ranks being now so thin, it was inadvisable for us to remain out in
that exposed position.
Fifteen hundred men had already fallen, and what could the remaining
500 of us do against the German hordes?
Sick as we were with the gas fumes and the terrific strain we had
undergone, we retreated back through the wood to an old line of
trenches and there waited for reinforcements.
Our object had been achieved, the Germans were demoralized, and puzzled
as to how many men we had.
Their proposed attack was cancelled for a few hours to enable them to
re-form and organize, and by the next hour or two our reinforcements
would have arrived.
Our first brigade appeared on the scene and the line was strengthened,
and then the Buffs, the famous English regiment, came up at the double
after having marched miles from another part of the line.
The bluff that we pulled off was therefore entirely successful, and the
Germans thought that we had about 20,000 men attacking them.
It never struck their imaginative, cold-blooded and calculating minds
that 2,000 men would have the audacity to attack whole German divisions
without artillery support.
They certainly have had many lessons showing the difference between
spirit and material.
The charge we made stands out as one of the finest achievements of the
war, and only equaled, in the estimation of British experts, by the
wonderful charge of the Worcestershire Regiment, who with only 500 men
charged a division of Prussian Guards at Gheluvelt in October, 1917;
also the famous Black Watch and the Scots Greys in their spectacular
stirrup at St. Quentin.
It will always be a source of pleasure to me to know that I was in the
front line of the first attack made by soldiers from the continent of
America and was in the Battle of Ypres, which made the name of Canada
ring through the world.
Remaining on Ypres front for several days, the remnants of the
battalion were taken to the rear to await for reinforcements. These,
in due course, arrived, and we were then sent to Festubert, and on May
17th our remade infantry brigades advanced toward the firing line once
more.
On the 21st of May we went "Over the Top" at Festubert, with the object
of capturing a strong German redoubt called "Bechill."
My platoon was practically annihilated by machine guns and none of us
succeeded in passing the entanglements; over fifty of the men of the
platoon, which numbered sixty, being killed or wounded in less than two
minutes.
The rest of us, seeing that things were hopeless, retired to an
old communication trench and made our way to bomb our way past the
barricade which led to the redoubt.
As we threw bombs over the barricade, the Germans retaliated, and I
discovered that it is impossible to indulge in the practice of throwing
grenades for any length of time without someone getting hurt. At this
time a German bomb fell in the bottom of our trench and burst there,
wounding three of us, myself getting a piece of shell in the foot.
I was in the hospital only three weeks, and then returned to the
battalion, who were on the La Bassee front.
On the third day of my second time in the trenches at Givenchy, the
Germans opened up a bombardment with high explosives, and while walking
up a communication trench an 8-inch German shrapnel burst in the air,
and one piece of shell hit my ammunition pouches, while another passed
through my arm and then hit my side.
While in the hospital, gangrene possomy set in and I was sent to
Glasgow, Scotland, where I remained for many weeks.
My arm being partly paralyzed, I was returned to Canada and discharged
in May, 1916.
Two weeks after I joined the Canadian Active Militia (pay corps), and
was promoted to sergeant, but never recovered the full use of my arm,
and consequently was unable to return to France.
THREE YEARS AND TWO MONTHS IN FRANCE
BY LANCE CORPORAL EDMUND HALL, 2ND SCOTTISH RIFLES, B.E.F.
AFTER being in the army eleven years and with one year to go to finish
my time as a regular soldier of the British Army, for which period I
had signed on, I was beginning to think that I would be unfortunate
enough to finish my soldiering without seeing active service, but after
all I was not to be disappointed and I saw more active service than
ever I bargained for.
At the time Great Britain declared war on Germany I was stationed with
the British garrison at Malta, an island fortress in the Mediterranean
Sea, where in peace time a garrison is kept consisting of five
regiments of infantry and several batteries of artillery. On the 4th of
August we received orders to proceed from barracks to take up positions
in the land entrenchments and redoubts, as an attack was expected from
part of the German fleet, the _Goeben_ and _Breslau_ at the time being
somewhere in the vicinity.
[Illustration: LANCE CORP. EDMOND HALL]
The attack which we expected did not materialize, as the German ships
ran for cover to the Golden Horn and Constantinople, and were afforded
shelter by the Turks. In this respect they were as fortunate as their
sister ships who had the protection of the Kiel Canal. We were now
waiting for the territorial battalions which were to relieve us so
that we could take our place on the western front and fight with the
regulars who were stemming the German tide in Flanders. On the 17th
of September our relief arrived, and the ships which brought them to
Malta took us to England, and we were camped for a time at Winchester
while our division was being mobilized. This division, the 8th, was
made up of regulars from foreign service and included regiments from
Gibraltar, Egypt, India, and our own from Malta. The average service
of the men of the Scottish Rifles was seven years and we were in the
best of training, having just finished maneuvers. It was this training,
excellent shooting and individual initiative which earned for us the
praise of the Germans, who said that every British regular was a
trained non-commissioned officer. We landed in France on the 5th of
November, 1914, and entrained for the railhead nearest the Neuve Eglise
and Massines front. This front at the time was being taken over from
the French and we relieved one of their regiments in the front line
of trenches. At this time of the campaign, trench warfare was just
beginning, as the fighting previously at Mons, Marne and the Aisne
was a retreat or an advance and was mostly field warfare. The Germans
having failed in their terrific drive for the Channel Ports during the
first battle of Ypres, where the flower of the Prussian Guard had been
destroyed by our 7th Division, decided to dig themselves in and to
wait for the spring before opening another offensive on a large scale.
Consequently, when we relieved the French the trenches were little
better than ditches, and we had not even sandbagged parapets erected or
barbed wire entanglements thrown out in front. It was the surprise of
my life when our platoon officer informed us that the particular part
of the ditch which we were in was a trench, and was to be our home for
the next few days. A local attack from the Germans was expected at any
time, as they were anxious to get command of the Messines Ridge, ground
which they coveted for observation purposes. The French had warned us
to be particularly on the lookout this night, and advised us not to
post extra sentries, and it was very fortunate that we heeded their
warning, because about two hours after the sentries shouted from the
listening posts that the Germans were coming. The company commander
gave us instructions not to fire until he blew the whistle, and this he
did as soon as he could see the gray mass of figures advancing across
No Man's Land in the weird light of a misty moon. The Germans received
a very warm welcome from our particular part of the "Contemptible
Little Army," and must have also had a rude awakening when we opened
up with rapid fire with our Lee-Enfield rifles. They evidently thought
the French were in front of them, until they heard our fire, but as
they heard the rapid fire of the Lee-Enfields on previous occasions,
it didn't take them long to know that the hated British were on the
spot. "The Britishers' Mad Minute," was the name the Germans gave our
rapid fire when they first experienced it at Mons, because they were
astonished that infantry could average thirty rounds a minute per man.
This speed could not be equaled by any other army at the time, the
French being equipped with the Lebel rifle, which did not have a clip
loading action, and the Germans, who relied more on their machine gun
fire to break up infantry attacks, were amateurs in comparison to our
army, where rifles were concerned.
The Germans were mowed down before they reached us, and although they
made two further attacks during the night, we had not the opportunity
to use the bayonet, the Germans being all killed or wounded before
reaching our trench or ditch. The Germans gave up the attempt for the
Messines Ridge and during the terrible winter campaign of 1914 and 1915
we did trench duty, three days in the front line and then three days in
the reserve.
This awful monotonous life under the worst climatic conditions and
living in a sea of mud was only brightened by one incident during the
rest of the winter. The Germans hung up Chinese lanterns on Christmas
Eve and sang carols, and both sides refrained from firing. During
Christmas day some of the bolder spirits of the German regiment
opposite stood up on the parapet, and as none of our men would fire on
them, an unofficial armistice was therefore on. Our men did likewise,
and not a shot was fired, both sides believing in the old saying,
"Peace and good will to all men on Christmas Day." This was the only
time throughout the war that such an incident happened, as we received
strict instructions not to fraternize with the enemy on account of
their despicable and treacherous acts in bringing machine guns up under
cover of stretcher bearers on several occasions when armistices were
allowed to bury the dead shortly before Christmas.
When spring arrived, we were on tiptoe with excitement for the coming
offensive, as we were fed up with the trenches and mud and wanted to
get the Germans in the open.
The first offensive of the year 1915 was made by the British at Neuve
Chapelle on March 10th, and several divisions, including our own, were
massed in the vicinity a few days beforehand. Batteries of artillery
to the number of five hundred guns were masked and hidden until they
opened up for the preliminary bombardment. The Germans had no inkling
of the coming attack, and the surprise it caused was a nasty knock
to their boasted secret service and civilian spies, who were placed
throughout Flanders years before the war, and who posed as Belgian and
French farmers. They devised many schemes for informing the enemy what
was happening, and on previous occasions they had been able to supply
the Germans with accurate information by their windmill and other
tricks. This time they were fooled, and when the bombardment commenced
at 6.30 A.M. the Germans were at breakfast, according to the statements
which the prisoners made when they were captured.
We had taken our positions in the front line trenches the night before
and had erected trench climbing ladders for jumping over the parapets.
At 7 A.M. we went "Over the Top" in the first offensive our army
made since trench warfare first began after the battle of the Aisne
the previous October. At this time I was acting as company stretcher
bearer, and therefore had to follow the company as they advanced across
No Man's Land.
Although we had a large number of guns, we were very deficient in heavy
artillery and howitzers, the majority being 18 pounder field guns and
which proved a failure as a means to blast away the barbed wire and
parapets of the German trenches and redoubts.
On part of the line where we attacked, the barbed wire was not
destroyed and consequently we were held up and suffered terrible losses
from machine gun fire. At last, some of our men broke through the wire
by breaching it with wire clippers and then jumping in the trenches
bayoneted German after German, from traverse to traverse until they
were all accounted for in that part of the line.
Our losses were appalling during the few minutes it took to cut the
wire, our casualties totaling over 750 men out of the thousand engaged.
A young subaltern was the only officer who got through the engagement,
the colonel, major, adjutant and company commanders all being killed
while leading the attack.
Our officers had all been in the army for a number of years and were
excellent soldiers. We could ill afford to lose such men, as there
were none who could fill their places, and we noticed a remarkable
difference when the reinforcements arrived, the new officers being
hastily trained and the ink stains not yet off their fingers.
The remnants of the battalion reached the German third line of trenches
and there waited for reinforcements. For two days I carried the
stretcher without a rest until at last I collapsed under the strain and
had to rest for a few hours. How many men I carried I do not know, and
the last few hours seemed like a dream, broken with the cries of the
wounded.
My clothes were saturated with the blood of the men I bandaged and
carried, and when I was finally relieved, I had to get a new suit from
the quartermaster stores.
On the first night of the offensive, the Germans made a counter
attack in a vain endeavor to recapture the redoubt, and the line of
trenches called Port Arthur. During the attack, I was in the front line
attending to wounded men who needed attention, and so I had a good
view of the Germans as they were advancing.
They advanced, as was their custom, in close order, or mass formation.
Our reinforcements, who had come up just after dark, had brought
several machine guns, so we were quite prepared to give the Germans a
fight to a finish. Our officers, knowing that the Germans could not
break through our wire under the terrific hail of lead we would send
over, gave strict orders not to fire until the Germans were up to the
entanglements. Thus, at that short range, the slaughter would be much
greater, and fewer Germans would reach back to their own lines during
their consequent retreat.
There was not enough room on the parquet or firing platform for all our
men, and the unlucky ones who were left standing at the bottom of the
trench dragged some of the men on the parquets, so that they could get
a few rounds off, and so settle "old scores" with "Fritz." Under the
rapid fire of our machine guns and rifles the Germans were mowed down
almost to a man, very few of even their swiftest runners making a home
run.
I was in the trenches at Neuve Chapelle for a few more days until the
remnants of our battalion were taken to the rear to be re-formed
when the drafts arrived. After six days' rest we were again on trench
duty, and this continued until May 9th, when our division was moved to
Fromelles to participate in the offensive on that sector.
During the first part of this offensive our battalion acted as supports
to the London Rifles, whose objective was the German third line of
trenches. When this objective was reached we received the order to
advance in open formation. German machine guns opened up fire on us as
we advanced, and men were soon dropping like flies.
My chum, who was carrying the other end of the stretcher, was riddled
with machine gun bullets. It so happened that he was caught by the
group shots from one gun. It was lucky for me that the German machine
gunner was grouping his shots, and not using the traverse system, or I
would have been hit also.
I was then left to carry the stretcher alone, and while advancing
further saw our new colonel fall wounded, so I rushed to his
assistance. The bone of his leg was smashed by a bullet, and as I went
up to him he ordered me away, and told me to take cover or I would be
killed, as the bullets by this time were flying around in hundreds. I
walked a few paces and returned for another attempt to bandage him,
but he again ordered me to take cover, so I said to him, "Well, if you
don't want help, there are plenty around who do." This officer was
Colonel Vandeleur, who was captured during the retreat of Mons, while
in command of the Cheshire Regiment.
He escaped from the German prison camp, owing to the fact that he could
speak the German language like a native, and when he reached London by
way of Holland, he was granted an audience with the King, as he was the
first Britisher to escape from Germany. After having a rest, he was
again sent to France, and took command of our battalion.
Having lost my chum, I had to work single-handed, and this meant
carrying wounded on my back. We remained at Fromelles for three days
and were under bombardment all the time, the Germans being heavily
supplied with "Heavies" and a plentiful supply of "Jack Johnsons" and
"Coal Boxes."
Our attack at Fromelles was not as successful as we had anticipated,
owing to insufficient artillery support, and we were at a disadvantage
during the year 1915 on account of the shortage in heavy artillery.
The Germans, who had prepared for so many years beforehand, were
plentifully supplied with all kinds of artillery from 77 M. to 17-inch
Skoda howitzers and for every shell we fired they fired ten.
Shortly after the Fromelles affair, I was wounded while in the front
line, and remained in the hospital for three months. When I returned to
the battalion, they were doing trench duty at Fleurbaix, and with only
two minor engagements I suffered the agonies of trench warfare once
more, this time for several months, including the winter of 1915 and
1916.
On the first of July, 1916, an offensive on the Somme was started and
our division was now in the thick of it. This was a change from the
previous engagements, as our munition and armament factories in Britain
had been working at top pressure for months and we had ample supplies
of guns and ammunition and could give "Fritz" shell for shell.
I had left the stretcher bearers and during the Somme offensive I was
fighting in the ranks and went "Over the Top," this time with rifle and
bayonet. After severe fighting, we took Friecourt, our first objective,
and after entering the village the prisoners were collected, and I was
detailed to escort prisoners to the cages, and to remain as one of the
sentries until relieved. One of the prisoners who could speak English
asked me if the men of our regiment were sailors, because at this time
we wore the Scotch Balmoral Blach hats, and he evidently mistook them
for sailors' hats, as they are not unlike the headgear of the British
Navy, and it must have been the first time he had seen them, as most of
the Scottish troops were the Glengarrys.
I quickly informed him that we were the famous Scottish Rifles, the
old 90th of Foot who had made a reputation in previous wars, and who
intended to keep up the reputation made by knocking Hell out of the
Germans on every possible occasion. He was different than the rest
of the prisoners, the majority of them being morose and sullen, so I
kept up a conversation with him, and it was interesting at the time to
listen to a German prisoner who could speak English, and who wished to
tell me of the things that had happened to him. He had been a steward
on one of the Hamburg-American Line boats plying between Germany and
New York, and he had learned to speak English by talking to passengers.
He said that he was glad to be captured, and for this information I
handed him a few cigarettes.
Shortly after, I was again sent back to the front line, and during the
next two weeks we advanced twenty miles, capturing Combles and other
towns.
The battle of the Somme was the biggest offensive during 1916.
Considerable ground was retaken, and thousands of Germans captured. We
were sent to the Bethune front, which was at the time a quiet sector
in comparison to the Somme, and there we did trench duty for six weeks
before being returned once again to the Somme.
On the 23rd of October we again attacked and gained more ground. By
this time the Somme battlefield was a land of shell-holes and mud.
The hardships we had to undergo were terrible. The bombardments never
ceased, and sometimes it increased to drum fire. For the next few
months we remained on this front, this being my third winter in the
trenches, I was beginning to be "fed up" with the whole thing.
I had had one seven days' leave to England at the end of 1915, and in
November, 1916, I was granted one month's furlough on account of having
completed my term as a time serving man.
The Conscription Act coming into force kept me on for the duration of
the war, but in consideration of my long service, having completed my
thirteenth year, as stipulated on my attestation, this special leave
was granted. What a relief it was to know that for the next four weeks
I would not hear the shells or stumble along in the mud up to my knees,
and, sometimes, up to the waist.
How my mouth watered when I realized that I would get a change of diet
from the everlasting bully beef and biscuits, commonly known as "hard
tack." How pleasant to know that the "cooties" would soon be off me and
a new change of clothing on my back. One can only appreciate good food
and clean clothes after months of horror experienced by eating bully
and biscuits and being tormented by "cooties," or, as we called them,
"Wee Scunners."
During the month's furlough I spent in London, I had the time of my
life, but as all good days have to end at some time or other, I was
soon back in the trenches, and to make things worse, we were on the
Somme.
Christmas day I again spent in the trenches, but this time there was no
fraternizing, both sides being very bitter and for any of us to show a
head above the parapet meant death from a German sniper.
We could never forget the Zeppelin raids, the sinking of the
_Lusitania_, and the despicable treachery of the enemy on every
occasion, wherever they got a chance. The Germans proved themselves
worse than the lowest savages, and Lord Kitchener said that they were
worse than the Dervishes of the Soudan, the fanatics of the desert.
Never will a British soldier forget the incident where British soldiers
were burned alive, by the orders of Prince Rupprecht of Bavaria, and
the crucifying of the Canadians at Ypres.
In the spring of 1917 the Germans retreated to a new line of defense,
and for three weeks we advanced under cover of the night, throwing out
patrols, to try and get in touch with the Germans. This was a welcome
change, as there was no firing, and as we were on the move it was
less monotonous than being in the trenches. The Germans had destroyed
everything in their retreat, farm houses being blown up, orchards cut
down, cross roads destroyed, and every trick, the Germans who are past
masters in this kind of thing, knew so well how to do. The countryside
was laid waste, and I saw hundreds of dead men who had been left behind
by the Germans, unburied, and left to rot; most of them had been
mangled by shell-fire and it was sights such as these that make men
think of the terrible folly of war, and why such things should be.
We have one consolation, and that is, the men of the Allies who were
killed did not die in vain, as the objects for which we entered the
war have been achieved and the wrongs will be righted.