April 26th
The battery started to march about
8:30 a.m., halting outside the town of Vlamertinghe. As the battery remained
outside of the town, George, Collins, and I went with the CO to reconnoiter a
position for the battery.
As we neared Ypres we could hear the
hellish bombardment going on. While galloping along the road we witnessed dead
horses, overturned Lorries,[1]
and discarded equipment along both sides of the road. Hundreds of wounded were
being carried down, or seen hobbling along, the road the best way they could.
As we directed our horses through the
town, some disturbing sights met our eyes. It seemed that along every few yards
of the road there was something dead, or bits and pieces of men and horses that
had been blown apart during the bombardment.
Shells were still absolutely falling
everywhere. The town was an inferno. It seemed that every second man we met was
wounded. We said to each other, “I reckon we’re on the last lap of this
journey.”
We found a likely position where a few old
branches and some dugouts were still intact, about a half mile to the rear of
St. Jean. Shells were bursting right over us, so we continued to search for a
more favorable position. Yet everywhere we looked seemed to be the same. The captain
wasn’t comfortable with the area for there was practically no cover remaining.
We went a little closer to the town
where a Canadian Officer stopped us and asked what we were wanting. When we
explained that we were looking for a spot to bring the battery into position,
he said, “For God’s sakes, don’t bring them here; this corner is hell itself.
Get out of it as quick as you can.” Shells were dropping all around us. It
seemed astounding that none of us had gotten hit.
Afterwards I learned that this part
of the town was called “Dead Man’s Corner”. It deserved the name, for many dead
were there about.
We left the Canadian and returned to
our prior position. We decided it would have to suffice for all places seemed
to be equally vulnerable.
While the remainder of the battery
was approaching, we started to lay out a wire to a likely observation spot.
George took a couple of chaps to start from the observation station while
Collins, Billison, and I ran wire from the battery position through the village
of St. Jean. We managed to reach the village unharmed, but like everywhere
else, it was being heavily shelled.
I was jumping over a small stream
that was by the church when a large shell burst almost on us. We took shelter
behind a building. We could not move an inch due to all the shrapnel bullets
flying about. It was miserable, for we had to remain there for an hour as
shells continued to fall.
I noticed that just a few yards from
us an artillery man and his horse were lying dead. Nearby was a smashed motor
ambulance with the driver burned to a cinder. The ambulance’s petrol tank must
have ignited when it was hit by a shell. A native from one of our battalions lay
dead in a ditch. At the end of the
building there were several other corpses.
After a time the shelling abated a little,
allowing us to start moving again. I met up with George, who had been in much
the same terrible show as we had gone through. I was thirsty and thankfully
managed to get a drink of water.
As we made our way back, we didn’t
get far before the shelling started again. We ran for our previous little
shelter and gained it just in time. Shells were bursting very near and I asked
Collins, “What is that strong, stinking smell?” My eyes were watering and we
all three began coughing. We decided to chance it and go anywhere away from
where we were.
After an exciting half-hour we got to
the guns, but by that time I felt very sick. Afterwards we learned from an
officer that it was due to the gas shells the Germans were using.
Author’s note: I questioned the entry, “Afterwards we learned
from an officer that it was due to gas shells the Germans were using”. Since
I’m not an expert about this topic, I decided to post the question on the World
War One website, Great War Forum. My inquiry:
“Would my grandfather have been exposed
to chlorine or mustard gas?” The replies I received pointed out that mustard
gas wasn’t used until later in the war, in 1917. It would have been doubtful
that he would have received a dose of chlorine gas because of his location
during this period.
I remained curious as to the type of gas
exposure he experienced, as well as to the method of delivery. Upon further researching the topic, it came
to light that the Germans had used fragmentation shells filled with irritants
against the British in the Battle of Neuve Chapelle. The irritant used was
similar to that of tear gas, which would explain my grandfather’s symptoms of
watering eyes, vomiting and so on.
April 26th,
continued
It was very lucky that we hurried to
get out of it when we did or undoubtedly the three of us would have been gassed
properly instead of partially. As it was I had enough gas to sufficiently stop
me from eating anything for three days.
Shelling around the guns was getting
pretty warm but we started to return fire in good style. The wire broke three
times, and each time communications was lost with the forward observer. Normally
in this case the batteries would stop firing. However, it was agreed that if we
lost communications, we would raise the range of our guns.
During the afternoon I traveled
through St. Jean and while doing so I became uneasy, dreading any further
exposure to the gas. The reoccurring images of my previous gas experience made
me anxious and tense. By the time I returned at nightfall, I thought I had been
very fortunate to make it through the day.
The enemy kept up hard shelling
everywhere. It sounded like one continual roar of shells bursting over us, with
bullets and splinters knocking lumps off of my dugout. I really thought that
this place might be the finishing touch. Of all the places I had been
throughout the campaign, this was by far the worst. It seemed impossible for
one to live long in it.
I had a few hours’ sleep, yet was
awakened now and again when a large shell burst somewhere nearby. At daylight
we were at it again. The first thing that met George this morning was a shell
dropping just the other side of the hedge. It fell among what had been a
Canadian Battery Wagon line.
It didn’t matter that the shell fell
there, because most of the men had been killed when the Germans bayoneted them
while they slept. The enemy also hung a Canadian officer to a barn and used
bayonets to crucify a sergeant of the Canadian Scottish army to the barn door.
The Canadians’ wagon line once had
200 horses and now only a dozen horses remain.. If this wasn’t enough, all of
the Canadian guns were captured by the enemy. All this happened when the
Germans broke through our lines the previous week.
Later the Canadians were revenged through
a magnificent charge by their infantry. They are considered to be fine fellows
and splendid fighters. They hated the Germans and cursed them for their murderous
ways of waging war.
I was told that a couple of days
previous the Canadian Scottish were ordered to retire, but refused to do so.
Instead of retiring as ordered, they charged the enemy on their own. It was a
mad thing to do for they lost over 500 men, although they captured 100 or more
prisoners.
I dare say that not one of the captured
Germans was brought down as a prisoner. All the soldiers in the Allied Armies
started fighting like the enemy, no quarter given, and the Canadians gave none.
As evidence of this, just to the rear of our guns, there was the corpse of a
husky Prussian guardsman- a fine figure of a man who stood fully at 6 foot 3
inches in height. The Canadians had pinned him to a tree with a bayonet. They
stuck a postcard on his forehead that said, “Canada does not forget!” Then
someone had written, “We’ll give them crucify” next to the word “Canada”..
The cruel and barbaric happenings
around this period would fill a book with horrors of all descriptions. The
merciless style of war created by the Germans carried over to their enemy. The
centuries that it has taken to develop the meaning behind the word “civilized”
has only taken a couple of years to reduce to “barbaric.”
I was pleased with the splendid
fighting of both the Canadians and the Indian troops and proud that they were
fighting with us. By the end of
November, truly enough Canadians had served in the battle of Ypres as did the
7th, 8th, and 1st British Divisions.
April 27th
The shelling and firing continued
today at about the same level as yesterday. The only difference was that the
enemy started to send over their great 17 inch Howitzer shell into Ypres. These
mammoth shells were hitting our artillery and infantry over a mile to our rear.
The Germans must have been preparing for this battle for months because the
amount of ammunition they were launching at us was increasing.
George and I found another
observation post near St. Julien. It was located in the remains of a house
about 200 yards in the rear of our trenches. However, it was almost useless for
our wire was constantly getting broken. Its
location made it impossible to use signal flags.
Our captain was a perfect brick. He stuck it
out with us until he got carried away when one shrapnel burst landed nearby.
The burst caused him to leave the house and run to the safety of a fire trench.
Right after his departure a 17 inch came right into the house and almost
propelled it into the air.
When the smoke cleared, the house was
reduced to a pile of wreckage. Several natives had been killed, but Captain
Donahue was fine having made a lucky escape. Three natives were horribly
wounded and were pinned down under the wreckage. An officer mercifully shot
them to put them out of their misery.
With our observation post destroyed,
we continued to fire the rest of the day using a map. During the day several
shells fell on us. One pitched right in the heart of George’s wagon. Luckily
nobody was hurt.
In the afternoon the thought struck me
that it was my birthday.… Gee! It was a very grim and bloody one! Old George
and Collins had an exciting afternoon while going along the wire. They were
forced to take refuge in a shell hole and had to stay in it for a long while. They
eventually got back safely.
About midnight on the 27th, we got
orders to move at once to a position that was absolutely suicidal to hold. The
battery got away all right but I remained behind, along with my horse holder,
Albert. We were waiting for George and Collins to return from infantry
headquarters where they went to reel in what remained of our wire.
While waiting for George and Collins
to return, I was entertained by the combination of bursting shells, artillery
fire, and rockets being launched from both our and the Germans’ trenches. They
lit up the heavens like a gigantic fireworks display, similar to the ones I
watched as a child. I waited behind the shelter of a building for what seemed a
long time. After a while I started to think that they must have gotten knocked
over, so I resolved to go and look for them.
It was a nasty job as the road to the
village of St. Jean was being heavily shelled. Even though the road was
deserted I crept from tree to tree for protection from shrapnel. Everywhere I
stepped there were dead horses and an occasional body.
When I got to the village, two
infantry chaps were coming down from the other end of the village. I asked them
if they had seen anything of my chums, and they denied seeing anyone. They
advised me to go no further if I wanted to live. Taking their advice I decided
to return to where I had left the horses, thinking that George and Collins were
goners.
I was greatly relieved to find that
they had returned safely. They told me that they had chosen to come back a
different way, because it was too hot to go through the village and walk on the
road. I thought to myself, “Good show, old chaps” We returned to our battery.
I had hardly been back 10 minutes when a shell
struck the roof of the shed. Unfortunately we were inside when the tiles,
bricks, etc. fell in on us like a shower. George and I escaped injury, but
Collins got a whack in the shoulder although it was not serious. Nineteen
shells followed, all within 40 yards of us. It was amazing that not one of us
was touched.
The shells seemed to decrease their
range on the road leading through Ypres. Therefore we resolved to go for it and
did so with the maddest gallop I had ever requested from my steed!
My old charger never moved so quickly
as when we galloped round “Dead Man’s Gulch”. On our way through town we didn’t
encounter anyone, just dead horses and bodies. We made it through without
mishap. But our troubles for this night were not over yet.
I had only a faint idea of where our
battery was going. We continued to follow the road until meeting a point where
it split. Unaware of the battery’s direction, I opted to proceed to the right.
Eventually we found ourselves just on the left of hill 60, which was being
subjected to a fierce bombardment from all directions. At this point I knew I
had selected the wrong road. We turned around and made a mad ride back to where
the two roads joined, taking the alternate route.
We didn’t ride very far when we found
a reel of wire alongside the road. It must have fallen off one of the wagons,
so I knew we were on the right track. Eventually we caught up with the battery
just as dawn was breaking.
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