ARRAS
That afternoon, accompanied by Father Sheehan, I went up to Arras to
visit my brigade, for most of the soldiers were billeted in the city.
Arras was being heavily shelled by the enemy. Long before we reached
the suburbs we could see the sudden spurts of black smoke rising in
many places from large buildings; and as we drew nearer we could hear
the dull, quick-echoing crash as shell after shell shrieked its way
into the great chalk buildings and exploded. Our own field artillery
was busy on the outskirts of the town, returning the German fire. A
fine mist of rain fell.
It is extremely hard to describe the strange, unfamiliar depression
that came over one entering the city; for everything was silent,
save when a shell shrieked horribly and then burst, while almost
simultaneously came the sound of falling stone and mortar and the
tinkle of broken glass. Nobody walked in the silent streets; and in the
great empty dilapidated buildings there was no movement, save now and
then the flutter of torn window-blind or soiled curtain in some empty
window-frame. In one part of the city blood was mingled with the rain
water that ran slowly along the gutter.
We came to the giant statue of Neptune, which faced us and divided
our street. We followed the street which ran to our left, passed the
Monument and presently were at the hospital of St. John, which was in
charge of some French nuns--I think they were of the Augustinian Order.
They had given over one large wing of their hospital to the Canadians,
who were using it as an advance dressing station.
There was a really beautiful chapel attached to this hospital, and
there was an English military chaplain quartered near it, who said
Mass there every morning. I arranged with him to have the use of the
chapel on Easter Sunday to say Mass for my lads, but when on Saturday
I went to Brigade Headquarters, which was in Arras, to announce the
hours of service I was told that there would be no church parades, as
the shelling was so continuous that no congregating of the men above
ground would be permitted. The battalions of the Third Brigade were
scattered in different billets throughout the city. I was very sorry
I could not have the men for Easter Sunday, but since it would have
endangered their lives, I recognized the wisdom of the order. Before
I left the city that evening there was not the slightest doubt in my
mind but that the brigade officers had acted with great prudence, for I
was the only one on the long road leading out of Arras, save occupants
of an ambulance which came screeching up the road, passing me with
terrific speed. When its sound had died away I became more than ever
aware of the shells that dropped so perilously near that I could hear
the splinters falling on the cobbles just behind me.