The Emma Gees Part 8

You people who have stayed at home can never realize what "leave"

means to a soldier after eight months in the trenches and I, for one, will not attempt the impossible by trying to describe the sensation.

We packed our kits and hiked to Poperinghe, where, after sitting up all night, we took train at four o'clock A.M., arriving at Boulogne about noon and were in "Blighty" by four in the afternoon.

"Oh, ain't it a grand and glorious feeling!"

CHAPTER XV

BLIGHTY AND BACK

In London we found things running along about as usual and proceeded to enjoy ourselves. Oh, the luxury of having clean clothes and being able to keep them clean: to sleep in real beds and eat from regular dishes and at white-clothed tables. It seemed almost worth the price we had paid to be able to get so much downright enjoyment out of the merest "necessities" of ordinary civilian life. The theaters were all running and we took in some show every night, but I derived the most satisfaction from taking my young companion around to see the museums and many old historical places in and about London. He was a stranger and I was fairly well acquainted.

But, when the time drew near for us to go back, I began to experience a feeling of depression. While I had not noticed it before, I suppose the c.u.mulative effect of the experiences of the last eight months was beginning to tell on me. I noticed that Bouchard appeared to be in about the same condition. He would sometimes sit for an hour or more, in our room at the Cecil, gazing into s.p.a.ce, never uttering a word.

Poor boy, while of course he could not _know_ that this was to be his last trip, I believe he had a presentiment that such was the case.

I found myself now and then "checking up" my own physical and mental condition. I had been slightly injured several times--two scratches from bullets on my left hand, a bullet in my right elbow, two pieces of sh.e.l.l in my shoulder, a knee-cap knocked loose and a fractured cheek-bone from the fuse-cap of a "whizz-bang." None of these had put me out of action for more than a few hours and I had managed to keep out of the hospital. (I had an instinctive dread of hospitals.) But I knew, right down in my heart, that my nerve was weakening. Thinking over some of the things we had done, I believed I could never do them again. I do not think the man ever lived who would not, eventually, get into this condition. Some men "break" at the first sh.e.l.l that strikes near them, while others will go for months under the heaviest sh.e.l.l fire but, as I have said, it will certainly get them in the end.

Of course I did not express any of these feelings to Bouchard, but tried to keep things moving all the time so as to give him little opportunity to worry. But, to tell the truth, I guess I needed the diversion more than he did, for he was the bravest and "gamest"

youngster I ever knew.

Before we left France for our week in London I was told by my Colonel that I had been recommended for a commission and something or other in the way of a decoration and he suggested that I call upon General Carson, Canadian General in London, and find out about it. I did call at the General's office several times but was unable to see him. It afterward developed that the commission had already been gazetted and I was really and truly a First "Leftenant." I did not hear of it for nearly a month and, during the interval, went through, as a sergeant, one of the hottest times in my whole career.

When our leave was up we, together with hundreds of others, left Victoria Station early one morning for Folkestone and Boulogne and so on, back to Poperinghe, where we arrived just at daybreak the following morning and were welcomed by an early rising boche airman, who dropped about half a dozen bombs, evidently aimed at the railroad station. Fortunately, no one was. .h.i.t. Then we trudged down the road, kilometer after kilometer, every one gloomy and grouchy, looking for our several units. Ours had moved and we spent the whole day before we located it.

We found the battalion in camp near the town of d.i.c.kebusch and soon settled down to the same old routine. They had not been back in the line since we left but had been engaged in some special work in and around this town, about which there is an interesting story.

d.i.c.kebusch was a town of several thousand inhabitants and considerable commercial importance, located on the Ypres-Bailleul road, about three and one-half miles directly west of St. Eloi. All troops going into the line anywhere from Wytschaete to Hill 60 were obliged to pa.s.s through or very close to it. Just east of the town was a shallow lake or pond, about a mile long and half as broad, called d.i.c.kebusch Etang, to cross which it was necessary to follow a narrow causeway, constructed by our engineers. While we continually pa.s.sed and repa.s.sed through the place, we never had any troops actually billeted there, as it was within easy range of the German guns and was still occupied by the native population.

About the time of the St. Eloi affair, however, one of our Brigade Headquarters had been located in a group of buildings at the edge of the town, perfectly camouflaged and concealed from aircraft observation. It had long been suspected that there were spies among the people of this place and that they had effective means of communicating with the enemy, so when Fritz turned his guns on that headquarters, no one was very much surprised, but a determined effort was made to discover the guilty parties. Just what means were used I do not know, but it was learned that several of the prominent citizens, including the mayor or burgomaster, were in on it and they were summarily dealt with.

Following this, German airmen dropped notices into the town, warning all the civilians to get out as they were going to raze it to the ground. Not many would have gone, however, had not our authorities ordered the evacuation. As soon as the people had moved out, our troops proceeded to prepare the buildings for use as billets, reinforcing lower rooms and cellars with iron beams and protecting them with sand-bags. This was the work with which our battalion, and others, had been occupied and was just about completed when, true to their word, the Heinies started in, systematically, to write "finis"

for d.i.c.kebusch. The church had already been pretty well shot up, as well as the surrounding graveyard where many of the tombs and monuments were smashed and the dead thrown from their graves. This blowing up of the dead seems to be a favorite pastime with the gentle Hun. They, the Germans, were now engaged in the demolition of the buildings along the princ.i.p.al streets and were doing it in a very thorough manner. We had here many demonstrations of a matter about which I have been questioned, times without number, by both military men and civilians, and that is, "What is the effective radius of a sh.e.l.l of a certain caliber?" It is one of the things which our theorists in general, and artillerymen in particular, delight in. Many hours of learned discourse have been devoted to proving, theoretically, that an area of a given size can be made impa.s.sable by dropping a certain number of sh.e.l.ls on it, at stated intervals. This is all rot. Common sense should teach us better. The plain fact is that it depends entirely upon what the sh.e.l.l strikes. If it falls on soft earth, the effect is merely local and a man within a few feet would be uninjured; while, should it fall on a hard, stone-paved road, pieces might be effective at a distance of half a mile or more.

In the bombing schools we are told that the Mills hand grenade has an effective radius of ten yards, yet one will quite frequently escape unhurt from a dozen of them bursting within this radius and yet may be hit by a fragment from a distance of two hundred yards or more. All these theories are based on the a.s.sumption that the ground on a battle-field is level, free from obstructions and of a uniform degree of hardness; not one of which conditions ever exists. A small ditch, a log or stump or a water-filled sh.e.l.l-hole will make so much difference in the effect of the explosion of a sh.e.l.l or bomb that all efforts to prove anything by mathematics is a waste of time. If one is unlucky he will probably get hurt, otherwise not.

CHAPTER XVI

OUT IN FRONT FIGHTING

We had been "home" but a few days when we received rush orders to pack up and march toward Ypres. There had been an intense bombardment going on up that way and we soon learned the cause from straggling wounded whom we met coming along the road. It was the second of June, 1916, and the Germans had launched their great surprise attack against the Canadians at Hooge. It was the beginning of what has been called the Third Battle of Ypres, but will probably be recorded in history as the Battle of Sanctuary Wood.

The enemy had gradually increased his customary bombardment and then, a.s.sisted by some mines, had swept forward, in broad daylight, overwhelming the defenders of the first and second lines by sheer force of numbers and had only been checked after he had driven through our lines to a depth of at least seven hundred yards over a front of nearly a mile, including the village of Hooge, and was firmly established in a large forest called Sanctuary Wood and in other woods to the south. By the time we had arrived at our reserve lines (called the G. H. Q. or General Headquarters Line), we were diverted and directed to a position on the line just south of the center of the disturbance where we "dug ourselves in" and held on for four days.

Sh.e.l.l fire was about all we got here, but there was plenty of that.

The rifle and machine-gun bullets that came our way were not numerous enough to cause any concern although we did lose a few men in that way.

Here the news of the fight filtered through to us. It seemed that the Princess Pat's (unfortunate beggars), had got another cutting-up, together with some of the Mounted Rifles, and Major-General Mercer and Brigadier-General Victor Williams, who had been up in the front line on a tour of inspection, had both been wounded and captured. General Mercer afterward died, in German hands, but General Williams recovered and remains a prisoner. It was said that less than one hundred from each the Pat's and the Fourth C. M. R. came out of the fight.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A Sh.e.l.l Exploding in Front of a Dug-in Machine Gun.]

At this place several of our gun positions were in the grounds of what had been one of the most beautiful chateaux in Flanders--the Chateau Segard, hundreds of years old but kept up in the most modern style until the war came. Now the buildings were but a ma.s.s of ruins. Not only this but the grounds had been wonderfully laid out in groves, gardens, moats and fish-ponds with carefully planned walks and drives throughout the whole estate which comprised at least forty acres.

There were trees and plants from all over the world; beautiful borders and hedges of sweet-smelling, flowering shrubs and cunningly planned paths through the thickets, ending at some old wondrously carved stone bench with perhaps an arbor covered with climbing rose bushes.

All had felt the blighting touch of the vandal sh.e.l.ls. The trees were shattered, the roads and paths torn up, the ponds filled with debris and the beautiful lawn pitted with craters, but in spite of all this devastation, the flowers and trees were making a brave fight to live.

I could not but think, as I wandered through this place, how well the little flowers and the mighty oaks typified the spirit of France and Belgium. Sorely stricken they were--wounded unto death; but with that sublime courage and determination which have been the admiration of the world they were resolved that _they should not die_.

Along the main road leading up to the chateau was a charming little chapel, handsomely decorated and appointed. It was the only structure on the estate that had not been struck by a sh.e.l.l. We used it as sleeping quarters for two crews whose guns were located in the immediate vicinity. One night a big sh.e.l.l struck so close as to jar all the saints and apostles from their niches and send them cras.h.i.+ng to the floor, but did no other damage.

This same thing happened to us once when we were sleeping in the convent school at Voormezeele, when all the statues on the walls were hurled down upon us by a large sh.e.l.l which struck the building.

The boys used to take these sacred effigies and place them on graves of their dead friends. We were not a very religious bunch but I suppose they thought it might help some--at any rate it proved their good intentions and I never interfered to stop it.

For several days the fighting continued furiously, the Canadians recovering some of the lost ground, including most of Sanctuary Wood, and then things settled down to the old "siege operation." During this time we had many opportunities to watch the splendid work of the men of the ammunition columns taking sh.e.l.ls up to the batteries in broad daylight and within plain view of the enemy lines. It was one of the most inspiring sights I have ever witnessed and brought back memories of pictures I had seen of artillery going into action in the old days.

Down the road they would come, on the dead gallop, drivers standing in their stirrups, waving their whips and shouting at the horses, while the limbers bounded crazily over the sh.e.l.l-torn road, the men holding on for dear life and the sh.e.l.ls bursting with a continuous roar all about them. It was the sight of a lifetime, and whenever they came past our men would spring out of the trenches and cheer as though mad.

Time after time they made the trip and the escapes of some were miraculous. A few were hit, wagons smashed and horses and men killed or wounded, but not many, considering the number of chances they took.

The stories of heroism during that first day's fighting equal anything in history. Batteries were shot down to a man but continued working the guns to the last. One artilleryman, the last of his gun squad, after having one arm shot off at the elbow, continued to load and fire. Then a sh.e.l.l blew off about a foot of the muzzle of the gun but he still kept it going. He was found, lying dead across his gun and a trail of clotted blood showed where he had gone back and forth to the ammunition recess, bringing up sh.e.l.ls. One member of the crew remained alive long enough to tell the story.

In another place, in Sanctuary Wood, were two guns known as "sacrifice guns," as they were intended to cover a certain exposed approach in case of an attack and to fight to the finish. How well they carried out their orders may be judged from the fact that every man was killed at the guns, _by German bayonets_, after having shot down many times their own number of the enemy.

Our old friends of the Lah.o.r.e Battery lost so many men that they were having difficulty in maintaining an effective fire until two of our machine-gun squads volunteered to act as ammunition carriers, which they did for several hours, suffering heavy casualties.

Here occurred the only case of which I have ever heard where one of our medical officers was apparently "murdered." Captain Haight, M. O.

of one of our western battalions was reported, on excellent authority, to have been bayoneted and killed while attending the wounded.

While we were here, Major-General Turner, V. C., who was in command of the entire Canadian Corps, paid us a visit. He came up unannounced and accompanied by a lone Staff Captain. I was instructed to act as his guide over our sector. During one trip along an exposed road we found ourselves in the midst of a furious hail of sh.e.l.ls. I looked at the General to see if he wanted to take cover (I'm sure the rest of us did); he never "batted an eye" but continued at an even pace, talking, asking questions and stopping here and there to observe some particular point. I overheard one of our men say: "_General_ Turner?

General _h.e.l.l!_ he ain't no general; _he's_ a reg'lar _soldier_."

On the night of the sixth we were relieved and, next day, took up our quarters in d.i.c.kebusch. The Emma Gees had taken possession of a bank building, about the best in town, and had strengthened it, inside and out, with steel and sand-bags until it looked as though it would withstand any bombardment. Fortunately it was not hit while we were there, although many large sh.e.l.ls fell very near; but when I again pa.s.sed that way, just a week later, I noticed that a big sh.e.l.l had gone through our carefully prepared "bombproof" and completely wrecked it. We only remained a few days and then received orders to go into the front line at Hill 60 (south of Hooge), as an attack was to be made to recover the trenches lost on the second.

_HOLLEBEKE TRENCH MAP_

_The map on the opposite page is a reproduction of what is known as "Hollebeke Trench Map--Part of Sheet 28." Famous Hill 60 is shown encircled by a contour line, just below Zwarteleen. The road running off at top and left of map leads to Ypres. The black and white line immediately to the right of this army road is the railroad from Ypres to Comines. The fine irregular lines represent the perfect network of main and communication German trenches. Various signs indicate supply dumps, dug-outs, mine craters, observation posts, earthworks, mine craters fortified, hedges, fences or ditches, churches, mills, roads, footpaths, entanglements, ground cut up by artillery fire, etc., etc. The British front-line trench is shown very faintly on this reproduction but can be picked up as it pa.s.ses through the first "e" in Zwarteleen and traced up past the figure 30. At the left of Zwarteleen it can be seen crossing the railroad and army road.

This map, as were the others, was carried by Captain McBride and the section shown represents about one-sixth of the total size.

It was made from photographs taken by Allied aviators. The blurred line bisecting the map just below figures 35 and 36 is one of the well worn folds in the map_.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Hollebeke Trench Map]

As we had never been in the sector it was necessary for the non-commissioned officers to go in a day ahead to locate the gun positions and be able to guide the section in. We went in in daylight (the non-coms.) and found it to be the longest trip we had ever undertaken on such a mission. From Bedford House, on the reserve line, it is at least two miles to the front line, all the way exposed to observation and fire. There had been a little trench tramway but it had been wrecked by sh.e.l.ls. By breaking our party up into twos we escaped any severe sh.e.l.ling and the rifle fire was at such long range that we ignored it. Beyond three hundred yards the German's shooting is a joke.