At times during a battle a body of comrades seem to act together as
one man. Their spirit and discipline are so good and they each forget
themselves so completely in the effort of the fight that the foe
cannot stand before them. When a brave effort of this special kind is
made, Crosses are not granted, but the name of the battle is worked on
the flag or colours of the regiment.
Never was such a distinction better earned than by the Canadians at
Ypres.
In the spring of 1915, the Germans were making desperate efforts to
get to Calais, as a step on the road to London. They were so eager to
get there that they began to use poison gas against our men and their
friends, the French and Belgians.
The Canadians were among the first to feel the effects of that
horrible, choking, blinding gas. The use of it gave the Germans an
advantage at first; and it seemed likely, for a time, that they would
be able to make a way through the British lines. It was the Canadians
who stepped into the gap and helped to save Calais. The people of
Britain and the Empire can never forget that splendid service.
At another time there was a desperate fight in a wood near Ypres from
which the Canadian Scottish drove the Germans one moonlight night. The
story, as told by an officer, forms another fine page in the history of
the British Army. Here it is:--
“It was just a few minutes before midnight when we got to a hollow
which was about 300 yards from the wood. The moon came out now and
then, but we could have done without her, for farm buildings were
blazing all round. The fire from the Germans in the wood had now
ceased, and we had a spell of silence that could be felt.
“Whispered orders were given to fix bayonets and were obeyed in a
flash. Our coats, packs, and everything were dropped and we advanced
in light order. When we reached a low ridge in full view of the wood,
a storm of fire was loosed upon us from the undergrowth skirting the
wood. At once the word was given to charge, and on we rushed, cheering,
yelling, and shouting, straight for the foe.
“At first they fired too high, and our losses were small. Then some of
our men began to drop, and the whole front line seemed to melt away,
only to be instantly closed up again. Cheering and yelling, we jumped
over the bodies of the wounded and tore on. Of the Germans with the
machine-guns not one escaped, but those inside the wood stood up to us
in fine style.
“The struggle became a dreadful hand-to-hand conflict; we fought in
clumps and batches, and the living struggled over the bodies of the
dead and dying. At the height of the conflict, while we were steadily
driving the Germans before us, the moon burst out. The clashing
bayonets flashed like quicksilver, and faces were lit up as if by
limelight.
“Sweeping on, we came upon lines of trenches, which had been hastily
made and could not be well defended. All who held out were bayoneted;
those who gave in were sent to the rear.”
The officer spoke modestly as all British heroes do; but no words could
convey a full idea of the desperate character of the fighting on that
moonlight night. The Canadians knew perfectly well what depended upon
them in that frantic struggle round about the poor battered town of
Ypres; and they nobly performed the duty laid upon them.
Remember that these men were not fighting, directly at least, for
the safety of their own homes, which were thousands of miles away
in peaceful Canada; nor for their wives and children, mothers, or
sweethearts, who had sent them out so bravely from their homes in the
western land. They might have stayed at home, and no one would have had
any right to call them slackers or shirkers.
But they did not stay at home. The “Old Grey Mother” of them all was in
danger--the Britain to whom it was their pride to belong. So they came
racing across the seas as quick as steam could bring them; and after
some months of training in the Old Country, they went out to fight and
win and die.