CHAPTER XXV. All That Was Left of Them

ALL THAT WAS LEFT OF THEM

"Look out!" called Lt.-Colonel Burland of Montreal to me.

"You make the hair stand up on my head. That 'blighter' has followed you up and down with his machine gun all morning, and it is a mystery to me how he manages to miss you."

"Well, you're a machine gunner too, and you know he traverses the Maxim after me by patting it on the cheek. I just step short two paces and he goes on."

This answer brought a roar of laughter from the grim warriors in the trenches. The sorry part of it was that that "blighter" in trying to get me had shot several other men.

All morning long the Germans had been trying to take St. Julien. The German artillery south of Zonnebeke sent a storm of shell, raking the rear of the trenches held by our troops from end to end with high explosives. In front of the trenches machine guns hidden in barns and houses ripped the top of the parapets of the hastily-formed trenches held by the Toronto Regiment.

Here Lieutenant "Bill" Jarvis of Toronto died the death of a hero. Medland, another of the Toronto boys much loved by his men, was hit. They were in a trench that was very much exposed which formed the connecting link between the battalion which held the wood north of brigade headquarters and the line of the 3rd Brigade before St. Julien.

"Bill" Jarvis, as he was affectionately known by all ranks in his battalion, had been struck the day before with splinters of shrapnel in the ankle. He was not disabled, and instead of going to the hospital he tied his emergency bandage over his wounds and "carried on." With a half dozen men he was ordered to clear a bunch of German snipers out of a house. When he got there he had only one man left, but the job was done and thoroughly done at that. Fearless to a fault, up and down the line he went during the night of Friday and Saturday morning. He was cut across the chest with a fragment of shell and had a bullet wound through his shoulder, still he refused to leave. Finally he sat down in his trench never to rise again. During the night he had carried a number of wounded to the dressing station but neglected to have his own wounds dressed. He fought as gallantly as his ancestors fought at Chippewa and Lundy's lane. A stern sense of duty kept him in the trenches when he should have been in the hospital. He gave his life for others. There was mourning among the sailing fraternity in Toronto, and Ridley College, Canada, half masted its flag in memory of the famous Cadet Captain who gave his life so freely on the Plains of Flanders.

All day long the tide of battle surged back and forward along the front line of trenches. Dearly the Germans were made to pay for every foot of frontage. Again and again they charged and were driven back. Then the hell of shell fire would be redoubled and preparation made for a fresh attack. With only a few guns in support it was very difficult to hold our own. When would the supporting troops and artillery come? For two days and two nights we had fought against odds of at least ten to one in men and fifty to one in artillery. The tragic monotony of it all was awful, but the honor of the Empire rested in our hands and it was our duty to play the game to the last man. Every few moments the shell fire and machine guns of the enemy would claim a victim.

Two brave men, Sergeant Coe and Private M.J. O'Connor, signallers, went into the machine gun trench, which was on our extreme left behind a hedge, to bring out Captain Dansereau's body. I also told them to bring back any papers which were left in the shelled and ruined dugout. Through the hurricane of shot and shell that tore the earth up in all directions they made their way. When they returned they told me that the bit of trench was almost filled with dead but they could not find my adjutant. When they went to the dugout to get my papers they found it wrecked and the maps and papers gone. Then I knew that my adjutant must have recovered consciousness sufficiently to get my papers, among them some maps, and that he must have got out, badly wounded as he was. He was the fourth officer of my staff to be wounded, and Major Marshall and Dr. MacKenzie were the only two left of our headquarters staff.

Early that morning while we were in the midst of some very strenuous fighting a message came down from headquarters to the effect that it had been reported that the "48th Battalion had been gassed and compelled to retire." The "fusser" and liar lives even on the battlefield. This story had been told by some runaway to give an excuse for his own cowardice.

I sent a message back that this report was untrue. Our telephone lines and telephone station had been blown up by a "coal box," so we had to depend upon runners to get messages through. One of these, Pte. M.R. Kerr, later on sent me a message from the hospital to the effect that he had taken a message through for me but had been struck by a shell on his way back with the receipt and had to be taken to the hospital. He apologised for not returning to report the message delivered. I recommend him for the D.C.M.

The left flank sections of the 8th had been gassed when the Germans tried to get through between that battalion and ours. Some of their supports had come to their assistance and had driven the enemy back and reconstituted the line. They were supported by a remnant of the gallant 10th. In the early morning of Saturday this undaunted battalion had been withdrawn from St. Julien Wood where they had earned undying glory. After rallying about two hundred and seventy men they marched down to our assistance but were diverted to our right. We heard shortly after noon through runners that two battalions of British troops, the Yorks and Durhams, were on their way down to assist us in a counter attack, but these corps did not arrive until later in the afternoon. They were raw troops only out that day from England. In coming down to Fortuyn they came in open order and the German "curtain of fire" took heavy toll.

After the first attack the Germans settled down to a steady diet of shelling and machine gun fire. I noticed men coming back to both flanks of our supporting trenches, so I went over to rally them and put those that were not incapacitated in with the few of our platoons that were left. In the rear of the right flank of the 7th I saw some men gathered behind a ruined house at a place we called Enfiladed crossroads and went over to see who they were. The moment I stepped out of my trench a German machine gunner got after me and I could hear the "swish swish" of the bullets a few feet in front of me. I realized that death was very near, so I stepped short and let him get his range a little ahead of me. His gun followed me for a hundred yards. I found Captain Victor Currie there trying to get the wounded away from the dressing station. Major Odlum, with a few of the remnant of the brave 7th, came along. Some of his men who were gassed were coming back and he was getting a trifle alarmed about his front companies as the enemy were launching attack after attack on St. Julien on his left. I told him to tell his companies to hang on till the last on the left and at the same time to take all the stragglers and put them into the trenches in rear of his left company as support. The ground on his right which I had crossed was badly enfiladed. Lieut.-Colonel Burland came along, having put all the men he could muster into our supporting trenches. He had been struck on the chest with a spent fragment of a "coal box" which had bowled him over, but he was still full of fight. When I started back across the Kerrserlaere Zonnebeke road for our trenches a short distance east, a devilish machine gun again got after me and followed me to the shelter of the dugout in which a number of the wounded had been placed. As I entered the door of the dugout half a dozen bullets pattered on the timber prop of the low doorway not a foot from my head. After seeing to the comfort of the wounded I started back along the trench, and my old friend the "German gunner" again took a crack at me. He certainly had it in for me that day. He caught a sergeant of the Royal Montreals a few feet away from me and he fell, shot in the spine. But a Merciful hand protected me. My hour had not come.

The companies of the 13th, 14th and 7th on our left were hanging on to their trenches like demons. The men in our forward trenches, subjected to a torrent of shot and shell after driving the enemy back and losing half their number, were still fighting valiantly. From a sap at the rim of the ridge I could see our torn trenches still occupied by a few intrepid men. I could hear the "chop chop" of the rifles as they drove off the Germans, who had now resorted to open formation to try and win our forward trench. Six ranks deep the German marines had come on to take our trenches. We did not know at first that we were opposed to the German Navy but we were. The marines had been brought down from the fleet to take our trenches and see some fighting. They paid a good price for their curiosity. One of our machine guns is credited with putting over four hundred of them out of business.

Behind the German position I could see the fields filled with great masses of troops formed up ready to be launched against us. God help the heroes that day in the forward lines! Few of them would return to Toronto or the green plains of Canada. I did not know then that the German Emperor was standing on the slope behind Poelcapelle watching his hosts trying to break through the thin Canadian line. Every time the foe fell back discomfited they turned the full fury of their thousands of guns on our front line. Volleys of shells fell in rapid succession along the thin French parapets. One would think that no human creature could live in the tremendous blasts and the showers of steel fragments from the high explosive shells that flew screaming through the air in every direction like mad things.

But the bond of an iron discipline still held the Canadians, not a sound came from the tortured trenches. When the guns were turned upon the parapets and a perfect deluge of bullets would rip through the sandbags and send the clay clattering down the osiers of the hurdles and willow gabions, there would come no response from the Canadian trenches, not a shot would be fired. Plucking up courage the Huns, with much hesitation, would emerge from their "funk holes," as our men called their trenches, port arms and start across the "devil's strip," hoping that the whirlwind of shells had despatched the last of the "white devils" from Canada. But no! They would only make about ten yards when the "warning whistles" of the dauntless Canadians would sound, and then the roar of rapid fire would rise. It was not for idle pastime our men had practised night and day with dummy cartridges going through the motions of loading and firing. The attacking lines would fall in whole sections, in many cases one bullet killing two or three men. The rifle fire of the Canadian marksmen was exceedingly deadly. Every bullet found a billet. Groans and cries from the dying and wounded Germans would reach us. We could hear distinctly the hoarse shouts of their officers as they ordered "Vorwarts, Vorwarts, Schneller," while the poor unfortunate privates dismayed by the deadly blast would groan "nein, nein." Then we would hear "Wir sollen Ihr lehren Ihre Canadian Schwein! Uns Neuve Chapelle, zu sagen." "We'll teach you Canadian swine to boast about Neuve Chapelle."

Then like one man they would turn and dash madly back to their parapets, leaving the trampled clay of the devil's strip heaped with writhing figures of wounded and dead.

Again and again we scanned the fields in the direction of Fortuyn to see if help was coming. If this process of attrition continued much longer there would be no front line. Meanwhile the German guns searched every foot of ground behind the crest of the Gravenstafel ridge. Every inch of ground that could afford a particle of protection, or was not quite visible, was torn to pieces with their "hi-ex" shells.

"Why are they throwing away so much good ammunition?" my men would ask me.

I knew but did not say anything. On account of the brave way in which our forward lines were fighting, the Germans fancied we had thousands of men in support. If they only knew they could have steam-rollered us. It is part of the game of war to impose on the enemy and we were carrying out that tradition. It was the biggest bluff Canada ever played.

About noon the Germans began blowing the troops out of the trenches on the right of our supports. I went down again with Lieut. Colonel Burland to the enfiladed crossroads to see what troops were there, and to learn if any word had come through from headquarters. I stopped at the field dressing station and ordered them to get the wounded away as quickly as possible as the enemy were shelling their quarters, evidently with the intention of destroying them. I met Major D.M. Ormond of the 10th who had retired some of the men on his left. He was asked to put his men back into the trenches below the crest of the ridge and hang on. He wanted us to go back with him but that was impossible. He was under the orders of the 2nd Brigade. I told him to direct any of his men who were slightly wounded, but still able to fight, to a line of trenches east of Hennebeke Creek, my idea being that the Germans were having such a tough time with the forward lines that as long as they suspected the crest was held they would not come on. Any troops seen going back to the crest would be taken for reinforcements. I knew that there must be an observation station not far from the German "machine gunner" that was following me and that this station would warn the enemy in our front that we still held the ridge in considerable strength.

This theory proved to be correct, for the supporting trenches then held by us on the ridge were taken over and held by the British troops for days afterwards.

It was late in the afternoon when the din and rifle fire in our front trenches ceased. Not a man came back, so I knew that every one had stood to his post until overwhelmed. About the same time, five o'clock, a blood-stained order reached me to retire the remnant to the Divisional Reserve trenches. By this time the relieving troops could be seen advancing in open order a short distance away. The Germans were still attacking the line held by the Seventh on our left along the Poelcapelle road. I watched them attack in open order at about three paces interval through a turnip field, the officer following behind with a drawn sword. Every time they reached the margin of the turnip patch, which had not been dug up and which was producing a perfect miniature forest of seed shoots, our guns and the 7th rifles would open on them and they would run back for cover. Again and again they persisted until finally the artillery ceased to fire.

As ordered I sent Major Marshall back to the headquarters trenches with what was left of the supporting platoons, some seventy men, and taking several scouts with me we endeavored to convey the order to retire along the line of front trenches. We were fired on and three of my scouts were hit. It will be remembered that the forward line extended about a thousand yards and consisted of a series of redoubts.

A wounded man told us that the redoubts at the east of the line, which had been surrounded by hordes of Saxons and marines for a long time, had been rushed when the ammunition ran out. Our men fought to the end with their bayonets.

The scouts sent down to the right were fired upon and only one of them returned. The Germans fired on Sergeant Coe and myself and tried to intercept us, but some of them would not intercept anybody any more. We got away with whole skins. Not a man or an officer in the redoubts remained unwounded when they were taken prisoner. Those who were not hit had been weakened with gas. It is no disgrace to be wounded and taken prisoner in a rear guard action.

Help was now coming in some strength and the situation was saved. I could see battalion after battalion coming down the Fortuyn road in extended order, and I knew that in a short time there would be an advance of these troops north-easterly towards the Poelcapelle road, closing the dangerous space held by the remnant of the 7th Battalion and taking over our supporting trenches and the crest of the gap along the Gravenstafel ridge to the 8th Batt.

The first troops to arrive were the Suffolks and the 12th London Regiment. A few German sharpshooters had crawled through the forward lines and were firing from the crest in two places. On our left the valiant 13th fought in their shallow fire trenches to the last man. Two companies of the 7th hung on to their trenches at the Poelcapelle road until they were overwhelmed by the onrush of Prussians, Saxons and Marine battalions that surrounded them on all sides. The company of "Buffs" that was in support behind the extreme right of the 13th was wiped out. I sent runner after runner along the front trenches but they were fired on and two of them failed to return. I could still hear the row and fighting in front of St. Julien, and the machine guns were going fiercely. I was the last man back. I had borne a charmed life all day, and certainly had a lot to be thankful for.

As we started out for St. Julien I sent some runners ahead of me to notify Captains Alexander and Cory to break off and retire to general headquarters line of trenches as soon as the British troops took over from them. The messengers came back and reported that the village was in the possession of the enemy and that they had been fired upon. Only an hour before I had received a message from Captain Alexander telling me that they were having a pretty tough time, that they were glad to know that I was still safe and that help would be very welcome.

We made several attempts to get into St. Julien but found the Germans held it in considerable force. It was some days later that we learned that Alexander and Cory and a devoted few had held on to the trenches at the northeast angle of the village, although surrounded all that night and part of the next day, Sunday.

On Sunday morning the British troops about daylight launched an attack to recover St. Julien. Four battalions, the Royal Irish Fusiliers, the Dublin Fusiliers, the Seaforth Highlanders and the Warwicks, with the Northumberland brigade in support, tried to retake the village. They found the remnant of the garrison very much alive in the northwest corner although surrounded by the Germans. They, however, failed to carry the village and save the Canadian garrison.

The 48th had suffered terrible losses along with the other battalions of the 3rd Brigade. The question may be asked why did we hang on. Why did not the Canadians retire when they found the Germans were in such force and determined to take their trenches? Instead they stuck to their redoubts and did not budge. They fought back to back when surrounded and refused to give up, driving the enemy back scores of times, until only about 100 of the 800 in our forward trenches were able to raise a rifle. They had lived up to the best traditions of a Highland Regiment. Had we retired, or had the corps at the angle which connected us retired, Canada would have been disgraced forever.

General Alderson, a couple of weeks later, after he had reviewed the whole situation answered all critics by issuing a general order to all the Canadians from which I quote.

"I think it is possible that you do not, all of you, quite realize that if we had retired on the evening of the 22nd April, when our Allies fell back before the gas and left our left flank quite open, the whole of the 27th and 28th Divisions would probably have been cut off, certainly they would not have got away a gun or a vehicle of any kind and probably not more than half the infantry. This is what our Commander-in-Chief meant when he telegraphed as he did that 'The Canadians had saved the situation.' My lads, if ever men had a right to be proud in this world you have.

"I know my military history pretty well, and I cannot think of an instance, especially when the cleverness and determination of the enemy is taken into account, in which troops were placed in such a difficult position. Nor can I think of an instance in which so much depended on the standing fast of one division.

"You will remember the last time I spoke to you, just before you went into the trenches at Sailly, now over two months ago, I told you about my old regiment, the E. West Kents, having gained a reputation for not budging from their trenches, no matter how heavily they were attacked. I said I was quite sure that in a short time the Army out here would be saying the same of you. I little thought, we none of us thought, how soon those words would come true. But now here, to-day, not only the Army here, but all Canada, all England and all the Empire are saying it of you."

The Canadians held their trenches like the West Kents. The German papers subsequently said that they (the Canadians) fought till their ammunition was gone, then they fought with their bayonets, and still unconquerable they died in the trenches they had dug. Every writer on this battle has given them unstinted praise.

The manner in which they held their trenches fighting to the last with small groups of men, taught a new lesson in tactics to the Allies which later on bore fruit at Verdun.