Part 3

We were, for some unknown reason, held five days in Plymouth Harbor before disembarking, and then they hustled us off to the training camp on Salisbury Plains where we had a miserable existence until February, 1915.

At Salisbury we drilled in mud and water that was at times waist deep, caused by the continuous rains and floods. It sure was fine training for the Flanders mud that we were to encounter later. The storms were so severe at times that tents and their contents were washed away.

As a result an epidemic of spinal meningitis hit the camp, and of the 33,000 who arrived at Salisbury 4,400 were stricken with this disease, only a few of whom recovered.

While at Salisbury I was granted my first leave and started for London, together with my pal, a boy named Frazer, who also had leave. We had three days' absence from camp coming to us and they were "some three days."

We arrived in London at 5.15 P.M. and, in accord with English custom, had tea at once in the Corner House, Piccadilly, where many soldiers congregated.

At the Corner House we received sixty-one invitations to the theater and dinner for the next day. That night we attended the Princess Theater where, as we entered, the orchestra played the Canadian anthem, "The Maple Leaf Forever." The audience cheered and we were forced to make a speech. You see, we were the first Canadians the English people had seen who had come to do their bit. That night I lost track of Frazer.

After three wonderful days I returned to camp as my leave had expired. Frazer was not on the train with me, and as a matter of fact did not arrive until twenty-four hours later. He was called before the colonel for overstaying his leave, and, on being questioned, told the colonel that just as he arrived at the railroad station a band started playing "God Save the King" and he had to stand at attention so long that he missed the train.

He was excused and returned to duty, but they do say there was a suspicious twinkle in the colonel's eye as he dismissed him. I sometimes wish I had Frazer's powers of quick invention.

On February 3rd we left Salisbury encampment, en route for France, landing at St. Lazarre, thence by train to Hazebrouck and St. Omer where the fever laid me up in the hospital for about ten days.

I joined the battalion again at Armentieres where we remained a few days and then went forward to Ypres. On April 22, 1915, we went into battle at Ypres and for the first time in history were called upon to meet a gas attack by the Germans.

Editor's Note.--This was the first time this inhuman method of warfare was used by a supposedly civilized nation.

H. L. F.

At first we thought the gas we saw coming toward us was a bank of fog and it gave us no anxiety. It was at 4.30 P.M. that the Huns turned the gas on us, and I was fortunate to be in the first battalion at a point where the gas was not so thick. The thickest part of the gas swept over the 8th, 10th, 11th, 13th, 14th, 15th and 16th battalions. Eighty-five per cent of the men who met this attack were more or less severely gassed. At points the gas was so severe that it turned the brass buttons, on the tunics of the men, green. Some of the men killed by gas fell, but some remained standing even in death so swift was its action.

Our artillery, although short of ammunition, was our main support in this action. Had the Germans forced a passage here, the roads to Paris, Calais and the English coast would have been virtually open. There were 72,000 Germans opposed to 13,000 Canadian infantry in this action, but the boys from Canada held fast.

The next day, April 23rd, a small fragment of shrapnel in my right hand sent me to the hospital in Boulogne. Fine treatment by the American doctors and nurses there soon had me in shape again and I was returned to the line through the Canadian base at Le Havre. Thence I went through Festubert to Givenchy where the old 1st Battalion went into battle with 919 men and six hours later over 600 had made the great sacrifice. Minor casualties left us only 137 men able to answer roll call and several of these had to go to the hospital on account of wounds received here.

The first week of July we went to Ploegstreet which we called "home" for a long time. We called Ploegstreet "home" because it was so peaceful. (The Germans dared not shell us as we were so close to their trenches that they were afraid of hitting their own men.) The shell craters through which our trenches ran were only thirteen yards from the trenches of the enemy, and we could hear the Saxons who opposed us singing songs in English which they all seemed to speak fluently.

One night I was on patrol when our party passed German patrol not five yards distant. Neither side dared fire for fear of starting the machine gun fire. One of the Saxons called out, "Hello, Canuck, how's Quebec, Winnipeg and Vancouver?"

Evidently he had been in Quebec as he spoke of the St. Regis Hotel.

At Ploegstreet the British had started a "sap" forty-eight feet deep where a tunnel, with twenty-five galleries running off from it, undermined the town. It took two years to build and was planted with one hundred thousand tons of high explosive dynamite. When it was exploded it blew up the entire town and also blew 61,000 Huns "Hell, west and crooked."

This was the only way to take the position as the elaborate trench system of the Germans was practically impregnable. It was at Ploegstreet that the Huns "got our goat" by showing the wearing apparel of Belgian girls on the points of their bayonets.

After exploding the mine we explored the German trenches and found most wonderful underground living quarters for the troops fitted with every modern convenience.

We remained here three and a half months and then were moved to Kemmel to the C-4 trenches, where we spent the winter. Here I was taken sick and sent to the hospital at Bailleu, and returned to duty again at Cambrai, and thence went to St. Quentin.

Remained at St. Quentin until September 17th, when I had a piece of shrapnel lodge in my arm and was burned by a shell while trying to dig out a comrade in a similar predicament, except that he died before we got him out. I was buried, but conscious, for four hours and twenty minutes, and I thought of every event of my life in that time. When finally rescued, the fresh air and reaction were too much for me, and I lost consciousness, which I did not regain until I was in England in the Duchess of Connaught's Hospital. I had been sent there by way of Le Havre and remained six months in bed in a plaster cast. I was then returned to a hospital ship and taken to St. John, New Brunswick, where I received electrical and massage treatment. From St. John I went to the convalescent hospital at Fredericton, N. B., and was discharged on August 19, 1918.

A NIGHT ADVENTURE

AS TOLD BY PRIVATE ALBERT FRANKLIN EDWARDS, NO. 6857, 1ST BATTALION, 1ST BRIGADE, 1ST DIVISION, CANADIAN INFANTRY

ONE night in October, 1915, while on patrol, I found an officer, and a private, of the Prussian Guard, fooling around our wire entanglements. They had evidently been under our fire as the officer was suffering from three abdominal wounds and died as I was trying to drag him into our lines.

The private was a big fellow about six feet three inches tall and was furious at being captured. As I had him at my bayonet's point he gave me no trouble, but when we arrived at our lines he took it out on the sentry by spitting at him and slapping him in the face.

We sat Mr. Prussian on the firing step and told him a few things that would not look well in this book, and he finally spoke in English, when we called the escort to get what information we could from him. He asked after some friends he had made at Columbia College, New York City, where he had been educated. He told us that just before the war broke out he had been called back to Germany, supposedly to attend a military fête, as he was still subject to military service. He had no idea, he said, that he was going to be sent to war and he had been drugged and sent into battle, forced on by officers in the rear. After we had "pumped him dry" he was handed over, together with fourteen other prisoners, who were taken the same night, and sent to the cage, four miles to the rear. On the way to the cage he complained to a soldier, in the guard accompanying the prisoners, of the difficulty of marching through the mud, which was very deep. The guard told him he should be thankful that he was not in his (the guard's) place, as he had to walk back again.

I should have stated before that I cut off the buttons from the officer's uniform when he died and kept them together with his field glasses as souvenirs. I have them still as no one has claimed them.

A MACHINE GUNNER'S STORY

BY MACHINE GUNNER GEORGE ECKHART, NO. 165688, 1ST M. G. BATT., 1ST DIV., A.E.F.

I ENLISTED in the service of my country April 6, 1917, when we declared war on Germany. I was sent to Fort Douglas, Arizona, in the same month, put in the 18th Infantry, Regular Army.

On June 4, 1917, we got orders to pack up and leave for another camp, and one night when our train came to a halt I got up from bed and said to the boys:

"Boys, we are in Hoboken," and we all knew then where we were going.

We got on the transports the same night about eleven o'clock. There were a lot of sad faces watching their dear boys going "Over There" to fight to make the world safe for Democracy.

We sailed away from dear old America, June 14, 1917. When we passed the Statue of Liberty we watched her holding the light of freedom and strained our eyes as our transport moved out into the ocean for a last look at her, wondering if we would ever see that dear old Statue of Liberty again.

We had a pleasant, fourteen-day trip across the ocean. And one bright morning we saw land. All the boys shouted "France, we have come to you." Four hours later we were beside our dock, and got off the boats. All the French people kissed us and were glad to see America come to help her sister republic.

The French people shouted "Vive la America." We shouted back "Vive la France." We had a big reception and the peasants took us around and showed us the villages.

We did not stay there long, but moved toward the front where we could hear the thundering of the artillery barrages. We had two months of strenuous training with the French Blue Devils.

After completing our training period we got orders that we were going to go to the Front. One day, before we left to undertake the biggest job in the world, our general (General Bullard) held an inspection, and gave us a talk.

He said, "Boys, you are going to tackle a real job tomorrow, and show the Huns what kind of stuff the Yanks are made of."

All of the boys yelled, "We are with you, general, until the end. We are going to give them hell! and, we won't go back until it's over, over here."

The next day we were ready to move to the Front. The colonel gave the command, and we marched off. We had to walk fifty miles.

As we came nearer and nearer to the front, the guns were roaring and machine guns rattled away like fire. The first division, consisting of the 18th Infantry, 26th Infantry, 16th and 18th Infantry, started to sing, "Hail, Hail, the Gang's All Here!" At last we arrived at the Front. Our French comrades hailed us, and were surprised and overjoyed to see the Yanks coming to relieve them and give them a rest.

Company after company moved in and relieved the French division and as they moved out they bid us all the luck in the world.

This front was the Lorraine front, Luneville Sector. The next day, October 14, 1917, our artillery fired the first shells into the German trenches.

The Germans got kind of restless and wondered who was facing them. They sent out a patrolling party to gather information. But we boys were a little too wise and our patrol party captured this German party and brought them in. When they came in our trenches they asked us who we were. I spoke up and said, "We are Americans," and the German officer who spoke a little English said, "No! No! you are not an American. You are English in American uniforms." But they soon found out that we _were_ Americans and we did "treat 'em rough!"

I was now transferred to a machine gun company and was on duty one night about 11.30. It was very cold. My loader Frank Martin and I were talking quietly about our dear homes across the sea. Suddenly the German machine guns opened up and we ducked down in our own gun emplacement and could hear the bullets hissing over our heads. Then it was silent again. We knew the Huns were getting restless so our signal captain sent up a "very light" which lights up No Man's Land. And we saw about 5,000 Prussian guards coming at us with bayonets fixed. I held fast to my trigger, waiting for orders.

The lieutenant came to me and said, "George, don't get nervous. We are going to get them in a trap." And I said:

"Lieutenant, do you think I will ever see the Statue of Liberty again?"

He said, "Cheer up, George, I will send the order soon."

So they fired another "very light" and there they were 100 yards from where I was stationed. All was quiet. We kept still as mice.

Then suddenly a big red rocket went up which called for an artillery barrage and I heard the shells of our artillery firing behind the Germans so they could not go back to their own lines. This was followed by two red rockets, meaning direct fire from our own machine guns. And then I yelled, "Here's where the suicide club shines," and opened up.

We gave them all the "presents" they wanted. My machine gun was red hot, and my hands were burning, but I didn't mind that. We were going to get them and give them what they deserved.

We gave them "sweeping fire" and mowed them down like grass. Daylight came and there were the Prussian Guards in big piles, dead and wounded. We certainly did catch them in a trap.

That morning I went into the dugout and we boys sat around on bundles of straw and sang some songs and told stories and jokes.

When the mail man would come around with the letters from home, we would gather around him and listen for our names to be called.

The boys that got letters from their dear mothers had smiles on their faces and were happy, knowing their mothers were thinking of them. And those that didn't get letters were sad and disgusted and would have tears rolling down their cheeks.

We stayed on that front two months. Christmas was on its way, and we went back for a rest. At Christmas time all the boys gave ten francs (two dollars, U. S. money) to give the little children of France a real American Christmas.

After six days of preparation, we went to the Salvation Army hut and had a big entertainment. Elsie Janis was the chief entertainer. After the entertainment was over we all returned to bed.

The next day the church bells rang out and the little children ran about wild with joy. The Yankee soldiers gave the children candy, cakes, pies and other little presents and they could not get over it, as they never had a Christmas like that before.

Editor's Note.--The simple pathos of this story so appealed to me, that, knowing no words of mine could so vividly depict the feelings of this hero, I have given it to the readers of the book without revision. I simply desire to add that the action which he describes in the above story was the first of the Great War participated in by American Troops.

H. L. F.

THE FALL OF CANTIGNY

BY MACHINE GUNNER GEORGE ECKHART

BEFORE proceeding with my second story, I wish to state that Cantigny Village was the first town ever captured by the American troops in this war, and also the first battle we ever had. My division, the "First," known all over France as the "Black Jack" Division, was named after General "Black Jack" Pershing.

After leaving Lorraine front and spending Christmas behind the lines, we were ordered to a more active front in Picardy, where some of the biggest battles have taken place during this Great War.

We relieved the 2nd French Colonial Division and took over their sector. We faced the town Cantigny, which is situated twenty miles northwest of Montdidier.

This town was hard to take, as there were two Prussian Guard divisions against one Yankee division.

Our general said, "Boys, we are going to take that town and we will take it inside of seventy-two hours." Us boys all felt proud and were ready to go "Over the Top" any time the order came.

Jimmy Doyle, the loader on my machine gun, was the youngest boy in the battalion, and he was kind of nervous when he knew we were going "Over the Top" in seventy-two hours. He sat down in the dugout, writing a letter to his dear mother, with the shells and shrapnel going over our heads. He expected a letter from his mother for three months but never received it.

So Little Jimmie put in his letter, "Mother, I am writing you this letter and it may be the last as I am going 'Over the Top' for the first time, and I am going to do my bit even if I am only seventeen years old. I wrote you ten letters and you have not written me one, so mother, dear, please write your little Jimmie a letter. Good Bye and God bless you. Jimmie."

The seventy-two hours had come and it was growing dark. We had extra ammunition stacked beside our machine gun, ready to open fire on the Huns. "Little Jimmie" worked hard stacking up the ammunition. The infantry was "standing to" waiting for the word.

Everything was quiet. We had five minutes to think of our people back home. "Little Jimmie" said to me:

"George, you were one of my best friends. I am a kid, but if I get killed, tell my mother I died for her and the Stars and Stripes."

The time had come and the French tanks had started their engines. The red rocket went up. Our artillery laid down their barrage and we opened rapid fire with our machine guns. "Little Jimmie" was feeding the gun like a veteran.

Shells were whistling all around us. The captains of all infantry companies yelled, "Over the Top with the best of luck and give them Hell. Up and at 'em, boys!"

And when they went over the boys yelled and cheered, rushing onward to the Hun trenches, "Remember the _Lusitania_," "Remember the _Antilles_," "Remember the U. S.," "Remember dear President Wilson and the Stars and Stripes."

They kept on gaining, facing death and danger. We followed them up with our machine guns. The Huns started with their artillery. They thought they could stop us but they couldn't. We always had our fighting spirit with us.

The German Prussian Guards came over to meet us. Our infantry went at 'em, facing them. Some yelled, "Kamerad," but that didn't go with us. We gave them the cold steel instead. We had 500 yards to go to before we could take Cantigny. "Little Jimmie" Doyle was working hard at the gun and he would say, "I wonder if my mother is thinking of me." We kept moving our gun and giving them all they wanted. All of a sudden "Little Jimmie" fell with a Hun machine gun bullet through his head. The blood was pouring down his cheek. I went to him, gave him my first aid packet with bandages, put it around his head,--but in vain. He was taking his last breath. He said:

"George, good bye, I knew this was my day."

He wanted to say a few more words, but could not. He lay still without breathing. He was dead, and he died with a smile on his lips. The poor lad was always happy and had a smile for whoever he met. "Little Jimmie" died for his country and died like a man.

After taking Jimmie away I ran back to my machine gun. The Prussians were coming over, driving back the infantry. They overpowered us but the machine gunners all said: "We are going to hold this line until the infantry gets reinforcements." We eight machine gunners were checking the Germans finally. Now and then we stopped firing. Then the Huns would rush at us, thinking that they had killed us, but we were very much alive and as soon as they advanced a hundred yards or so, we would open up our machine guns again and give 'em Hell. Four of the machine gunners were killed and it was up to the remaining four to hold them back until the infantry came.

Our ammunition was getting low and I was shot through my leg by a high explosive shrapnel, but I kept on with my machine gun until our infantry came up with the reinforcements, and went over with a yell and chased the Huns back and captured Cantigny. We got that town in two and a half hours.

My leg was bleeding and I had an awful pain but I stuck to it. We went into the Hun trenches, which we had captured, and there I was treated by the Red Cross dressing station and then we went in and brought out the German prisoners who were hiding in the dugouts and cellars of the town.

Then the Germans, who were driven back to their reserve trenches, wanted to get square on us, and fired over the poisonous gas. We got the signal and put our masks on, and kept them on for seventy-two hours. Mine was an old mask and it began to leak, until suddenly I fell, and was unconscious for twenty-four hours. When I awoke I was in the hospital, in a nice white bed such as I had not been in for ten months. Oh! didn't I sleep. They couldn't get me up for anything.

I was nursed back to health, and, when I went back to the front, they had a great surprise for me. I was summoned to General Headquarters and there I was awarded the French war cross, or "Croix de Guerre," for heroism during the battle of Cantigny. We all sang the song of songs, "Over There," by the Yankee Doodle Boy, George M. Cohan. We used this song all the time when we would march into battle, and sang it again when we came out victorious.

Then I was sent home to dear America and my people were more than pleased to see me march in a hero from "Over There."

Then they had me talking for the Knights of Columbus drive, Liberty Loan, also the United War Work Campaign. The American people may well be proud when their sons and sweethearts come marching home victorious,--as they all fought well to make the world safe and a decent place to live in.

THE RETREAT FROM MONS

BY SERGT. T. S. GRUNDY