CHAPTER XI

BITS OF WAR

One of the bravest officers I ever met is the hero of the following story. He was in the front line trenches for the first time, and was very eager to go "over the top." He devoured every story told by the officers in the dugout of their prowess in fighting the Hun. We could all see in his cherubic countenance that he believed everything he was told.

The dugout was rather cramped for space and not at all comfortable, so that when one of the Junior Subs asked him if he would like to take a walk, he readily assented. The hour was about midnight, and the Junior Sub informed him that as soon as he made arrangements with his N.C.O. they would take the desired walk. Arrangements having been made, our "hero" was informed that all was in readiness, and the little party set out.

Imagine the amazement of Lieutenant F. when the Junior Sub and the N.C.O. climbed out of the front line trench into No Man's Land. Our "hero" whispered these words: "Where are you going? I thought you were going for a walk?" "So we are," replied the Junior Sub. "We are going to take a walk to Fritz's barbed-wire entanglements. Are you afraid to come?" The reply was, "No, but I am just a little disappointed. I thought when you asked me to take a walk that you were going back towards the support line. However, I am not afraid."

He then immediately climbed out, and in his hurry fell into a shell hole just outside of our barbed-wire entanglements. As he fell, he shouted, and with the shout up went some German flares that illuminated their sector of No Man's Land. Before the flares died out, the machine guns of Fritz began to search out the spot. Our hero had sense enough to keep in a shell hole and, after the lights had died down, he heard the voice of the N.C.O. who had crawled on his stomach to the lip of the shell hole, asking him if he had lost anything. He afterwards told me that if he had answered truthfully he would have said "Yes," as his nerve had played him false.

However, he replied, "No, I have not lost anything, but I have found something."

He had by then regained his courage, so he moved like a veteran towards the German wire entanglements. Having accomplished their mission, they returned to our trenches, the Junior Sub and the N.C.O. leading. As they disappeared into the trench, our hero had just got to the shell hole where he had fallen in previously. In his haste to reach the trench, he was caught on the entanglements by one leg, with the result that he was thrown to the ground.

Again he shouted, but this brought a quick reply from the Huns. The flares were sent up and then began a fusilade of machine-gun fire at our luckless hero, with the result that the baggy part of his breeches was riddled with bullets. But, strange to say, he himself did not receive a scratch.

Eventually he reached the dugout just as a drink was being served to the Junior Sub. Lieutenant F. was asked if he would like a drink, and his reply was, "Certainly I will have one, thank you." As the drink was handed over to him we noticed that he was perspiring very freely. And as he reached over to take it, we all saw that his hand was shaking like a man with the palsy. One of the officers asked him if he was scared. He replied, "You are damned right I'm scared. See what Fritz has done to my breeches!"

During the attack on Vimy Ridge, Number One Platoon, under the command of Lieutenant Clements, who afterwards received the Military Cross for his good work in connection with this attack, was detailed to capture the Volker Tunnel. His men were supplied with electric flashlights, and, in order to distinguish them from the other platoons, they all wore white armlets above their elbows. Their special work was solely to capture the tunnel and to cut all the electric wires, as we suspected that mines had been laid under the various German trenches.

The moment our barrage had lifted from the German front line trench, Lieutenant C. and his men fought their way through this tunnel. In the tunnel he surprised a German officer who was fast asleep. How this officer could have slept through the noise of our barrage was a mystery. We presumed that he must have been intoxicated, or that he had become so accustomed to our usual strafing of their trenches that he did not pay any attention.

Lieutenant C. aroused him out of his sleep by shining his flashlight upon his face. The German officer appeared very much astonished, and informed us, through one of our men who could speak German, that they had been expecting us to attack on the first of April, and as we had not attacked on that date, they thought that we would not attack until the 15th. He also stated that two regiments of German infantry had been sent up to their support lines to be ready for what they thought our attack on the 15th of April.

At the point of a pistol that was held by a very determined officer, it did not require much persuasion to make the Hun officer disclose where the wires were attached to the mines that would have blown us to "Kingdom Come," although the Germans had evidently thought Vimy Ridge was impregnable. Nevertheless, they had prepared for all eventualities.

I visited this tunnel on April 10th, and as I descended, helped by the constant aid of my flashlight, I came to the nice little, well-furnished room in which the German officer had been surprised. It was forty feet underground.

I followed a passageway about ten feet broad and seven feet high. Every few yards I had to pass over the bodies of dead Germans. There had been fierce hand-to-hand fighting. Our boys had certainly used their bayonets with good effect. Some prisoners had been taken and, strange to say, one of the prisoners had lived in Montreal and had been engaged as a waiter at one of the large hotels. He could speak excellent English, and he informed one of the boys that there were several of his fellow soldiers who had been engaged as waiters in New York and Chicago. But these had all been killed in the tunnel.

As I advanced along the tunnel it became wider and on both sides were two tiers of bunks. Many of these contained the bodies of dead Germans which were placed there in order to make the passageway less congested. Later on these bodies were taken out and reverently interred.

I slept for about two hours that night in one of the lower bunks. In the upper tier above me was the body of a dead German.

The Germans had built this tunnel with two objects in mind: first, to enable them to bring forward reinforcements from the_ Zwischen Stellung_ trench to their front line, which was a distance of 560 yards, without exposing them to our observation and artillery fire and, secondly, that they could also withdraw their men from the front and support trenches without suffering any casualties.

The Germans had made every arrangement with a view to the comfort of both their officers and men. Electric light had been generated from Vimy Village. The tunnel could shelter comfortably one battalion. Ventilation shafts ran up from it to the surface, and there were chambers or rooms off the main passageway to serve the purposes of a garrison that might be isolated. Commander's post, telephones, temporary hospital, baths with hot and cold water installation, and depots for ammunition and food were here.

It can readily be seen that the Germans expected to remain on the spot, but our New World troops upset their calculations.

One day on the Western front there was a duel in the air. It looked as if the old days were to come back again, when the armies would cease fighting and watch their respective champions in single combat. This fight resulted in the death of Immelman, at that time Germany's most distinguished aviator.

It was in truth a duel, no chance meeting of men determined to slay one another, but a battle following a regular challenge and fought by prearrangement and without interference from either side. This air battle was witnessed with the deepest interest by the men of both armies who were crouched in the trenches and separated only by a few yards at No Man's Land. The fire of the anti-aircraft gun on both sides was stilled. Captain Ball, the youthful English pilot who was recently killed after a series of winning battles in the air, was the victor. The story of the duel, which was one of the most sensational events of the war, was told in a letter written to me by a friend of mine who was one of the eye witnesses of the fight.

One morning Captain Ball, who was behind our sector, heard that Immelman was opposite. "This is the chance I have been waiting for. I am going to get him," declared Ball. His friends tried to dissuade him by saying the story of Immelman's presence probably was untrue. Ball would not listen. Getting into his machine, he flew over the German lines and dropped a note, which read:

"Captain Immelman:

"I challenge you to a man-to-man fight to take place this afternoon at two o'clock. I will meet you over the German lines. Have your anti-aircraft guns withhold their fire while we decide which is the better man. The British guns will be silent.

"(Signed) Ball."

About an hour afterwards a German airman swung out across our lines and dropped Immelman's answer:

"Captain Ball:

"Your challenge is accepted. The German guns will not interfere. I will meet you promptly at two.

"(Signed) Immelman."

Just a few minutes before two, the guns on both sides ceased firing. It was as though the commanding officers had ordered a truce. Long rows of heads popped up and all eyes watched Captain Ball from behind the British lines go off into the air. A minute or two later Immelman's machine was also seen in the air.

The machines ascended in a wide circle. There were wild cheers on both sides, each for the respective champion. Captain Ball, thousands of feet above us and only a speck in the sky, was doing the craziest things imaginable. Our soldiers' cheers turned to cries of dismay. Ball was below Immelman and was apparently making no effort to get above him and thus gaining the advantage of position. On the contrary he was carelessly swinging around this way and that, attempting, it seemed, to postpone the inevitable.

We saw the German's machine dip over preparatory to starting a nose dive. "O Lord, he's gone now," cried a young soldier at my side, for he knew Immelman's gun would start its raking fire once it was being driven straight down.

Then, in less time than it takes to tell, the tables were turned. Before Immelman's plane could get into firing position, Captain Ball drove his machine into a loop. Getting above his adversary and cutting loose with his gun, he smashed Immelman by a hail of bullets as he swept by. Immelman's aeroplane burst into flames and dropped. Ball, from above, followed for a few hundred feet and then straightened out and raced for home. He settled down, rose again, and hurried back to release a huge wreath of flowers almost directly over the spot where Immelman's charred body was being lifted from a tangled mass of metal.

Four days later Captain Ball was killed. He attacked, single-handed, four Germans. One he had shot down. As he pursued the other three two machines dropped from behind the clouds and closed in on him. He was pocketed and killed, but not until he had shot down two more of the enemy.

You can never judge his ability as a fighter from a man's appearance. Private Davis was a runner, about 26 years of age, attached to my company headquarters. He was a small and unassuming man, very neat in his appearance and always spick and span, even in the trenches. His companions often wondered how he could manage to keep himself so clean and tidy.

One night Davis, being near company headquarters, overheard the officers discussing an intended raid on a German machine-gun emplacement, which we thought was a short distance in front of the German trenches. This machine gun had caused quite a number of casualties in our company, so this raid was made with the object of finding and destroying it. Davis begged very hard to be allowed to go with a patrol party that was being sent out, so the company commander gave his assent.

That night Davis was out in No Man's Land on patrol duty, the patrol consisting of four men under one N.C.O. Later on the patrol came back without having seen anything of the enemy in No Man's Land, but Private Davis was reported missing by the sergeant. About an hour after the return of the patrol, one of the officers who was on duty at the time was called by a sentry who had heard the whistle that had been pre-arranged for the patrol party's signal as they approached our barbed-wire entanglements.

There in front of our wire were several Germans, with their hands up. All the boys on the fire step had their rifles to their shoulders in an instant. Then we heard a shout, "I have got six Heinies, don't shoot."

It was Davis. I got out of the trench and showed the way through the barbed wire to the Huns, who looked scared to death. There was Davis behind the Boches, with a Mills bomb and pistol in his hands.

He told me that he had got lost. He had then prowled around and surprised this machine-gun squad, who were outside a concrete machine gun emplacement.

I asked Davis how he had managed to capture these men and he told me it was quite easy. "I just put the fear of God into them with my Mills bomb and made them walk in front of me." As he could speak a little German, he told them that at the least noise they made he would blow them to pieces. After that it was a cinch, as he expressed himself.

Davis was very much surprised when he was recommended and received the Distinguished Conduct Medal for this good piece of work. His one regret seemed to be that he was unable to place the machine gun _hors de combat_. He declared that the reason for this was that his prisoners were not gentlemen, and he, therefore, could not trust them to stand quietly by while he was destroying one of the Kaiser's machine guns.

Many people have had things to say of the French Canadians in Canada and their reasons for not having enlisted more freely. I wish to set down what I observed of the 22nd French Canadian Battalion, which is the only complete French Canadian battalion at the front, although there are quite a number of French Canadians mixed among the English-speaking battalions.

The 22nd French Canadian Battalion was absolutely fearless, coming second to none for their bravery. A few days after the Canadians had captured Vimy Ridge, the 22nd Battalion was detailed to take up its position in the front line of our brigade frontage, my battalion being in support at that time. Both of these trenches had been captured from the Germans. The 22nd battalion sector of the line at that particular time was named the "Observation Trench." It ran in a serpentine manner down the eastern slope of the Ridge. The Ridge at this point dropped abruptly, and the trench was dug through chalk. The Germans must have worked very hard to dig it. Along the sides were quite a number of very deep dugouts. At about 7:30 P.M., just as it was commencing to get dark, we saw on the crest of the Ridge the 22nd ahead of us. The Huns were at that time about one mile away. Their artillery was still further back, yet with their powerful glasses they could see very well, and they must have seen the 22nd, because there immediately began a rain of shrapnel over them as they were going down the slope of the Ridge in single file. It took some time for the last of the boys to get under cover.

We could not help but admire them as they moved along, as cool as if on parade. None of them showed the least sign of fear or nervousness, although shells were dropping and bursting all around them. It was with a sigh of relief that we saw the last man go over the crest and get under cover of the trench. We were always sure of the 22nd's doing the right thing at the right time.

Another time they were occupying a sector of the front line not far from Loos. An English battalion, which had previously occupied this sector of the line, informed us that there was a rumour to the effect that a part of the trench we were occupying had been mined by the Germans. This information was far from pleasant, as one does not relish the idea of being blown skywards. The relieving troops are given all useful information concerning enemy movements, etc., hence this mine story.

As we were "standing to" about an hour before dawn we heard a hissing sound, then a roar, and the earth seemed to tremble. All at once the ground opened and earth and debris of all descriptions went flying through the air. The Huns had exploded the mine, but, fortunately for us, they had miscalculated the distance. About one minute after, a barrage was laid by the Germans on our support lines. They had evidently thought that they had blown up our front line sector and us along with it.

The mine had actually exploded a few yards in front of the 22nd French Canadian Battalion. The Huns followed on some distance back of their barrage and advanced in columns of fours to the sector occupied by the French Canadians. The leading sections of the Germans were protected by armour plate over their bodies. As they advanced they were firing their rifles from their hips. The French Canadians stood fast, and at once began a rapid machine-gun and rifle fire, which caused the Huns to retire at a terrible cost. Our barrage also had begun to play, both on their artillery and the advancing troops.

Great praise is due the 22nd Battalion for the manner in which they withstood the Huns. I wish we had in France more French Canadian troops from the Province of Quebec of the same calibre. Their officers are absolutely fearless, and they have one of the highest records of efficiency, which can be judged by the distinction conferred on them. They were commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Tremblay, D.S.O. and Legion of Honour. Some of the senior officers were Major Debuc, Major Chasse, Major John Roy. All of the foregoing have been decorated by the King with the D.S.O. and Military Cross, and by the French Army with the Legion of Honour. Major John Roy, during the attack on Lens, August 15th, 1917, was in charge of a company when all his junior officers were either killed or wounded. He, with a mere handful of men, held a sector of the front line under a heavy bombardment from the Boche, which continued for two days and nights. I was in the same attack, and in one day alone we repulsed four counter-attacks.

On my return to Canada I was surprised at the people that do not seem to realise how much the 22nd Battalion is thought of by the fighting men in France. Any child who has a father, any mother who has a son, or any person who has a relative in the 22nd French Canadian Battalion should be very proud of it.

The French Canadian is patriotic without doubt. But they are so very clannish on account of their language, many being unable to speak English, that, when volunteers were called for by Canada, their proportion of enlistment was small in comparison with the English-speaking Canadian. A few leaders who could talk well started a propaganda against enlistment, probably for their own personal reasons. These leaders quickly had a great number of followers. But, my personal opinion is, that the war situation had not been presented to the majority of the French Canadians ere these propagandists got in their villainous work.

One night, as we were "standing to" in the front line, the usual whistle of the shells as they passed above us could be plainly heard. I noticed a soldier advancing along my left flank. As he reached the place where I was standing on the fire step I recognised him as Private Wagner.

He was about to pass me. I stopped and asked him where he was going. His reply was, "Sir, I am going over to the right to get my entrenching tool. I left it in a funk hole this afternoon and came away and forgot it." He then saluted and smiled as he was doing so. Somehow or other I did not like the way he smiled. But I had no reason to doubt his words. Although it was strictly against orders to allow anyone to leave the fire step at "stand to," Wagner was personally known to me, so I let him go.

My mind went back to the time I first met him, five years ago. We were both living at the same hotel in Montreal. Wagner was supposed to be an Englishman, and at that time he was a draughtsman in the employ of a large bridge company. It was said that he was one of the finest draughtsmen in Canada on bridge construction work, and he appeared to have a thorough knowledge of the whole of the country, as he had worked for various companies throughout Canada. Wagner mixed with the best of society in Montreal, but it was remarked that before the war his best friends appeared to be connected with the Hamburg-American Steamship Line. When war was declared he was the first man to disclaim any friendship existing between himself and anyone with a German name. No one appeared to hate the Germans more than he did, neither was there anyone more keen to enlist. But the medical examinations at the early stages of the war were so strict that he was rejected by the medical boards.

Wagner and I were often seated together at the same table, and, as he had travelled extensively, he was a very interesting and entertaining man, so we became very friendly.

Later on, when I received my commission he seemed to profess more friendship for me than ever before. His knowledge of military engineering and signalling interested me very much. He was also a clever linguist, speaking several languages fluently.

Being on leave one week-end from camp, I went into the dining-room of my hotel in Montreal to take lunch; and who should I see but Wagner. He was seated at the table in the same old place. I noticed he was in uniform. As I entered the dining-room he rose from his seat. I told him to sit down. He then told me he had just been passed by the medical board, as the soldiers' standard had been lowered. He appeared to be very pleased at having got through, and he said he hoped that it would not be long until he would be with the boys "Over There."

Just then a lady came into the dining-room. She was a German whom we both knew, married to a Canadian. As she passed us to get to her dining table, he said to me, "How I hate those Germans! The authorities ought to intern them all. If I had my way I would shoot them all, as I would any enemy of ours." He put great emphasis on the word "ours" and his eyes glared malevolently. Although I attached no importance to this little incident at that time, it now came back to my memory. Wagner quickly recovered from his ugly mood and asked me when I thought some of the troops would be sailing. I told him I did not know as we were not given any information with regard to the sailing of our troops. After this I lost track of Wagner until I arrived at my reserve battalion in England.

One day I happened to be going to the battalion orderly room, and who should be on sentry duty, much to my surprise, but Wagner. He saluted me. I returned his salute. After saying a few formal words, I passed into the orderly room. The adjutant said to me, during the course of our conversation, that he had a man whom he would like to promote for the time he would be at the training depot. I asked him the man's name and he told me it was Wagner. I then informed the adjutant that I had known Wagner for some years in Montreal and that in my opinion he would be a well-qualified man to make a non-commissioned officer.

That night about nine o'clock there was a knock at my hut door. I opened it and saw a sergeant with a man. The sergeant said, "Sir, Private Wagner would like to speak to you." I told the sergeant that he could go and that I would speak to Private Wagner alone. Wagner informed me that he was, to use the slang expression, "fed up" with camp life and that he wanted to get over to France with the first draft. He begged of me to see that his name was placed on the list. This I did for him and later on he left the reserve battalion two months before I reached France.

When I reached my fighting unit in France I was very much surprised to see Wagner working in the battalion orderly room. He seemed surprised and also pleased to meet me, and asked me if I would have him transferred to my platoon, which I did.

He told me if at any time I had to draw a cross section of a map, which is often done by us when we intend attacking a German position, he would be pleased to do it for me. Although I knew he could make an excellent sketch, I thought it would not be a wise thing to allow any of the men under me to know too much of our plans in case they should be taken prisoners by the Germans.

As I pondered over the past history of what I knew of this man, it all came vividly back to my mind. His smile as he saluted and passed along to the right to get his entrenching tool and the manner that he had said "enemy of ours" in the dining-room in Montreal. Suddenly on our right flank the Germans began to send up some red rockets and then a few golden sprays. Word was passed along to send up our S.O.S. I asked who had sent the message. The man to my right said he did not know. I then jumped out of the trench and walked along the parados. I found that five men from my right had received this message and the sixth man was Wagner, and the man next to him did not know anything about it. We act quickly at the front; we take no chances. I interrogated Wagner, but he disclaimed any knowledge of the message.

I was not satisfied with this answer. Although I had known him so long, the various little incidents which had transpired during our association now firmly convinced me that he was a German. I immediately placed him under arrest with a strong guard over him, although I may say that I felt like killing him on the spot.

If we had sent up our S.O.S. signal our artillery would have placed an intense bombardment on the German trenches along our sector of the line. While our artillery were busy shelling in this locality, the Germans would have attacked another point, where they would have encountered less opposition of artillery and in all probability broken through our line. It was a well-arranged scheme; but it failed, thank God.

As soon as we stood down I had Wagner brought to my company commander. I made out a written report, detailing the whole circumstances of the affair. Wagner was searched and in the heel of a boot that he was wearing was found some very thin tissue paper, neatly folded. It did not appear to have any writing on it, but as we laid the paper on a small box in the company headquarters dugout, a candle was burning brightly, so we held it close to the light. We could make out a drawing of our trench. Apparently invisible ink had been used. As we continued to hold the paper before the candle, German writing gradually came to view.

Judging from the expression on Wagner's face you would not have thought that his life was at stake. He appeared to be quite resigned to the fate that awaited him.

It is customary for the army to have carrier pigeons. The pigeons are kept at certain points some distance in the back area of the trenches, where they are kept in large cotes until required by any particular unit. It sometimes happens that a company commander may require two pigeons to take with him into the trenches in order to send messages back to the rear. The message is fastened to the leg of the pigeon, and when the pigeon arrives at the cotes the message is taken off its leg and handed over to the signallers, who transmit the message to the proper authorities by wire or motor despatch riders.

One man was allotted to carry the pigeons in a small wooden box. This man was always Wagner. He professed to love birds and had taken a course to train pigeons. Whenever our battalion was out at rest, if in a town, Wagner was sure to be away after drill hours. Seldom was he seen at the Y.M.C.A., nor did he ever appear to write any letters. We discovered that he had confederates in some of these little villages where he procured German pigeons, and, no doubt, by some means he exchanged these pigeons and sent important messages occasionally to the enemy.

No doubt Wagner had warned the Huns when they were massing in the sunken road that we were aware of it and were prepared to surprise them.

Wagner was sent out of the line under escort. As he passed me he gave a very malevolent stare. He was duly shot at sunrise. Another crafty Hun paid the penalty of his treachery.