When the Canadian troops arrived at the Western Front Sir John French
wrote of them, “The soldierly bearing and the steadiness with which
the men stay in the ranks on a bleak, cold, and snowy day are most
remarkable.” Other leaders spoke of their high spirits and love of
fun; others again of their cleverness in finding out new ways of doing
things, and, later, of tricking the enemy.
The men from overseas soon became comrades with the Britons from the
Motherland. “The British Tommy,” wrote a young Canadian, “is splendid.
He is alive to his fingertips. He is full of devices to deceive the
enemy; he knows all kinds of tricks; he hasn’t a mean streak in him,
and he’s a first-class fighting man. He uses his brains. It has been a
revelation to me to find him as he really is.”
Briton and Canadian, therefore, were prepared to think the best of each
other; and the feeling of brotherliness with which they began their
stern work carried them shoulder to shoulder through many a terrible
day and yet more terrible night.
The Canadians, after their custom, treated their officers in a
free-and-easy manner which seemed at first somewhat strange to the
ordinary British soldier. But when the time for duty came there was
no difference between Canadian and British discipline. But there was
always a standing dispute among Canadian officers and men in the heat
of action as to who should go first into the stiffest part of the fight.
At one battle a Canadian captain was leading his men in single file
through a dangerous place, when a non-commissioned officer stepped
forward and said, “I beg your pardon, sir, but bomb-throwers always go
first.” Then he ran on ahead before the officer could speak to order
him to go back.
There are numberless stories of Canadian pluck and resource. In one
engagement, Lieutenant Campbell, leading a small number of men, made
his way into the front trench of the Germans, and passed along for
some distance until he was held up by a barricade. They were under
very heavy fire, and in a short time only two of the party were left,
namely, the lieutenant and Private Vincent.
The two men, however, kept on fighting. They had a machine-gun, but
it was useless because they had no tripod to stand it on. So Vincent
stooped down and the officer strapped the gun upon his back. It was
worked with its human tripod for some time, but at last a German
bombing party entered the trench and Campbell was wounded to death.
Vincent, however, succeeded in dragging the gun away to a place of
safety.
Our men were, naturally enough, very anxious to prevent their guns from
falling into the enemy’s hands and being used against themselves. A
British gun, lost near Ypres, was afterwards recovered in a surprising
manner.
One bright morning a German aeroplane was seen circling gracefully over
the headquarters of a British division. Soon the shrapnel was bursting
round it; but the airman flew too high to be hit, and he and his pilot
seemed to the thousands of watchers to be thoroughly enjoying the risks
of their morning flight.
Then a British machine appeared at some distance away, and it was
not observed by the German airmen until it was close upon them. The
enemy turned to escape but the sound of an aerial machine-gun soon
told the watchers that the fight had begun. The German made a spirited
reply, until his gun went wrong and his pilot was wounded. Then his
machine fell rapidly to the ground and came to earth not far from the
Montreal Battalion, while the British machine rose again to avoid the
attentions of the German gunners.
The German airman was able to get clear of the wreckage of his machine
and creeping to the Canadian trench gave himself up, saying that
his pilot was dead. Our men were anxious to capture the machine but
the German gunners were equally anxious to pound it to pieces. The
Canadians, however, were able to gather the fragments of the wreck, and
among them found the machine-gun which had been lost near Ypres some
six months before.[3]
[3] The story is fully told, with many others of great
interest, in _Canada in Flanders_, Part II., by Lord
Beaverbrook. (Hodder and Stoughton.)
It was a French-Canadian officer, Major Roy, who performed one of the
bravest deeds of the early part of the war in Flanders. A huge shell
from a trench-mortar fell into a trench full of men. The gallant major
picked it up to hurl it over the parapet, but his foot slipped and the
shell exploded as he held it! There was little doubt that with men like
these the Canadian spirit would carry the troops of the Dominion very
far, as indeed it did, in the months of terror and glory which were to
follow.
A young Canadian, Private Smith, was merrily singing a song during a
bombing attack by some of his comrades when a mine exploded near him
and he was almost completely buried in the falling earth. When he had
dug himself out he found that he had lost his rifle and looked about to
find some useful work.
He was soon made aware that the supply of bombs was running short, and
the idea struck him that he might crawl round among the dead or wounded
bomb-throwers and collect the bombs which they had not used.
Without wasting a moment, he moved carefully round on hands and knees
and made his collection, hanging the bombs at various points on his own
person. The missiles were duly delivered by the smiling “carrier,” to
the great delight of his comrades who cheered him on in his very useful
but risky work. He made five collections in all and safely delivered
his precious burden to the men who were attacking the German trenches.
His clothes and cap were riddled with bullets, but he was not hit,
because, as he explained, he kept always “on the move.”
At last he could find no more bombs, and his company was forced to fall
back before the terrible German fire. One of the bombing party was seen
wounded, standing on the parapet of the German front-line trench. He
had thrown every bomb he carried, and then weeping with rage at being
unable to do more, he flung earth and stones at the enemy until the end
came.