HANGING ON
"Stretcher for Captain Cory."
A cry went along the line of the trenches, and two stretcher bearers
jumped up on the parapet and ran towards the Poelcapelle Road, along
which Captain Cory's platoon held the trench.
A groan went up from the whole line. We all thought Cory had been hit.
He was a universal favorite.
Only a few minutes before as dawn broke my officers in the front
trenches came to me to report and have a cheery word. Captain "Bob"
Cory, Captain Alexander, Lieutenant Barwick and Lieutenant Jones all
reported and stopped for a moment's chat.
While we were at Cassel, Captain Cory had obtained leave of the
general officer commanding, the blessing of his own commanding officer
and the good wishes of his brother officers, and had gone to London
for two short weeks and there married Miss Telfer of Collingwood,
Canada. She reached England with her sister, Mrs. (Major) Porter, too
late to become a bride before the regiment started for France. Captain
Cory would not transfer and stay in England, so the first opportunity
that came he was granted leave. Marriage had quieted him down a lot
and I kept cautioning him, for the sake of the wife he had left
behind, to be careful.
Barwick and Jones wanted leave to take their platoons down to the
forward trenches to assist Major Osborne. Cory said that with the
Turcos, and the other two platoons of the company, he could hold the
trenches at the northeast angle of the village, so I consented to
their leaving. It was a very brave offer, and it showed excellent
spirit on their part to wish to go and participate in the defence of
the peak of the salient which was considered the most dangerous part
of the whole line.
As Captain Cory was on his way back to his position one of his men was
hit with a machine gun bullet and they called for a stretcher. I
started to go down the line to where he was, but was told he was all
right, that it was one of his men that had been wounded.
My signallers reported to me that all night long the fighting had
continued in front of St. Julien, the Germans trying to force an
entrance at the northwesterly side between the village and the wood.
The village had been shelled continually. During the night several
limbers of artillery came clattering down the road, dodging shell
holes, dead horses and men, followed by the wakeful German guns, as
the gunners knew that these limbers held ammunition for the Canadian
artillery in the first line. The Germans seemed to have a weird sense
of what was going on on our roads. The 10th Battery under Major King
was at the cross roads at Kersselaere. During the night Major King
gallantly ran one gun by hand well forward on the left of the Royal
Highlanders to try and stop the advance of the victorious Huns. It was
Major King's ammunition that came rattling down the ruined streets of
St. Julien during the night, and when the "coal boxes" fell at the
concrete bridge over the Hannebeek creek where it crossed the road not
far from the ruined St. Julien church, the horses and several of the
riders fell to rise no more. Nothing daunted, the non-commissioned
officer in charge returned for help to man-handle his precious load
down to the guns at the trenches. Captain D.S. Gardner of the 7th took
a squad of about thirty men and they manned the limbers, and amidst a
perfect hail of shells and bullets drew the ammunition down to Major
King, who lost no time in firing it point blank into the Germans that
were advancing on Kersselaere cross roads. They were mowed down in
heaps by the shrapnel. The German advance was stopped at this point
and the gun was later taken out safely.
Throughout the battle no Canadian guns were lost.
As usual with the morning sun, there came from the east two large
German aeroplanes with the ominous black crosses on their stiff
outspread wings. They flew low and seemed particularly interested in
our breakfast bill of fare. The warning whistle was blown as they
approached and everyone lay down in the trenches as still as death.
The Germans seemed to satisfy themselves that there was nothing in our
trenches, for after they returned to their own lines they stopped
shelling the church and graveyard close by which up till then had been
their favorite target. When they stopped shelling the church and
graveyard the scene was dreadful. The walls of the church and rafters
were torn to pieces. But it was the cemetery that presented the most
grewsome sight. Graves, ancient and modern, were torn open and coffins
and corpses were strewn in all directions. Our dead had been
disinterred a second time. I set a party to work under Sergt. Lewis to
repair this damage.
We learned in the morning that some British troops had been sent to
the assistance of our severely pressed left flank. This detachment was
under the command of Colonel Geddes and consisted of the remnants of
seven mixed battalions from the 27th and 28th divisions that had held
the southern face of the salient. They were detachments of the 3rd
Middlesex, the 2nd East Kents, the 1st South Lancasters, the 2nd East
Yorks, the 9th Royal Scots, the 5th R. Lancasters, the 2nd D. of C.
Light Infantry. The 5th Lancasters and Royal Scots were Territorials,
the rest of the detachment were regulars. This brigade went to the
assistance of the French remnant left at Pilken, and they helped to
reconstitute the line after a gallant charge in which the French and
Canadians joined, closing up a gap at this point.
Along towards noon, Colonel Loomis, who had his headquarters west of
the village of St. Julien, sent for Captain Alexander. I told
Alexander to take a couple of men with him in case anything happened
to him as the shelling in the village was very heavy. He did so, and
was gone about an hour. He returned alone looking very grave, and I
asked him what was the matter. He told me that on the way out his men
had fallen at his side, killed by a shell.
About eleven o'clock we noticed very heavy shelling and gas fumes
rising in the direction of our front trenches east of Kersselaere.
There was a pretty stiff breeze blowing, and shortly after we saw the
gas our guns began firing and there was a terrific burst of rifle
fire. We recognized the "chop" of the Ross rifle and knew that our men
were in action at the extreme angle of the salient. Major Marshall
telephoned me from his headquarters that the Germans were gassing and
that they were following up the gas with an attack.
I was very anxious but soon learned that the German attack had been
beaten off, for their artillery as usual began working off their spite
on the farm houses in our rear. I also learned that although the
shelling was very heavy we had escaped so far with very few
casualties. About noon I began to realize that I had not eaten
anything since breakfast the previous morning, when my meal had been
disturbed by the German shells and the tragic death of the sentry at
our headquarters. Some one handed me a tin of "bully beef," and I
ripped the top off with the trusty hunting knife which had been my
faithful companion on every expedition I had made into the unknown
wilds of Canada for the past twenty years, and I finished that tin of
beef with apologies to "Fray Bentos."
In the afternoon I started down for the front line of trenches to see
how they were getting along there. Capt. Dansereau accompanied me. At
first he insisted that I should not go down into the "devil's corner,"
as they called it, and said he would go down and look it over and come
back and report to me. However, when he saw I was determined to go he
got his revolver and insisted on coming along. I bade good-bye to
Capt. Alexander and the brave lads that were holding the St. Julien
village trenches. Many of them would "return to Lochaber no more."
We made our way down to commandant headquarters. On our way we passed
in the rear of the 7th Battalion and noted that the British Columbians
knew how to use their shovels and grubbers. They were busy in spite of
sniping and shell fire fortifying the line of the Poelcapelle Road for
some distance east of the St. Julien and in rear of Kersselaere
village. Colonel Hart McHarg was there directing the men. When we got
to headquarters we found Major Marshall quite cheerful. Lieutenant
Shoenberger wore his customary grim smile as he told me how our men
had driven back the attacking Germans a few hours before. The Germans
had "gassed" them twice, but the wind was too high and it blew the
deadly fumes over the parapets. The men waited till the Germans
emerged from their trenches three or four deep to charge. Then our
whistles blew, and hundreds of them were cut down and piled on top of
each other before they broke and ran back to their trenches. One
machine gun got about 200 of them.
They told me that Major Kirkcaldy of the 8th Winnipeg Rifles had come
over from their headquarters on the Gravenstafel Ridge to reconnoitre.
Orders had come through that after dark the 13th Battalion, whose left
flank was much exposed to enfilade fire from some machine guns, were
to retire, pivoting on our left flank at the Poelcapelle Road and
linking up with the 7th and Buffs. They were to dig in, trenching the
line in rear of Kersselaere. Part of the 7th Battalion, which was
virtually in support of them, were to hook up with our supporting
trenches, thus forming two lines. The orders were that the 48th
Highlanders were to hold their original trenches and protect, and the
7th were to conform. We were all warned to hold our trenches at all
costs.
The order to conform and to consolidate, which reached the 7th, sent
Lieutenant-Colonel McHarg out to reconnoitre his front about five
o'clock in the afternoon to find out the most favorable place to build
the parapets. Lieutenant Matheson of the engineers had arrived and
Lt.-Colonel McHarg, Lieutenant Matheson and Major Odlum proceeded
down the slope from their lines towards some ruined houses in their
front, which they entered, and from the back windows of which they
immediately saw the enemy lining the hedges not one hundred yards
away. When they started back uphill the Germans opened fire on them
and Colonel McHarg was instantly shot through the stomach. Major Odlum
made his way out and sent Captain Gibson, the battalion surgeon, down
to attend to the wounds of their commanding officer. Gibson stalked
fearlessly down to where his colonel lay, picked him up, got him under
better cover and dressed his wounds, and that night after dark they
got him out. There was much gloom and sorrow among the British
Columbians that night for they all loved their colonel and they knew
that there was very little hope for him. He died the following day at
Poperinghe. Thus died one of the bravest of the Canadians, a splendid
soldier, the champion sharpshooter of America, for that matter of the
world. He had always displayed great coolness and daring, and British
Columbia will always cherish and revere his name.
[Illustration: A NARROW ESCAPE
A shell entered the tree above these officers' heads, but
failed to explode.]
The command devolved for the time being upon a worthy successor, Major
Odlum.
At dusk I checked up the casualties over the telephone and I learned
that we had only a total of forty-seven for the strenuous twenty-four
hours, and that most of these were in the trenches of St. Julien.
Lieutenant Vernon Jones and Lieutenant Barwick came along with their
men, and they helped to take double rations and ammunition to the left
flank company commanded by Major Osborne. They were ordered to close
the rear of the redoubts with sandbags so as to save their men from
enfilade fire which they were sure to get in the morning, as soon as
the enemy had discovered that the 13th had retired to take up a new
line. During the attack at noon the 13th had their line pierced at one
point and a machine gun belonging to the Germans was brought through
and put into position in a farm house surrounded by a moat in the rear
of their lines. From this farmhouse the Germans were giving them all
kinds of trouble, and it was to relieve this pressure chiefly that
they were ordered to retire. The suggestion to bomb the Germans out
was not practicable. Our guns were too few to cope with the powerful
German artillery, although well served.
Company Sergeant-Major De Harte came up from the trenches along with
the ration party at eight o'clock and told me the story of the gassing
and bombing in the morning. When the Germans sent their gas over the
wind was too high and it blew over the top of the trenches. The 48th
waited until it passed over, then as soon as the gas and shelling
ceased they manned the parapets knowing that an attack was coming. The
whistle blew and the Ross rifle rang out a deadly hail that tumbled
the Germans in heaps and sent them scurrying like rabbits for shelter.
The Huns gave us no more trouble during the afternoon and the men were
confident of their ability to cope with any force that might come
against them. Word came through to be sure and hold our trenches at
all costs as help was coming. This message was sent direct to the
trench line. Major Osborne asked me what would happen if the
ammunition ran out. I told him the standing orders of the trenches
were that we must use our side arms. Our standing orders read as
follows:
"All ranks must realize the exact nature of the duty they are called
upon to perform for the moment and must not exceed this duty. This
duty is to hold the trenches at present handed over to their care at
all costs against all comers, and on no account to give up the line.
If attacked the men must continue firing and remain at their posts. If
the enemy endeavors to rush the parapets the men will use their
bayonets. Any of the enemy who make their way into the trenches must
be bayonetted. The regiment is provided with ample supports in the
rear. Any of the enemy who gets beyond our trenches will be taken care
of by the supports. Each man must fire low and steadily."
As the night closed down the heavens were lit with the German flares
and the lurid flashes from their guns. I took a long look over the
battle line and I confess I thought our chances of ever getting out
were very slim. The German flares crossed each other in the heavens
behind us. In our left rear, and all around to the right rear, I could
see the angry red flashes of the thousands of guns they were directing
against our devoted defenders. I began counting the batteries, but
after I had reached a hundred I concluded they had enough. Almost
every calibre of gun was being used against us, from the great
seventeen inch Austrian siege mortars they were firing at Ypres and
Poperinghe behind us, to the nine, seven, six, five, four and
three-inch high explosive shells that were filling the air with their
fiendish notes.
Bayonets, brawn and bull-dog courage were all we had to match against
all the resources of chemistry and mechanics of our enemies. They
might poison us, destroy us or take a bit of the line here and there,
but take the city of Ypres--not that summer, not so long as a Canadian
arm was left to defend the stricken salient.
At twelve o'clock that night I checked up my sketch of our position
after having a bowl of soup in Major Marshall's dugout. The second
brigade line was untouched. So was the 48th. The 13th were withdrawn
from their trenches and were digging in along the slope on our left
flank. One company of the Buffs, one of the 5th and two companies of
the 14th were mixed up in the line here, along with the three
companies of the 7th that were consolidating their trenches along the
Poelcapelle Road towards St. Julien where they linked up with the
48th, 13th and 14th Companies of the garrison. From the left flank of
St. Julien, the 3rd Toronto Regiment, two companies, joined up with
the 10th and 16th at St. Julien Wood. Then came Geddes' British
Brigade, and on their left the 13th British Brigade under
Brigadier-General R. Wanless O'Gowan. This brigade arrived in the
afternoon from Hill 60. It was made up of what was left of the tired
1st West Kents, 2nd King's Own Borderers, 2nd York Light Infantry, 2nd
West Riding, 9th London, all from the 5th Division that had lost half
their officers at the crater blown up by Captain Perry. Next came the
1st and 4th Canadians, and then the French troops held as far as the
canal.
There had been little or no change during the day. The honor of
holding the dangerous angle of the great salient at Ypres had fallen
to the lot of the Canadians. The Red Watch held the danger point, the
toe. It was our duty to hang on and die to the last man until help
came and the French line was reconstituted as it was when the French
Turcos broke before the deadly gas. Like typical Highlanders we were
the "Forlorn Hopes" of the Empire.
It was away after two o'clock in the morning when the shelling died
down a bit in our front. I threw myself down in the dugout and fell
asleep. I slept with revolver ready and boots on and got in a few
winks. I was awakened at about a quarter to four by loud talking and
the roar of guns. I jumped up and turned out to get a glimpse of what
was going on in the trenches in front. I met Capt. Dansereau, who told
me the Germans were again trying to gas the 48th. True enough, in the
grey dawn a heavy yellow pall hung over our trenches and there was a
sweet pungent smell of chlorine in the air. The two platoons that were
in dugouts were at once sent to their stations in the supporting
trenches. Major Marshall and Capt. Dansereau went into the trenches
with them, while Lieutenant Shoenberger and I remained at the dugout
trench at the telephone. There was a slight lull in the cannonading
for a few minutes, then the German guns began to speak in louder and
more insistent tones. I looked around the salient, shaped like a man's
right foot, of which we were the toe, and hundreds of batteries seemed
to be turned on our trenches, both front and supporting. Again and
again salvos of "coal boxes" fell in succession along the parapet.
Talk about Neuve Chapelle, we were getting our own back with
interest. All the German batteries were concentrated on our parapets
and the trenches held by our regiment. Pandemonium reigned along the
front line of trenches. The Germans followed up their gasses again
with intense rifle and machine gun fire. Up and down along the
parapets of the redoubts the shells kept dropping, throwing up huge
pyramids of black smoke fifty feet in the air. These blasts resembled
rows of black trees or fountains. How anything could live in that
seething vortex, created by the bursting high explosive shells, is a
mystery. Many a brave Highlander would see the lone shielings and the
misty mountains of Canada no more. All this time the Germans were
industriously shelling the dugouts and supporting trenches where our
supports were located and along the Gravenstafel Ridge. Huge shells
fell like hail. Those that failed to burst in the air exploded the
minute they struck the hard untilled clay of the fallow fields and
fragments flew in every direction. One fell on the roadway about
twenty feet away from me. Two men who were standing under cover of the
broken wall of the windmill crumpled up like green leaves in a forest
fire. They were done for. They were giving us a double "curtain of
fire" as well as the death dealing gasses.
A piece of the same shell struck Lieutenant Shoenberger, my signalling
officer, who stood close beside me, and he fell. He said never a word,
but in a trice had his knife out, cut off his puttee and looked at his
ankle. The bone was broken. Before I could give him a hand he had his
first aid bandage out and tied up the wound himself. I offered to send
a man with him to the dressing station a quarter of a mile back, but
he said he would crawl down on his hands and knees all right and that
every man would be needed in the trenches. He was quite cool and
collected and did not show any sign of fear. I felt very sorry for
him.
Nearly a century ago Admiral Lord Cochrane, a man of wonderful
scientific knowledge, advanced a project to the British Government for
a terrible and unseen agent which could be used against an enemy, and
which was so destructive and powerful it would render their armies
helpless. That secret was asphyxiating gas. His plan was on the field
of battle when the wind was favorable to build large fires with tar
and damp straw behind which an attack could be prepared. Then sulphur
was to be thrown on these burning piles so as to produce gas, which
blowing over the enemy would render them helpless. This would not
produce a poisonous gas. It would only be an asphyxiating gas that
would knock a man out for a while. Still the British had refused to
use this secret.
In 1913 German scientists at the German Headquarters Staff had
experimented with sulphur, chlorine and bromine fumes. They reported
on sulphur gas: "This gas thus produced acts as an irritant on the
lungs and eyes, and thence it is adapted to render the enemy incapable
of resistance, but is not poisonous, and in that way its use in war is
not contrary to international right." They had in view Article 23 of
the rules of conducting hostilities promulgated by the second Hague
Conference to which they had subscribed, which specifically prohibits
"the use of poisons and poisonous arms" and "the use of arms,
projectiles and material destined to produce useless suffering." The
Germans could have used sulphur gas just as well as chlorine gas, but
sulphur was not poisonous, and would not kill; chlorine and bromine
would.
We had just learned that they were using red phosphorus in their
shells, and that any particle of that chemical that got into a wound
would set up gangrene from which hundreds of soldiers died in terrible
agony. We had surmised that they were in the habit of dipping their
rifle bullets in red phosphorus solution because where they struck the
men's clothing they invariably started even the wool clothing burning.
That was the case at St. Julien Wood where, according to the stories
brought back by the men, they had foully crucified a sergeant
belonging to our brigade on a barn door. He belonged to our bombing
section.
The sun was shining a red rim on the horizon in the east. The sickly
green clouds of the gas appeared denser in some places than others.
The wind was just right for the infernal curtain that gradually drew
over the trenches. The thickest pall was blown against the right of
our line between McGregor's company and the left of the 8th Battalion,
where there was an open space protected only by a small trench and
barbed wire. Of those on our right hardly a man was left to tell the
tale.
All those who stuck to the trench and did not use wet bandoliers or
handkerchiefs died. Some tried to get out, only to fall stricken with
the deadly vapor before they had gone many yards. Among these was
Lieut. Taylor, an Oxford scholar, one of the best athletes in the
First Division. He won out of the trench only to die on the
Gravenstafel Ridge. Company Sergeant-Major Hermitage and his brother
Sergeant Hermitage were stricken down also but managed to crawl out.
The latter lost the use of his vocal chords for some time. They were
burned with the fatal gas. Lieutenant Mavor, who was in this section,
fell, but they managed to get him out before he succumbed. Some of the
men fell back to the left to a communicating trench which they held
till the German infantry attack came when they rallied to the parapets
and drove the Germans out with their bayonets.
A very dense cloud of gas was directed against the centre of our line
and Captain McLaren was one of the first to fall. Some of his men
succeeded in getting him out. For days his life was despaired of, and
his lungs were scarred for ever. Lieutenant Maxwell Scott, of
Abbotsford, kindred of the great Sir Walter, author of Waverley, one
of the finest officers in our battalion, fell from the effects of the
fumes. They succeeded in getting him out also. His life was dispaired
of.
The only thing the soldiers had to stave off the poisonous gas were
their wet handkerchiefs or wet bandoliers where they happened to have
them. Pads and masks were not then known or issued.
My lungs were sore for months from the gas we got at the village of
St. Julien and here, which was a second dose.
When the German attack came many of the men had fallen. Others were
too weak to fight, but there were still some left and they counter
attacked and drove the Germans out of the trenches with the bayonet.
The fighting was very strenuous while it lasted. It was a case of butt
or point whichever came handiest. I noticed a number of men straggling
back through on our right and went over to see what was the trouble,
thinking that they were retiring without orders. I found, however,
they were all badly gassed and wounded so they could be of no further
help. Those who were able to shoot were halted and put into the
supporting trenches, over which the Germans were putting a curtain of
fire filled with asphyxiating gasses which smelled like ten thousand
"camphor balls turned loose," as one man said, as he turned sick with
the gas and smell.
When the Germans were driven off they again turned their guns and
rifles on the brave few who were hanging on. Captain McGregor went
down with a wound in the head, but he still kept on using his rifle
till a second bullet laid him low. Lieutenant Langmuir, revolver in
hand, fell after he had killed eight of the foe. He had more than
evened the score at the head of his platoon. Smith and Macdonald
fought like lions. Again and again they charged the Germans with the
bayonet. Lieutenant Bath, a quiet and mild mannered youth, greatly
distinguished himself. Captain McKessock was operating his machine
guns like mad. One of the guns he turned over to "Rolly" Carmichael,
the tallest man in the regiment, a daredevil who did not know the
meaning of fear. With a wound in his shoulder McKessock took one gun
out of the forward line, mounted it in rear of a ruin about two
hundred feet behind its original position and began ripping holes
through the German ranks that were appalling. He was finally overcome
from loss of blood. Major Osborne, badly gassed, fought on with a
wound in the shoulder till a bullet caught him in the face. He was put
into a communication trench from which he directed his men.
The line held against the first attack. Although the Germans broke
through in several places they were driven back and paid a fearful
price for their daring.
The gasses rolled to the supporting trenches and made life unbearable.
The pungent smell was awful. Shells and rifle fire were forgotten in
the scorching livid breath of the chlorine. Scores of men died where
they stood. Some tried to crawl away. The bearers brought some out
from the front line, but when I examined their pulses I found them
dead. Poor fellows, their features were distorted and their faces
livid. Blood-tainted froth clung to their lips. Their skins were
mottled blue and white. They were a heartbreaking sight to behold.
Chlorine gas killed! No wonder the poor ignorant Turcos fled. But the
indomitable "Red Watch" held on.
The sun rose from a lurid red sea in the east. It was now daylight and
five German aeroplanes of the Albatross pattern rose in the German
lines and started boldly across our territory. Our machine guns spoke
against the flying observer, and I knew that Captain McKessock's guns
had still a few kicks left. The stream of wounded and gassed men
continued. Many of them could hardly make their way along on their
hands and knees. The gas affected some of them so they did not
recognize anyone. They afterwards fancied they had been in the front
line for days.
The poisonous gasses affected the brain as well as the lungs. Then we
realized the full enormity of the gas attack of the enemy. It was not
a gas that would knock a man out that they were giving us, but a
poisonous gas that would kill.
It was half past six o'clock before the German infantry again tried to
force our redoubts.
The gas, shell fire, enfilading fire and machine gun fire they fancied
had again done their work, and they ventured out of their trenches and
charged against the centre of our line. They broke through between
some redoubts in Captain McLaren's line, but the men rallied and drove
them out again with the bayonet. The "chop chop" of the Ross rifle
told us that there was still plenty of fight in the front line.
The Royal Highlanders on our left and the "Buffs" were attacked at the
same time. The German machine guns in the farmhouse were playing havoc
with the men in the shallow "dig ins" which they had made the previous
night, but the Highlanders held on like grim death. Shells filled with
asphyxiating gas were fired at us, and whole squads of men in the
supporting trenches were wiped out at each salvo, which consisted
usually of four huge shells.
A message from Major Osborne stated that there was a possibility of a
shortage of ammunition and he asked for orders and supports. I was
sorry to have to tell him that the 48th were to "hold on to the last,
and if ammunition gave out to use the bayonet, to hold the redoubts to
the end. If the Germans broke through to drive them out with the
bayonet."
Orders were issued that the wounded were to get first aid, but were
not to be carried out. We needed every rifle and man, and could no
longer spare stretcher bearers.
Help was expected, but it was just as dangerous to retire as to hold
the forts. We were holding the enemy back and any minute the British
might come.
I do not know whether my message got through to him, but I do know
that he and his fellow officers carried out the orders.
The Automatic Colt 45, which all the Canadian officers carried, is a
good weapon at close quarters. Its bullet would stop an ox, but there
is a limit to the rounds that can be fired. In a hard close scuffle,
there is nothing like a stout rifle and a long sharp bayonet. I picked
one up that had been dropped by a wounded man. It was an excellent
weapon, better at close quarters than my claymore. The knowledge
learned in the old Toronto Fencing Club of how to lunge and parry was
to stand me in good stead during that awful morning. The _arme
blanche_ is not to be despised, and when you are at it hand to hand
you are relieved from shell fire.
I afterwards gave the rifle to Sergeant Coe, the bravest of many
brave men, who carried it when he fell at the head of his platoon in
the immortal charge on the orchard at Festubert.
About nine o 'clock the German aeroplanes again came along and took
another good look at our position. A white flare was dropped over the
bit of trench held by Major Marshall, a platoon of forty odd men with
a machine gun and crew, that had again and again raked the German
trenches. About twenty howitzers immediately opened fire on that
unfortunate trench, and how any of them escaped was a mystery, for
they seemed to get the range to a dot. Company Sergeant-Major Vernon,
one of my best non-commissioned officers, had his head completely
blown off with a piece of shell. Sergeant Angus Ferguson, veteran of
India, Egypt and Africa, was shot in the arm and leg. He was left for
dead. Later the diabolical Huns captured him, and on his raising an
objection to having his leg amputated gave him his choice of that or
being shot. They amputated his leg above the knee without even
administering an anaesthetic, but he lived to return to Toronto and
tell the tale.
A number of the machine gunners were killed and wounded. Lieutenant
Dansereau, my adjutant, was struck in the head with a piece of shell
and everyone thought he was finished. Word was brought to me to that
effect, and I felt as if I had lost my own son. Sergeant Flood of the
machine gun section stood by his piece as long as possible, but
finally a shell smashed the mount and this piece of trench became
untenable. The pitiful remnant of the platoon, now consisting of seven
men with Major Marshall, had to find a place to the right of the
supporting trenches where they kept on fighting. The Germans had
broken through on our left and were trying to force our supporting
trenches.
Major Marshall and the few that were left with him spotted a platoon
of the enemy advancing in their front about one hundred feet away, led
by a man who they thought carried a white flag. He wore a blue coat
and looked like a French soldier. They thought at first that it was a
bunch of Turcos or of Germans wanting to surrender. They opened fire,
and the man with the white disk turned and started running back and
they saw that the other side of the disk bore the ominous black cross.
He was a marker for their artillery. He did not run far. Marshall had
a rifle and bayonet and knew how to use them. On our left Lieutenant
Colonel Burland of Montreal took charge of the 14th and fought rifle
in hand. He greatly distinguished himself.
All this time a miserable Hun was playing on our trenches from the
left rear with a machine gun.
Between our forward position and St. Julien, a short distance
northwest of the Poelcapelle Road, a number of farm buildings had been
seized by the Germans when the Turcos fled the first night, and they
had placed their Maxims in the upper windows and were trying their
level best all the time to get us in the back.