Over the top with the 25th Part 1

Over the top with the 25th.

by R. Lewis.

Chapter One

The end of August, 1914, found me following my usual employment as second mate on a small steamboat plying between St. John's, Newfoundland, and various stations on the coast of Labrador. The news from the front aroused my patriotism, and though my captain, who was a Britisher through and through, strongly urged me to remain with him because of the great difficulty of securing another man, I was fully made up in my mind that my clear, plain duty was to enlist. On my return trip to St. John's I found, greatly to my disappointment, that it was all too late to enroll my name in the already organized Newfoundland regiment. There was nothing for it but to cross to Canada and try my luck at enlisting there. Arriving at Sydney, and making enquiries, I discovered that the second division was not going to be formed up for some little time, and I therefore enlisted in the 94th Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders. With them I remained in Sydney until October of the same year when the 25th Battalion was organized--a battalion which has since covered itself with glory and earned the legitimately proud t.i.tle of "The Fighting Twenty-Fifth."

Although I was one of them myself, I do not hesitate to a.s.sert that a finer bunch of men never left the sh.o.r.es of Nova Scotia to take up arms for Britain in the fields of France and Flanders than the gallant boys of the splendid Twenty-fifth. The general public does not appear to know very much of the achievements of this battalion and this perhaps may be due to the fact that we left Canada in May of 1915, and that we had been in France some nineteen months before any other Nova Scotia Battalion went into action as a unit. This story is not being penned with the slightest idea of seeking in any way to disparage the Nova Scotia Highlanders; that intrepid body of superb fighters have fought splendidly and well and their glorious record is fresh in the minds of all.

It has been my privilege to be with the Twenty-Fifth right from the day of its organization until the 23rd of April, 1917, and now, from records and diaries which I have kept from the beginning, I am attempting to relate the true story of the wonderful work accomplished by this battalion.

As previously intimated, we organized in the October of 1914, and at that time I was a private under Major MacRae. Since then, to quote the words of Kipling,

"Things 'ave transpired which made me learn The size and meanin' of the game.

I did no more than others did, I don't know where the change began; I started as an average kid, I finished as a thinkin' man."

In those early days following upon enlistment we enjoyed some real good times in Halifax and the old boys will always recall with genuine appreciation the many kindnesses shown us by the citizens.

Taking all the various circ.u.mstances into consideration we were well looked after by the military authorities; of course, our one burning eagerness was to get over to France and plunge into the thick of things as speedily as possible, and when it was rumored that we were going to be put on home duty feeling ran pretty high among the men and some quite lively times were experienced! The rumor, however, came to nothing and we settled down to the routine of our daily drill. By this time I had transferred to the Machine Gun Section and became linked up with "B" Co. with Lieutenant Medcalfe second in command. I shall not waste s.p.a.ce in telling you about the time we strutted about, proud of our khaki uniforms, hugging the fond thought that we were real soldiers, even as not a few who today, still at home, wearing the uniform, are victims of the same absurd delusion. At last the great day came--the day of our embarkation; we were going to say our farewell to the land of our birth, sail away over the ocean and begin our great adventure, taking our place among the soldiers of the King and Empire in the greatest fight for liberty and right which the world has ever witnessed.

Eager and keen, and with spirits high, we stepped aboard the old "Saxonia" along with the 22nd French-Canadian regiment, and sailed on the 20th of May, 1915, arriving in England after a pleasant but uneventful voyage. We found the training in England far more thorough than anything we had before experienced. We had to work, and real hard, too, but undoubtedly the process made us better men and tended to increase our confidence as soldiers.

Chapter Two

It is obvious that to relate to my readers the truth concerning the Twenty-Fifth it is necessary to be somewhat critical, and I shall endeavor to be absolutely impartial. To begin with, let it be said, and said with perfect candor, that the credit of handling our battalion in England which eventually helped us to go across to France must be given to our own officers.

For the most part we greatly enjoyed our stay in England. We had a splendid time in Folkestone, a beautiful sea-side place; and for company we had about 50,000 Canadians in addition to some English cavalry. After a little more than three months' training the welcome news arrived that the next item on the program was France and the firing line. This information was received with the utmost enthusiasm, for the boys were getting somewhat "fed up" with training and were anxious for a crack at the Hun. On going over, we had to leave some of our officers behind, as they were "extra" to the establishment. Among them were Will Cameron, Charlie MacAloney and others. They came out later and proved their worth as fighters. Arthur Weston, who was second in command, refused to stay behind and accompanied us to France as quartermaster, thus setting a fine example to a good many majors and captains who would rather hang on to a job in England than cross to France and fight. Weston was not of this type. He was a soldier and a man.

We landed in France on the 15th of September, 1915, and I will never forget that first march, heavily accoutred, over a big hill to our first camp. You could easily have picked out our train by reason of the boots etc., strewn along the line of march, and followed us without difficulty from the day we left Boulogne till we finally arrived at a little village in Flanders called ----. Here, within sound of the guns, we bivouacked for the night, some of the officers going ahead to look over the trenches we were so soon to occupy. The next night, under cover of darkness, two platoons from each company went up to the trenches. I well remember that night, the long march up the rough sh.e.l.l-torn road, and then along the communication trenches where we were received by the Imperial troops who, during the next few days, showed us all around and taught us what to do. Two nights later the remainder of our own boys came in, and the English soldiers went south to take part in the battle of Loos. It was about this time that Major Jones, as fine a soldier as ever went overseas, suffered a breakdown in his health. The heavy responsibilities thrown upon him proved too much.

After spending eight days in the trenches we came out for a well-earned rest. My particular company was stationed at a farmhouse which was situated quite close to the firing line. The owner was generally considered to be pro-German, his father, according to rumor, having previously been shot as a spy. The farmer had a dog which had been tied up for about nine months, and our sentries had strict orders that if any of the civilians left the house we were to halt them, and if they did not halt on the word of command we were to shoot. But I think at that time it would have been a case of "shoot first," for we were imagining all sorts of things. As it happened somebody let the dog loose, and as the sentries felt sure he was going over to the German lines with despatches, they just shot him dead. Major MacKenzie had to pay 30 francs for him to satisfy the farmer and to prevent headquarters hearing of the matter.

At the termination of our six days' rest we went back to the trenches and relieved the 24th Battalion. "B" Company, to which I belonged, occupied H 3, J 3, 4, 5 and H 4. Every little while Fritz would "strafe" us with rifle grenades, and there was some mining reported in H 4. This was a small salient; and was held by about forty men under Capt. Medcalfe.

On the evening of October 8th about six p.m. we were all chatting together, some papers from home had been received by some of the boys and we were discussing the names of the newly formed 36th Battery, when all of a sudden there was quite an explosion on our right. The Germans had blown up several small mines. Capt. Medcalfe at once gave the order to "stand to," but before I had time to get my rifle and equipment, the ground trembled and rocked beneath us and everything went up into the air. The explosion took away fully half of H 4 trench, and left a crater about 10 feet deep. Those of us who were lucky enough to escape without being wounded managed, I don't know how, to make our way into H 3 trench. Fortunately for us the enemy was very erratic in his artillery fire. It was all going between our second and third line trenches and consequently did no damage. This was our first real bombardment, and quite naturally we all felt more or less "shaky"--I know I said my prayers that night as I never said them before! The papers had it that the Germans got into our trenches and that we drove them out again. Such a thing never happened. They made an attack on us, but our artillery, rifle and machine gun fire caught them in "No Man's Land." By a happy coincidence the West Lancas.h.i.+re Artillery was just relieving the 7th Battery of Artillery and we had the support of both of them, and, believe me, they sure did some wonderful work.

Our front line officers, such as MacRae, Logan, MacKenzie, Tupper, Roberts, Johnson and others, were all out on the job; unfortunately the same cannot be said of headquarters. As I was merely a private at the time I do not know just what really transpired; but we never saw the colonel at all that night. About four the next morning the major came and paid us a visit when we had a new parapet built. The Germans, however, failed to get into our trenches; and up to this day the 25th can with perfect truth declare that they never failed in the critical hour, for if we did not always have competent officers at the head of the battalion we certainly had them in our companies. Following this action we were marched out of the trenches for a rest, and prior to going back again, we were visited by General Alderson, who gave us a pretty severe lecture. He said he had every confidence in the men. A few days later Colonel Hilliam took over the command, and Major Stan Bauld was appointed second in command.

Chapter Three

When officers arrive in England they are given the option of going to France as lieutenants or going back home. That is the reason you see so many bold footed officers holding down staff jobs in England and Canada. Colonel Hilliam who was now our commanding officer, says that the 25th battalion made his name; but the 25th boys are equally positive that he made the battalion. It was truly wonderful the confidence we placed in him and he never disappointed us. He was very strong on discipline, and when all is said and done that is most essential in the army. Without it a battalion simply becomes a mob.

During the winter we were on the Kimmel front. It was a bad year in the trenches, for the rain and mud were something awful. The mud was waist deep and of such a nature that once a fellow got stuck it took another chap to get him out. For about two months they were trenches in name only; they were caved right in and the boys that were doing front line work would go in at 8 o'clock one night and would not be relieved until 8 o'clock the next night--twenty-four hours without any hot food. I must say that we found the hot rum ration that winter to be a most desirable thing.

Our colonel was a regular fire eater, and wanted to be at it all the time. He organized a raiding party in charge of Capt. Tupper along with Brooks, Cameron and Roberts. All four of them proved to be great fighters. They were the pick of the battalion.

And now enters that great hero--Toby Jones--"the Man who came back!"

He was machine gun officer, and the Colonel also put him in charge of a wire cutting party, and thus he was carrying the responsibility of both jobs. He would be around his guns all day and at night he would be scouting all over "No Man's land" and in December, 1915 it was no joke crawling around in the mud. He never got any rest. He would not eat, and the day of the raid Fritz had straffed us quite a lot. I was in trench S.P. 12 along with Toby when a message came to tell us that a sh.e.l.l had knocked in one of the dugouts and had killed one of our N.C.O's, Corporal Ferguson, a chap who was well liked by everybody. A road named the "V.C. Road" separated us from J 4. The Germans were sh.e.l.ling this road pretty bad; but as soon as Toby got the message he did not hesitate one minute but went across to J 4. He seemed to have had a charmed life. Sh.e.l.ls were bursting all around him but he never got a scratch. That night Corporal Ingraham and the McNeil brothers, the three biggest dare devils that were in our battalion left our dugout on a wire cutting expedition. Imagine, three or four men lying on their backs in mud and water cutting at Fritz's wire just a few feet away from his trench! Jones would go around his gun teams to make sure that everything was all right and then he would visit his wire cutting party.

Night after night Toby would be engaged in this dangerous and telling work. It proved too much for flesh and blood, and one night just as a visit was planned he broke right down and was carried to our lines on a stretcher. Well, Toby got the blame for the failure of that evening and left our battalion; but as the old adage puts it "You can't keep a good man down" and Toby Jones enlisted again as a private in the 42nd Battalion--won back his commission with the D.C.M. and a bar. Every man in the "Fighting Twenty-Fifth" lifts his hat to Toby Jones--the greatest hero of them all!

We carried out several raids the next few weeks on the Kimmel front, and, as a matter of fact, it is no exaggeration to say that trench-raiding which has since been carried out so extensively was really initiated by the "Fighting Twenty-Fifth." Before proceeding further, let me describe a trench. They are all transversed, because if a sh.e.l.l or bomb should burst in one part of the trench the transverse prevents the spread of the shrapnel. A communication trench is usually to connect the trenches together, and sometimes these trenches are a mile long reaching from the front line to some part behind the line where it is comparatively safe to walk around. They are very deep and zig-zag in shape so that they cannot be enfiladed.

On the Belgian front we could not have deep dugouts for the soil was so soft. To dig down a few feet was to strike water. At first we only had sand bags shelters, then we had the corrugated iron ones which were shrapnel and bomb proof.

Chapter Four

We stayed on the Kimmel front from September 15th until sometime in February. We were never in anything big here for it was winter time and we had all our work cut out in repairing and rebuilding trenches.

Now I have made mention of the fact that we came out for a rest, but that does not mean to say that we didn't work, for whilst we were resting we figured in many working parties. We all learned to believe that

Our section was the best in the Platoon Our Platoon the best in the Company, Our Company the best in the Battalion, Our Battalion the best in the Brigade, Our Brigade the best in the Division, Our Division the best in the Corps, Our Corps the best in the Army, And that the British were the best in the world.

Our old Colonel would have concerts and lectures arranged for us when we went to rest, and on Christmas day we had quite a big dinner, thanks to the people at home who helped by sending us quite a lot of nice things.

As you might know we had quite a lot of Cape Breton boys. They were needed to do some mining and they were splendid at that work. The miners work is as follows; first they sink a shaft so many feet down, and then when they get down deep enough they start sapping forward, putting up timbers as they go. They have to work very quietly as Fritz also does some sapping and if too much noise is made the miners themselves are liable to go up in the air and come down in pieces, and I do not think that anybody would relish that idea. Mining is done now on a very large scale. So you see this war is carried on underneath the earth as well as underneath the water.

I will remember a certain officer who got the creeps after the October affair and would always go around wearing armored body plates, and every time he heard a rat scratch he thought it was a mine. He heard a noise in his dugout and he cleared all the men out of his trench and had the miners up. They dug down and found that his place must have been over an old dugout and that there were quite a number of rats running around having a good time all to themselves. Certainly, I must admit that I was no hero myself. When our front trenches started to cave in we had to get out in front into No Man's Land and dig a new trench and what earth we excavated we had to throw up against our own front line trench, and although at the present time I would think nothing of it I was sure some scared. But after you are there awhile you do not mind it at all. The first winter Bill Cameron, along with his scouts used to live in No Man's Land. They thought nothing of doing that. They used to be planning to do all sorts of things, but the opportunity only seldom came for them to do anything out of the way, except it was to go over No Man's Land searching for dead bodies and curios, and those chaps were game enough for anything.

[Ill.u.s.tration: LIEUT. CANNING, M.M.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: MAJOR MACRAE OFFICER COMMANDING "A" CO., 25th BATT.]

The whole time we were on this front everything went very smoothly, for we had one great man at the head of our Battalion. We were great friends with the French-Canadian Battalion, but there was another Battalion in our Brigade with whom we did not pull at all, and there was always a certain amount of jealousy between us, which was a good thing as we were always trying to outdo the other. Their Commanding Officer thought that they were the best battalion that ever left Canada, and Hilliam, the bulldog that he was, would not stand for that; so there was always a certain amount of rivalry between us.