.
I went over his section carefully with Major Osborne. All the young
officers were hard at work bracing up the parapets, joining them
together and rapidly erecting formidable defences. I consulted with
them all as I passed along the line from left to right, Macdonald,
Fessenden, Daniels, Taylor, Bath and Smith, and all were of one
opinion, viz., that the half moons should be turned into small
redoubts, and a line of parapets built as quickly as possible
connecting them.
The French parapets were not built to be held, as we were ordered to
hold our line. They build low parapets so the men will have to crouch
behind them, and they will want to go forward and take the other
fellow's line in order to get better quarters in the German trenches.
This corner had been the scene of some hot fighting at some period
during the war, for in my tour of the trenches that night I
encountered a dozen little graveyards a few yards in rear of the
parapets.
Back and forward I went, and the entire line was canvassed and
discussed. Lieutenant Fessenden, one of the most brilliant graduates
of the Royal Military College, had a particularly hard spot to deal
with, and was handling it in a manner worthy of any of the great
Belgian engineers. Fessenden had a brother in the British army. No
lieutenant in the whole allied army was a better student of the art of
war, or a more fearless man, than this rosy-cheeked boy of twenty-two.
"Sandbags, and more sandbags!" was the reply of Lieutenant Macdonald,
when I questioned him as to the requirements of his section. He was on
the extreme left, and if anything happened on that side he was sure to
be enfiladed. He was quite cool about it, however, a worthy namesake
of the great Marshal who had fought so valiantly beneath the walls of
Roulers a few miles away.
Lieutenant Smith, always cool and dour, a thorough Scot, was a man to
be trusted in a tight place. Captain McKessock had a long talk with me
about the machine gun positions. He had reconnoitred his ground very
carefully, and had found several places back of the lines where he
could mount a gun and rake the German lines if they advanced to the
attack. Captain McKessock was one of the men who had sacrificed a
great deal to do his share in this war. He was a captain in the 95th
Battalion when the war broke out, and he brought a large quota of men
to Valcartier. He joined the 48th and insisted upon having command of
the machine gun section. It was pointed out to him that it was a
subaltern's position, but he wished to have it, and his wishes were
gratified. He left the position of crown attorney of a large district,
with an income of ten thousand dollars a year, to go to the front,
leaving behind him a wife and family. Such devotion to duty is
exemplary. He understood his guns thoroughly, and is one of the few
men I have met who had studied the tactical employment of the gun as
well as its technical operation.
When I came to Captain Daniel's section he was waiting for me. Daniels
was a very handsome man, an engineer of note, a graduate of the
Technical Department of Mines in Queen's University. He, too, gave up
a splendid position, as manager of a large mine in Cobalt, to go to
the war. He was a very competent engineer and knew his work
thoroughly. As we passed along his parapets we could hear the Germans
talking, and a party of them out in front of their parapets were
driving in stakes for their barbed wire. There was not much firing
going on, and as we had several parties out in front engaged on the
same task, we decided to leave our Saxon friends alone for the time
being until ours got back under cover. We could see their ghost-like
forms close by from our listening post. If we opened fire on them they
would likely get some of our patrols.
Lieutenants Taylor and Langmuir were both busy at their sections.
Langmuir was one of the "finds" of the 48th. He joined us at Long
Branch by coaxing me very hard to give him a commission. I hesitated
on account of his youth, but finally consented because I recognized a
gleam in his hazel eyes that told me that if the occasion arose he
would be a man of high courage. He was tall and slim with a bright
color on his cheeks, and several of my older officers said it was a
shame to take him along, he was so young that the hardships would kill
him. I took him nevertheless, and though he knew very little about
drill or military matters, he studied night and day so hard that it
soon became known he was one of the best instructors in the battalion.
He developed into a strong well built man, over six feet tall with
broad shoulders and a commanding presence. He had a splendid grip on
his men, who worshipped him and would follow him any place. Captain
McGregor never tired of singing his praises. He was admired and loved
by everyone, an ideal officer and a gentleman worthy to lead a
Highland platoon or regiment anywhere. Taylor, who was with McGregor,
looked up his captain for me when I came to his section. Lieutenant
Taylor was a student at Oxford University when the war broke out. He
threw up lectures and joined our battalion as a supernumerary. Our
officers had almost all known him before. Standing over six feet tall,
with the shoulders and chest of a young giant, Taylor was a man to be
noted anywhere. He was famed both at home, in Canada, and abroad as a
student and an athlete. He pulled a good oar, played a splendid game
of football, hockey and lacrosse. He was an all round star, "a born
leader of men," as Lieutenant Alex. Sinclair, himself a well known
athlete, said to me when he was pleading Taylor's cause for a
commission. Both Taylor and Langmuir were very fearless men. They were
constantly out in front of their lines at night reconnoitreing the
German lines and boldly trying to get a look into the German trenches.
I had to check them several times and warn them against taking any
unnecessary risks.
Daniels had a very hard section of trenches at Neuve Chapelle. He had
gone out on the "devil strip" at night, reconnoitred his whole front
and mapped it for an advance.
I arranged with Lieutenants Mavor and Fessenden to have a sketch of
the line made showing the work proposed to be done. On our right there
was a wide space between ourselves and the Winnipeg Battalion. This
open space was protected by wire entanglements, but McGregor and Mavor
both contended that it was a dangerous spot. I told them that it was
the intention to give several of the redoubts on our right to a
Company of the 8th Battalion, and that the order was expected to come
through the following evening. Lieutenant Mavor accompanied me out to
commandant headquarters. On the way out we met a working party of the
Canadian engineers going in with Major Wright at their head. I could
not help remarking about the commanding figure of Major Wright, who
looked like a giant in the uncertain light, a paladin out of the pages
of ancient or mediaeval history. I made my way back to St. Julien that
night, not by any means satisfied with our military position. The
Germans could certainly shell us jolly well if they liked, for so far
only five of our own batteries had been put in position behind our
lines. But the French had some ten batteries of 75's on our left rear
and that was assuring. The way in which our fire trenches were sighted
at the bottom of the Gravenstafel slope did not commend itself to me.
It is very difficult to get a good position for trenches. If you go on
top of a ridge, the enemy's guns will pound you to death, and if you
lift your head they will get you with rifle fire on the sky line. If
you dig in on the forward slope they will look into your trenches with
their guns. If you go to the bottom of the slope, the enemy on the
high ground on the other side can command your trenches. In rear of
the crest, the old Wellington position is the best. Our supporting
line held this position, but I felt that on the forward slope towards
the enemy a few rifle pits would give us a chance to get at them
behind their lines. This was to be attended to as soon as the work on
the forward trenches was completed. This Ypres salient had only one
thing of military value to commend it. It afforded a position in which
troops could be massed to break through and advance on Ghent and
Antwerp. I suspected that when the proper time came that was what
would happen here. "Sentiment should have no place in business" is a
hackneyed expression. War is a business, therefore sentiment should
have no place in war. In war there is usually too much sentiment. We
cling to impossible positions because we have won them and held them.
We attack villages and redoubts that we should go around, and out of
which the enemy would run the minute they found us on their line of
retreat. We fail to support because we think it is a corps duty to
hold their own line, which they may be able to do, but out of which if
they had been supported they might launch a counter attack at the worn
and shaken enemy which might bring us a notable victory. The
principles of war which guided Wellington and his staff apply to this
war. I often wished I had brought my "Napier's History" of
Wellington's campaigns with me.
When we got back to St. Julien the staff told me that the Germans had
registered pretty nearly all over the place during the evening, and
that it was a case of shells from north, south, east and west. During
the night I called up the various sections of our line and they all
reported that the Germans were very quiet.
While I was doing the rounds of the forward trenches I could not help
noting the roar of waggons and limbers along the whole German line in
front of us. The night was very calm, and whilst it was quite usual to
hear a lot of waggons about rationing time, still on this occasion the
whole German line seemed to be in motion. I had never heard anything
like it before. Something extraordinary was certainly happening.
Either the Germans were changing the army in front of us, or else I
thought they had got tired of holding the line in our immediate front,
and anticipating a strong offensive of which rumors were abroad, they
were preparing to retreat to the Rhine. I reported the occurrence to
headquarters that night.
In the morning of the 22nd of April Lieutenant Drummond of the Royal
Highlanders came to see me and told me he had attended the funeral of
Captain Warren.
The Germans were shelling our billets and dugouts in St. Julien pretty
heavily, and I was asked to look up some places outside of the town
into which I could put some of the men and build new dugouts. I
selected several places along the banks of Hennebeke brook where the
ground was soft, and the shells would bury themselves and not explode,
and started the men digging the dugouts. The particular spot which the
Germans had chosen to shell that day was the "Cross Roads" and church
of St. Julien. All of the church was gone but a piece of the spire.
The graveyard in the rear of the church was torn all to pieces with
"coal-boxes," and the coffins and remains of dead civilians and
soldiers had been unearthed. These graves had already been carefully
repaired by our men under Pioneer Sergeant Lewis under heavy shell
fire. Some distance east of the church a line of fire trenches had
been cut. These were to be occupied in case of an attack. The shelling
continued all day. In the afternoon about four o'clock my adjutant
and I visited the supporting trenches and dugouts at the forward
lines. We had a chat with Major Marshall and some of the officers over
the telephone, and repeated the orders given to me, that if we were
attacked we were to hold the trenches till support came, for if we
gave any portion of them up we would have to take them back ourselves
with the bayonet.
Lieutenant Dansereau was returning with me about five o'clock to St.
Julien to see what progress had been made on our new dugouts, when a
very heavy cannonade and rifle fire broke out along the northeastern
face of the salient along the section held by the French troops. The
rifle fire seemed to grow heavier every minute and a strange yellow
haze grew over the distant line of the French trenches. I remarked
about the haze to the adjutant, and we both concluded that either the
French or Germans were using some new form of gunpowder that caused
the greenish haze.
For weeks we had become accustomed to heavy bursts of infantry fire,
but these bursts had usually died away. This seemed to continue longer
than usual. As we neared St. Julien I met Captain Alexander, and
ordered him to tell his men to get their rifles and ammunition and
"stand to." The Germans immediately began shelling our dugouts near
the church with "coal-boxes," and in a minute they had put a shell
into one of them and four men were killed. As I passed up the main
street I warned the men and told them to be in readiness to take their
places in the trenches in front of and at the northeast corner of the
village.
I went to the battalion headquarters and ordered out the orderlies,
and in a few minutes the French troops began streaming back without
arms or accoutrements. To my horror I found that they were Turcos and
not the regular French troops which we had thought were holding that
part of the line. Lieutenant Dansereau spoke French to them, but many
pretended they did not understand.
Almost immediately the bombardment of St. Julien became fiercer and
the number of Turcos coming back greater. We hurriedly gathered as
many as were armed of them together and sent them up to assist our
companies in the St. Julien trenches. By this time the rifle fire was
very intense and the gas so thick that it choked us, so I ordered
every man to go to the trenches. I sent messengers to General Turner,
V.C., to inform him of conditions and where we were.