One day I went down the trench which led into Fampoux. Whizzbangs were falling every now and then, so the men were keeping low. At one place there was a good view of the German lines. An officer and a sergeant stood there looking through their glasses and pointed out to me a spot in the hillside opposite where we could see a number of the enemy. They came out of one trench, crossed the road, and went down into another. The officer told me that he had counted over a hundred that day. I asked him why he did not telephone to Battalion Headquarters to inform the artillery. He told me he had no telephone. Then I said, "Why don't you send a runner?" He explained that Fampoux was occupied as an outpost, and that no runners were allowed to be sent from there during the daytime; orders to this effect being very strict. "I am not a runner," I said, "and I am not in your Battalion. If you will give me the map-location of the place where you think the Germans are (p. 250) congregating, I will take it back with me to the liaison officer at Battalion Headquarters." He was very pleased with my offer, because at this time we were daily expecting a big attack upon our lines. To get back we had to crawl down a steep place in the trench, which was in view of the Germans, until at last we reached the cellar of a ruined house which the O.C. of the company used as a billet. He got out his maps and gave me the exact location of the road and trenches where the Germans had been seen to pass, and where apparently they were massing. I got him to write down the map-location carefully on a piece of paper, and then, armed with this and feeling very important, I started back, this time avoiding the trench and going up the Fampoux road on the side of which there was some torn and broken camouflage. I came across a steel helmet by the wayside with part of a man's head in it, and the road had been pretty well battered by shells, but I felt exceedingly proud at being able to do something which might possibly avert an attack upon our men. I went on till at last I saw in the hillside the beginning of a trench, and made my way up this to Pudding lane and found Battalion Headquarters. The Artillery officer had been having a quiet time and was delighted at the prospect of ordering a "shoot." At once he telephoned back to the brigade, and not long after, when the quiet sun was setting in the West, a most terrific bombardment of artillery, both field and heavy, smashed the German trenches on the hill opposite. The headquarters men and I looked over the valley and saw the line of bursting shells. Much to their amusement, I told them that this was my music, that I had ordered the shoot. I felt like the fly on the axle of a cart, who said to his companion fly, "Look at the dust we are making."

On another occasion, I was filled with almost equal pride, when, meeting on the roadside a company of men who were going into the trenches for the first time and were waiting for a guide, I offered my services and actually led the company of young heroes into the trenches myself. The humour of the situation was so palpable that the men felt as if they were going to a picnic.

The trenches on the Feuchy side of the Scarpe were well made, and led up to the higher ground to the east of Arras, where they joined the lines of a Scots Division. At one point we saw in No Man's Land a lonely tent, which I was told had been occupied by a British chaplain before we had been driven back. I paid a most enjoyable visit to (p. 251) the engineers in Arras and stayed at Battalion Headquarters. They were in a large and comfortable house in the Place St. Croix. In the dining room we had a grate fire, a rug on the floor, and several easy chairs. A most sumptuous dinner was served, and one could scarcely believe that we were in a war.

The men of the battalion were billeted in the deep cellars under a row of houses at the end of the Grande Place. Some of these houses dated back to the time of the Spanish occupation, so the cellars must have been very ancient. They were vaulted in stone and were connected together by passages, so they were not only quite safe from shells but were exceedingly interesting and picturesque. We had several services for the men and one for a field ambulance which made its home in the Deaf and Dumb Asylum. In a large room in the Asylum there was a good piano, so it enabled us to use the place at one time as a church and at another as a ballroom. There was a strange charm about dear old Arras which is quite indescribable. In spite of the ruined buildings and the damaged grass-grown streets, there was the haunting beauty of a quiet medievalism about the city. The narrow streets, the pleasant gardens hidden behind the houses, spoke of an age that had passed. Arras has been the centre of interest in many wars, and Julius Caesar made his headquarters there in B.C. 65. The river Scarpe has carried to the sea many memories of hostile hosts that have fought along its banks. To walk back from the dressing station in the small hours of the morning, when the moon was shining on the silent and half-ruined streets and squares, was a weird experience. Surely, if ghosts ever haunt the scenes of their earthly life, I must have had many unseen companions with me on such occasions. There were still two or three shops in the place where souvenirs and other small articles were sold to the men, and there were hoards of champagne and other wines in some of the cellars, but only a few of the inhabitants remained and they lived hidden lives in the underground retreats.

Our Division, however, was soon moved from Etrun to Chateau d'Acq, where I arrived at four one morning after a visit to the trenches. I found my billet in an Armstrong hut. The people who had occupied the Chateau since we were there must have experienced an air raid, because extraordinary precautions had been taken to guard against bombs. I lit my lamp and found that the bed was surrounded on all sides by a (p. 252) wall composed of two thicknesses of sandbags. When I got down Into it I felt as if I were in a grave. In the morning I got my batman to remove the fortification, as I thought there was no occasion to anticipate the sensations of being buried. However, at night I often heard German aeroplanes overhead, and it was a relief when their intermittent buzzing died off into the distance.

We were now a long way from the front line, but by jumping lorries I was still able to go forward and visit the slums. On returning from such a visit one afternoon I suffered a great loss. The order had gone out some time before that all stray dogs were to be shot, and many poor little four-footed souls were sent into whatever happy land is reserved for the race which has been the earliest and best friend of man. I had kept a sharp lookout on Alberta, but I never dreamt that anyone would shoot her. However, that evening while I was getting ready to go off to Ecoivres, and Alberta was playing in front of my hut, the sergeant of the police, carried her off, unknown to me, and ordered a man to shoot her. When I came out from my hut, and whistled for my faithful friend, I was told that she had been condemned to death. I could hardly believe it; but to my dismay I found that it was only too true, and the poor little dog, who was known all over the Division and had paid many visits to the trenches, was not only shot but buried. Filled with righteous anger, I had the body disinterred and a proper grave dug for it in front of a high tree which stands on a hill at the back of the grounds. There, surrounded by stones, is the turf-covered mound, and on the tree is nailed a white board with this epitaph neatly painted in black:—

HERE LIES ALBERTA of Albert Shot April 24th, 1918.

The dog that by a cruel end Now sleeps beneath this tree, Was just the little dog and friend God wanted her to be.

Alberta, much respected in life, was honoured in death, for nearly all the men at Headquarters were present when she was buried, and one of them told me that at a word from me they would lay out the police. (p. 253) I should have liked to have given the word, but I told them that we had a war on with the Germans, and that we had better not start another till it was finished. On the following day the board with the epitaph was placed in position in the presence of a Brigadier-General and our kind-hearted and sympathetic C.R.E. I was so filled with indignation at the loss of my companion, who, wherever I tied up Dandy, would always mount guard over him and allow no one to approach him, that I determined to seek a billet away from Headquarters, and near the front. However, this intention was frustrated a day or two later by an order which came through for our Division to go into rest at a place called Le Cauroy, not far from the town of Frevent, and about 15 kilometres to the southwest of Chateau d'Acq.



CHAPTER XXVIII. (p. 254)

SPORTS AND PASTIMES.

May and June, 1918.

It was late in the evening when I reached the Chateau at Le Cauroy, and I found that I was to be billeted in the house of the Cure, on one side of the fine avenue of lime trees. Ross was waiting for me and took the horse, and I went inside to my room. A curious sensation came over me of having seen the place before. It seemed as if I had been there in one of my dreams, but the mystery was cleared up on the following day by my finding out from the Vicaire that this was the place where I had spent such a gloomy Sunday on the 22nd of October, 1916, during our return from the Somme. The count who owned the Chateau was naval attache to the French Embassy in London, but his wife and children, with the servants, occupied apartments on the right wing of the building. The presence of a lady gave a special charm to the place, and tennis on a good court under the trees in the park was most enjoyable. On several occasions some of our Canadian Sisters from the C.C.S. at Frevent honoured us with their presence at dinner, which was followed by a dance. Under the trees in the avenue, a most picturesque open theatre was erected by the engineers, and here our concert party gave us nightly performances of their new play, which was called "The Marriage Market." Hundreds of men from the battalions around would sit on the soft grass under the overhanging trees through which we could see the stars, and on the brightly lighted stage, with the orchestra in front, we had an exhibition of real talent. The weather was delightful and the men enjoyed a holiday in the country. At a little distance behind the Chateau there was a clear stream blocked by an ancient mill-dam. Here we could get a swim and bask in the sun in the long cool grass. Altogether we were very happy at Le Cauroy.

A great change had come over the war at this time, for Foch had assumed the supreme command. While we had had excellent leaders all through the campaign, one always felt that there was a need for some electrifying personality at the head of things. In a mysterious (p. 255) way the knowledge that Foch had taken the conduct of the war in hand gave us just that touch of magnetism which we needed. As matters stood, the German attacks had been successful up to a certain point, but we were still waiting for their main offensive. When or where this was to begin we did not know, but we were convinced that it would be, for us, a life or death struggle. The fact that Foch was in command and that he was keeping his head gave us confidence. He seemed like a surgeon who shows his greatness by the very coolness with which he performs some critical operation. The men were always asking if we were losing the war, and I always told them that it was like this—the Germans were advancing and losing and we were retreating and winning. We practised daily the art of open warfare for which the country round us offered splendid opportunities. We knew that we had been taken out of the line in order to prepare to become "shock troops", and the knowledge of this gave our life a great inspiration.

It was the right policy, in view of what was before us, to give the men all the amusement possible, so football and baseball were indulged in freely by officers and men. We were too well trained now to worry much about the future. In fact, although I had often preached on the text, "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof," I never fully acted upon the principle until I had been in the war for three years. It is certainly the true secret of happiness and I hope that the softer life of peace time will not rob one of it. When Mrs. Carlyle was asked what caused her most suffering in life, she replied, "The things which never happened," It would have surprised the people at home if they could have seen the cheeriness and lightheartedness of men who were being trained day by day to deliver the hammer strokes which were to smash the huge war machine of Imperial Germany.

The 2nd Brigade one day gave us a most successful circus in a large field near our Headquarters. The arrangements and weather were perfect, and the spectators were delighted with a performance that surpassed Buffalo Bill's Wild West show. Afternoon tea and dancing followed at a chateau, and aeroplanes gave us a fine exhibition of the skill of the new branch of the service by flying low and dropping messages and red smoke bombs. I met one of the young airmen, and in a fit of enthusiasm asked him if he would take me up with him some day. He was quite keen about it, and asked me to let him know when to (p. 256) send for me. Our plans, however, were upset a day or two afterwards by the Headquarters of the Division moving off to the beautiful Chateau at Villers Chatel. They left in the morning, and as usual I followed leisurely on Dandy. I went through some pretty villages. No soldiers were to be seen, and the quiet ordinary life of the people was undisturbed by the war. The world was bathed in sunshine and the fields were brilliant with new crops. Every little hamlet was embowered in trees, and the small white houses with their red tiled roofs spoke of peace. In the solemn light of evening I came to the entrance gate of my new home.

The Chateau of Villers Chatel was a fine modern building with an old round tower at one end. This tower is all that remains of the original structure, but it was kept in good condition and the interior was most artistically arranged. My room was in the garret and was approached by a spiral staircase, very narrow and steep. The Chateau was enlivened by the presence of two Countesses; both very pleasant ladies who had their own apartments and who kindly entertained us at night in their cheery drawing-room. On the wide lawn in front of the Chateau a huge chestnut tree stood, rich in leaves, with low boughs branching in all directions and covering a wide radius, and with their tips almost touching the grass. The tree furnished a green shelter for a large number of persons. The sun could not penetrate the foliage, and the giant trunk was covered with rugged bark beautifully coloured. Here, on Sunday mornings, I placed my flag-covered altar, and Church Parade was held under the tree. The men, over a hundred in number, stood in a semi-circle in front of me, and the bright sunlight beyond the rim of overhanging boughs lit up the green grass around. It was one of the most beautiful places imaginable for a church service, and the branches made a vaulted roof overhead. On one side of the garden was a large and elaborate cement grotto, and a statue of the Blessed Virgin stood in a niche at the back. Seats for worshippers were placed in front. The Countesses were moved by piety to keep a number of candles blazing in the grotto all night, invoking thereby the protection of Our Lady. Our staff, who walked not by faith but by sight, were much worried by the strong light which could easily be seen from a German aeroplane. However, no one could muster up courage enough to interfere with the devotion of our hostesses, and as a matter of fact we never had any bombing raids at Villers Chatel. It was a question among (p. 257) the officers as to whether our immunity should be attributed to the power of prayer or to extraordinary good-luck.

At the end of the lawn facing the Chateau was a forest of magnificent trees. It was in the fields at the back of this wood that we had held the memorial service for the 2nd Brigade, which I have already described. One of the forest paths was in the form of a pergola. The trees had been trimmed so that the boughs overhead were interlaced and it went for about half a mile into the forest, like the vaulted aisle of a church. The sunlight through the green leaves overhead cast on the pathway a mysterious light suggestive of fairyland.

Our battalions were once more in their old billets in the neighbourhood, and as we were still at rest I had many opportunities of visiting them. How well I remember going about and delivering my lecture on our leave trip to Rome. As I look back upon my war-memories, I think that those talks were the most delightful experiences I have ever had. I really had nothing to say, but I knew that anything which could occupy and amuse the minds of those brave lads, who were daily preparing to hurl themselves against the enemy, was worth while. I would go to the C.O. of a battalion and say, "Colonel, I would like to come and give your men a talk on our leave trip to Rome." He would always take the matter very seriously, thinking I had some learned discourse on architecture, or some other absolutely futile subject to give the men. But being too polite to tell me to go to Jericho, or somewhere else, he would say, "Yes, I am sure it would be very interesting. How long will the lecture last?" On my replying, "About two hours and a half," his countenance would fall. He was struggling between his fear of offending me and his fear of doing something which would bore the men. Sometimes colonels would say, "That's a long lecture." But I urged them to take my word for it and to let the thing go ahead, and if I saw I was boring the men I would stop. So the lecture would be announced. I suppose I must have given it to something like twenty thousand men. I would arrive at the battalion headquarters in the afternoon, have dinner with the C.O. and Adjutant in their billet, and then walk over to some pleasant field on which a thousand men were drawn up in line, presenting a most proper military appearance. The sun would be setting behind the trees which skirted the parade ground, and, after telling the Colonel and (p. 258) other officers to keep in the background, I would go over in front of the battalion and tell them that the Colonel had handed the parade over to me, and that they were to break ranks and sit on the ground as close as possible. At once military stiffness was dispelled, and amid much laughter the men would crowd around and squat on the ground tightly packed together. Imagine what a picture that was. Splendid stalwart young men they were, hundreds and hundreds of them, with healthy merry faces, and behind them in the distance the green trees and the sunset. Of course smoking was allowed, and I generally had some boxes of cigarettes to pass round. Then I would tell them of our trip to Rome and of my following out the injunction of making the most of a fortnight's leave by turning it into three weeks; of my puzzling the R.T.O. in Paris by asking for transportation to Rome via Marseilles, as we had abandoned the idea of travelling via Calcutta on account of the submarine menace; of my being unable to enter the Casino at Monte Carlo because officers were not admitted in uniform, and the only mufti I had brought with me was my pyjamas which I had left at the hotel; of the two casualties in the Paris barrage; of the time I gave C.B. to "Yorky" when I saw he had partaken too freely of coffee, and of the delightful memories of Italy which we had brought back with us. The talk was not all humorous. I managed to get in many little sermons between the lines, or as I put it, "the lecture was impregnated with the poison of morality." Men assimilated that poison more readily when handed out to them in such doses. Then the sun would set and the evening shadows lengthen, and finally the stars would come out over the scene and the mass of men before me would merge into one great blur, which sent up, nevertheless, roars of merry laughter. What appealed to them most was the way a padre and forty-four wild Canadians, in the biggest war the world has ever known, were able to break through the Hindenburg line of army red tape.

Our machine gun battalion was quartered south of the St. Pol road at a place called Averdoignt. It was a lovely little village, very quiet and well away from the line, with pretty orchards and a stream at the back. When it was only possible to have a voluntary service in the evening, I would get a group of men as a body-guard and start off down the village to the quaint old church, halting at every farmyard on the way and calling out to those billeted there, "Come on, you heathen, come to the voluntary church parade." In the most good-natured (p. 259) way, dragging their reluctant pals with them, men would come out and swell our ranks until, by the time we reached the church, there was a good congregation. There against the wall of the building I would plant a table borrowed from the Cure's house, make it into an altar, distribute hymn books, and start the service, while the evening lights in the sky tinged the scene with a soft beauty.

When we were in the line the machine-gunners were always split up into small sections over the front, their guns of course being very carefully concealed. In consequence, just when I thought I had reached an area which was quite uninhabited, I would stumble on some queer little hole, and, on calling down it to see if there were any men there, the answer would be, "The machine-gun battalion," and I would find myself among friends. At Averdoignt they had one of the best rest billets they ever had, and they enjoyed it thoroughly.

Owing to the great distance which I had to cover in doing my parish visiting among the battalions, the difficulty of transportation, which had been serious from the beginning, became even more pressing, and some good friend suggested to me on the quiet that I should try to get a Clino, (that is a machine-gun side-car) from the Motor Machine-Gun Brigade. With great trepidation, I made an excursion one day to their headquarters at Verdrel. The O.C. was most kind and sympathetic. I shall never cease to invoke blessings upon his head. He took me over to the machine-shop and there presented to me, for my use until it should be recalled, a new Clino which had just come up from the base. The officer in charge uttered a protest by saying that they only had six Clinos for the Brigade, but the major remarked dryly, "And after Canon Scott has got his we shall only have five." Surely once again the Lord had provided for me. I was driven back to the Chateau in the new machine, but then had to find a driver. One was provided by the signallers. He was a graduate in science of McGill, so I used to lay stress upon my personal greatness from the fact that I had a university graduate for my chauffeur. Many and varied were the drives which Lyons and I had together, and many and varied were our adventures. Had the Clino not been both exceedingly strong and very new it would have come to grief long before it did. To go rattling down the St. Pol road at forty-five kilometres an hour was a frequent occurrence. All I had to sit upon was a seat without arms, while my foot rested on a bar in (p. 260) front. People asked me how it was I did not tumble off. I told them that I tied myself to the back of the seat with my spinal cord. I got the sappers to make me a large box which fitted on the back of the vehicle and had a padlock. In it I used to carry my bag of a thousand hymn books and other necessaries for church parades, and on the top of the box, as a protection to my car, I had the words "Canon Scott" painted in large white letters. The dust as we threaded our way through the streams of lorries almost choked us, but we could cover the ground in a short space of time which was a great thing. Lyons never managed the lights very successfully, and one rainy night after midnight, when I was returning from saying good-bye to the artillery who were moving South, in a lonely part of the road he ran the machine into some bushes on a bank by the wayside, and we found ourselves sitting in the mud without our hats. We did not know where we were and the rain was heavy, but we managed to disentangle the car and finally got home, resolving that further night excursions were out of the question. About a fortnight afterwards I received an order to return the Clino, but before I did so I journeyed to Corps Headquarters and made a passionate appeal to General Currie for its retention. As a result I received a private intimation to keep the car and say nothing about it. Of course I was the envy of everyone, and when they asked me how I got the Clino I said I did not exactly know. Whether it was sent to me from heaven with the assistance of General Currie, or whether it was sent to me from General Currie with the assistance of heaven, was a theological question which I had no time to go into during the war. When our Division was marching into Germany, after I was knocked out of the campaign, the dear old signallers used to patch up the Clino, even making new parts for it, in order that Canon Scott's car might get into Germany. Alas! the poor thing, like the one-horse shay, went to pieces finally one day and had to be left at Mons. During those last busy months, I do not know how I could have got on without it.

As I was a bit under the weather at this time my friend, General Thacker, invited me to go and stay with him at his headquarters in the Chateau at Berles, where I was given a charming room looking out on the garden. I found myself in the midst of the artillery brigades who were now at rest, and very pleasant it was to see them away from the unwholesome gun-pits where they were usually to be found. I could (p. 261) lie on the grass in the garden, read one of Trollope's novels and listen to the birds overhead. A walk through the wood led to a huge field of scarlet poppies, which, when the sun shone upon it, made a blaze of colour which I have never seen equalled. As one approached it, one could see the red glow light up the stems of the trees as though they were aflame.

We had many boxing and baseball contests, which roused great excitement, but the crowning glory of the time was the Divisional sports which were held in a large field at a place called Tincques on the St. Pol road. A grandstand and many marquees had been erected, and the various events gave great delight to the thousands of spectators. In the evening our concert party gave a performance on the stage in the open air, which was witnessed by a large and enthusiastic audience. After it was all over, I unexpectedly met my airman friend, Johnny Johnson, who told me that he had been waiting a long time to take me up in his machine. I explained to him that, owing to our headquarters having moved away to Le Cauroy, I thought it was too far off to get in touch with him. In my secret heart, I had looked upon my removal as a special intervention of Providence on my behalf, but Johnny was not disposed, however, to allow any difficulty to stand in the way, so it was arranged that he should send for me at Berles the following day and take me to the headquarters of the 13th Squadron at Izel-les-Hameaux. There was nothing for it but to jump with alacrity at such a noble offer, so on the following morning I started off in the Squadron's car for their headquarters.

My pilot had gone off to bring up the new machine which was to take me on my first aerial voyage. The Squadron had most comfortable billets in huts, and were a most charming lot of young men. A Canadian amongst them, taking pity upon a fellow-countryman, gave me a kind introduction to his fellow officers. Johnny Johnson returned in the afternoon, and during tea I heard him explaining to the other men that he had had his choice of two machines, an old machine with a new engine and the other a new machine with an old engine. Although I was engaged in conversation at the other end of the table, I listened with great interest to this discussion, and felt much relieved when I heard that Johnny's choice of an old machine with a new engine was approved of by his hearers. He told me that the air was very bumpy and that he would not take me up until the sun was lower in the sky. Having arrived at that happy (p. 262) state of inward peace which a man experiences when he goes off to the dentist to have a tooth pulled, I did not mind when I was to be taken up. At six o'clock, however, Johnny said we must get ready, so I was provided with a fur-lined leather coat, leather helmet, goggles and a large pair of fur gauntlets. We went over to the aerodrome where our fiery steed was champing its bit as though longing to spring into the "vast inane." Two or three attendants were getting it ready. It was an R.E.8 plane and a machine gun was fixed on one side. Johnny climbed into his position and I took a seat behind him. An attendant came up and asked my name and address. It sounded as if I were making my last will and testament. I had a letter with me addressed to my son which I was to drop over his battery lines in Lievin, and also a red smoke bomb but declined an invitation to take any more formidable weapon. Then I told my pilot not to be anxious about me whatever happened. I always expected to be killed at the front so never worried how or when the event was to occur. The engine was then started. For a time the machine meandered about the field without showing any disposition to mount into the air and I was beginning to think, like the Irishman who was taken for a ride one day in a sedan chair that had no bottom in it, that, "If it were not for the honour and glory of the thing I might as lief walk," when, all of a sudden, we began to plunge, left the ground, and, mid a fearful buzzing, mounted higher and higher. We rose over the huts and above the village trees and then by a corkscrew motion which necessitated the machine going almost on its edge, we made our way heavenwards. I did not feel the least bit seasick but it was a curious sensation to look down and see absolutely nothing between me and the church of Izel-les-Hameaux crowned by its sharp pointed spire with no cork on it. I looked at my young friend in front of me, who was busy with the handles and cranks of his machine. He was only a boy of nineteen and my fate was literally in his hands, but his head was well set on his shoulders and he seemed completely self-possessed and confident. After we had mounted to six thousand feet, we struck out in the direction of the front.

It was a lovely afternoon and a most wonderful panorama spread below us. The great plain beneath us was marked off like a chessboard in squares of various shades of yellow and green, dotted here and there with little villages surrounded by the billowy crests of trees. We saw straight white roads going off in all directions, and beyond, (p. 263) towards the east, low murky clouds behind the German lines. We flew on and on till we reached the war zone and here the fields were marked by horse-tracks and the villages had been hit with shells. Before us in the distance I saw the line of our observation balloons and thought, if anything happened to the machine, I would get out into one of them, but when we passed over them they looked like specks on the ground below. I could see the blue ribbon of the Scarpe winding off into the great mists to the east, and then beneath us lay the old city of Arras. I could see the ruined Cathedral, the mass of crooked streets and the tiny, dusty roads. Further on was the railway triangle, where one night later on I got a good dose of gas, and then I saw the trenches at Fampoux and Feuchy. Still onward we sailed, till at last Johnny Johnson shouted back, at the same time pointing downwards, "The German trenches." I saw the enemy lines beneath us, and then Johnny shouted, "Now I am going to dip." It was not the thing I specially wanted to do at that particular moment, but I supposed it was all right. The plane took a dive, and then Johnny leaned over and fired off some rounds of the machine gun into the German lines. We turned to come back and rose in the air, when, in the roar of the wind I heard a bang behind me, and looking round saw, hanging in the air, a ball of thick black smoke. Then there was another beneath us and some more at one side. In all, the Germans followed us with six shells. Johnny turned round and shouted, asking me how I felt. "Splendid", I said, for I really did enjoy the novelty of the experience. Many times have I looked up into the clouds and seen a machine followed by "Archies" and wondered what it felt like to be up there, and now I knew. One phrase however, which I had often read in the newspapers kept ringing in my ears—"Struck the petrol tank and the machine came down in flames." And the last verse of "Nearer my God to Thee," also ran through my head, "Or if on joyful wing upwards I fly." We turned now to the right and flew over Vimy Ridge, and then made two or three turns round Lievin where, above his battery, I dropped the letter for my son. It was delivered to him two weeks afterwards in a hospital in London. We flew out over Lens and crossed the German lines again, skirting the district which the Germans had flooded and then turned our faces homewards. Above the Chateau at Villers Chatel, I dropped the red smoke bomb. We circled round in the air at a great height while I wrote on a piece of paper, "Canon Scott drops his blessing from the clouds on 1st Canadian Divisional Headquarters," and put (p. 264) it in the little pocket of leaded streamers. Alas, it was lost in a wheat field and so did not do them any more good than the other blessings I have dropped upon them. We then turned to Berles where I could see beneath me the old house and the tiny beings in white playing tennis on the court. We reached the aerodrome at Izel-les-Hameaux and landed safely after being in the air for fifty-five minutes. It was a most delightful experience for a non-combatant. The next day the engine of the machine gave out and Johnny Johnson was compelled to make a forced landing. Luckily it was behind our lines. I went several times again to try to have another flight, but from the excuses made I inferred that joy-rides of this description had been banned. The following year in London I heard by accident that poor Johnny Johnson had been killed a few weeks after our trip. He was a splendid young fellow and absolutely without fear. May his brave soul rest in peace.

Nearly two months had passed since we had been in the line, and the Germans had made no attack. We wondered what had happened to them. I thought that perhaps influenza had laid them low. At any rate we were not anxious to end the happy time we were having. The climax of our glory was reached on the 1st of July when we celebrated the birthday of the Dominion by Corps sports on the field at Tincques. It was a most wonderful occasion.

Dominion Day fell on a Monday, and on the previous afternoon, knowing that large bodies of men, including the contestants, were congregated at Tincques, I determined to go over and pay them a visit. I found the village full of troops and all very keen about the next day's show. In a little lane, were some 1st Division men, and they were enjoying the excitement of a game which was very popular at the front, called "Crown and Anchor." It is played with special dice on a board or square of green canvas. On the canvas were painted an anchor and crown and I think a heart and spade. The game was banned by the army on account of its unfairness. The banker had, I think, sixty-four chances to one in his favour. The consequence of this was that very soon he became possessed of all the money which green youths, unsuspecting their disadvantage, chose to lay on the board. This game, in the hands of a sharper, was often the means of robbing a battalion of very large sums of money; sometimes forty thousand francs were made by the banker. The police had orders to arrest anyone playing it and I used to (p. 265) do my best to stamp it out. Though I do not play for money myself, I never could see any great harm in those poor boys out there getting a little relaxation from their terrible nervous strain by a game of bridge or poker for a few francs. But a game which was founded wholly on dishonesty was something which I felt was unworthy of our men. Whenever I saw them crowding round a little spot on the grass I knew there was a game of crown and anchor going on, and I would shout, "Look out, boys, I am going to put the horse on the old mud hook"—a phrase I had heard the men use—and then canter Dandy into their midst scattering them in all directions. Over and over again I have gone into a ring of men and given the banker five minutes to decide whether he would hand over his board and dice to me or have his name reported to the police. He never failed to do the former, although sometimes he looked rather surly at losing a very fruitful source of revenue. I have brought home with me enough crown and anchor dice to make the mouth of an old soldier water. On this occasion I became possessed of the crown and anchor board and the dice in the usual way. But, as the men said they wanted to have some amusement, I went to an officer's billet and got a pack of cards for them, and they settled down to a game of poker.

Some pious souls proposed that I should have a service that evening in the field where the sports were to be held. I thought that it would be a good idea, but was not sure how large a congregation I should have. I got together a little body-guard in the village and we went off collecting stragglers by the way. When we came to the corner of the field where I proposed to hold my service, we found to my dismay that it was full of masses of men crowding around what I knew were crown and anchor boards on the ground. I did not mind doing police work in my own Division, where I was known by the men, but I did not feel called upon to act as A.P.M. for the Corps, so I had to start another line of campaign. I marched on at the head of my congregation straight into the midst of the gamblers. The men on the outskirts saw me coming and I could see them warning the players. Those sitting on the ground stood up and wondered what was going to happen. Looking very serious, I went right through the crowd, without saying anything, to a distance on the other side, and then the curiosity of the men was aroused and they all followed. When I stood still I found myself surrounded by hundreds of men who were waiting to see what I was going to do. (p. 266) Without a smile, I pulled out the crown and anchor board from my pocket and, to the astonishment of all, laid it on the ground and called out, in the gamblers' language, "Who is for the old sergeant-major?" Never before have I seen such an expression of surprise on people's faces. Among the crowd were some Imperial soldiers and they could not make out what sort of padre I was. For a moment, in spite of the grinning countenances of the 1st Division men, there was a pause of silent horror. Then they all burst into a roar of laughter, and I told them I had come out there that evening, as it was Sunday, to hold a service and did not know what text to take for a sermon. Now they had given me one. I held up the crown and anchor board and said I was going to preach about that, and I delivered a discourse on honesty. When it was over, they asked me to give my lecture on our leave trip to Rome. I thought it might be a good diversion for the time. My side-car was brought up, and sitting on it, in the midst of the men, who crowded about me on the ground, I gave them a long talk which lasted until it was too dark for any more crown and anchor.

The next day brought us glorious weather, and from early in the morning battalions were pouring into Tincques. The grounds were splendidly laid out and bordered with many stands and marquees. There must have been nearly forty-thousand spectators present. The Duke of Connaught, Sir Robert Borden, and all sorts of great people attended, and the playing of "O Canada" by the massed bands was something which, as a British General told me, made a big lump come in one's throat. It was the last Dominion Day we were to spend in France. We were on the eve of tremendous events, and it was a splendid manifestation of Canada's glory at the front. There was such a gathering of old friends who had not met for years, that one really could not attend to the various events and sports that were taking place. We met for a moment, and the old days would be talked over, and then we parted, some, alas, never to meet again in this world. That vast crowd which fringed the huge expanse of ground was quite the most thrilling spectacle that Canadians had ever seen. Tincques must be a quiet place now, and perhaps only a few marks in the great field still remain to show where the sports were held. But there were gathered there that day the vast host of noble gentlemen who saved the honour and freedom of our young country.



CHAPTER XXIX. (p. 267)

THE BEGINNING OF THE END.

July to August 7th, 1918.

The possession of a side-car gave me the opportunity of getting much further afield in my visits. Our 1st Divisional wing, where the new drafts were received and trained for the front line, was at this time back in a place called Loison, in the quiet and beautiful country between St. Pol and General Headquarters. I had done a great deal of parish visiting among our battalions in rest and given the story of my leave trip to Rome many times, so I thought I would make an excursion to the Base. We had a delightful trip down the St. Pol road through little villages and towns which looked as they did in pre-war days. The country where the Divisional wing was stationed was very charming. It was well watered by many pretty rivers, and hills covered with trees gave diversity to the landscape. I told the men they were living in a land flowing with milk and honey. I stayed at the headquarters of the wing in a delightful old house on a hill surrounded with fine trees. Each Brigade had its own reserve, so there were many men in the village, and an old mill pond enabled me to have two or three good swims. In a Y.M.C.A. tent, courses of lectures in connection with the Khaki University were being given on various subjects. One evening, naturally I gave them a talk on our leave trip to Rome. On another, in a corner of the field, I gave them an informal lecture on English literature. Having got so far from home, I determined to go a little further, and so we made a trip to Boulogne, where my son who had been gassed was still in a C.C.S., and that afternoon on our return we went to Montreuil to see what G.H.Q. looked like. I was told that Montreuil was a very picturesque old walled city, but that we should not be allowed to enter. However, I had been able to do so many forbidden things in the war that I thought it would be worth trying, so the old Clino sped over the hard macadamized roads from Boulogne till we came to the valley on the opposite side of which the town is situated. We saw many cars coming and going, and many troops by the way, and finally we sped up the hill which leads to the entrance gate. A sentry was standing there, who saluted most properly, and we passed into (p. 268) the sacred city without molestation. It was a delightful old French town, full of historical interest. The narrow streets and quaint old buildings carried one back in thought to the days of chivalry and battles waged by knights in shining armour. We saw some of the churches, and then went to the officers' club for tea. The waitresses at the club were English girls who had taken the place of the men needed at the front. I got them to provide for my friend Lyons in their sitting-room, and I went in to have tea with the officers. A great many were there sitting at small tables. It was interesting to see the badges of so many different regiments. Most of the officers had a good supply of ribbons, and a few of them had lost an eye or a limb, or bore other marks of wounds. I think that almost all of them were staff officers and that some of them were generals. It struck me that the atmosphere to a stranger was rather chilly. The demeanour of the people was much less free than that which we had been accustomed to at the front. Of course Montreuil held the brains of the army, and it was quite right that the directing intelligences there should feel the loftiness of their position. I made up two lines as I was having tea, which I thought hit off the mental attitude of some of the officers present, when they saw a stranger and looked him up and down through their monocles,

"I'm on the staff of the G.H.Q., And I'd like to know who the devil are you?"

There had been such a democratic upsetting of traditions and customs in the Service, owing to the obliteration of the original British Army, that it was quite refreshing to find that a remnant of Israel had been saved.

I paid two visits to the Divisional wing within a few days of each other, and on one occasion, on a baking July day, addressed a battalion of draftees who were about to be sent up to the front. They were a fine looking lot of men and knew their drill. Poor boys, they little knew what was in store for them in those last hundred days of the war.

Rumours were current now that the time for our great attack had come, so there were no more joy-rides for me to the pleasant fields and society of Loison. On my return on July 14th I found our Headquarters once again at Etrun, and our Division were holding their old (p. 269) trenches to the north and south of the Scarpe. Once more I had the pleasure of sleeping in Pudding trench and doing what I called "consolidating the line." I did a good deal of parish visiting in the trenches at this time. I felt that big changes might occur at any moment, and I wanted to be with the men in any ordeal through which they might have to pass. Very strange scenes come before me as I look back upon those days before our great attack. One night I stayed with the gallant Colonel of the Canadian Scottish at Tilloy. His headquarters were in No Man's Land, and the front trench ran in a semi-circle to the rear. The Colonel, having found a good German dugout in the cellars of the ruined chateau, preferred to make his headquarters there. We did not know where the enemy's front line was, and our men were doing outpost duty in shell-holes further forward. They had to be visited every two hours when it was dark, to see that all was well. That night I asked the Colonel if I might go out with the patrol. He demurred at first, and then gave his consent only on condition that I should take off my white collar, and promise not to make any jokes with the men on duty for fear they should laugh and give away our position. I made my promise and started with the patrol officer and his runner. It was a curious sensation wandering off in the darkness as silently as possible, tripping now and then on bits of wire and almost slipping into the trenches. We came to the different shell-holes and whispered conversations were held. The sentries seemed surprised when I spoke to them, as they could not recognize me in the darkness. I whispered that I had promised the Colonel not to tell any funny stories for fear they should laugh, so I merely gave them the benediction, in return for which spiritual function I got a very warm handshake. To do outpost duty in a place like that must have been more interesting than pleasant, for at all times the sentries had to keep straining their eyes in the darkness to see if a patrol of the enemy was coming to surprise them. On our return we saw some shells falling to the right in the shadowy desolation of what was called Bully-beef Wood.

On another occasion, I was coming out near Feuchy along the railway triangle when the Germans dropped some gas shells in the cutting. Two of the men and I were talking together, and we had just time to dive into Battalion Headquarters and pull down the gas blankets. We put on our helmets, but not before we had got a dose of the poison. As I sat there with my throat burning, I was filled with alarm lest I (p. 270) should lose my voice and be unable in the future to recite my poems. It was hard enough, as it was, to keep my friends long enough to hear my verses, but I thought that if I had to spell them out in deaf-and-dumb language no one would ever have patience to wait till the end. However, after a few days my throat got better, and my friends were once again forced to lend me their ears.

The railway triangle was a well-known place, and any men who may have lived in some of the dugouts along the banks are not likely to forget it. In the valley there was a large artificial lake in which I had some of the most pleasant swims I have ever enjoyed, although the waters were sometimes stirred up by the advent of a shell.

It was part of our strategy to let our men get the impression that we were going to stay in the trenches before Arras for a long time. We had several raiding parties with a view to finding out the position and strength of the enemy, and our C.C.S.'s were well equipped and looked as if they were going to remain there forever. Our Corps Headquarters, too, were not far from Etrun, and the concentration of Canadians in the neighbourhood gave us the impression that we had found a more than temporary resting place. An American Chaplain was sent up to stay with me for a visit in order to see what conditions were like at the front. He was a Lutheran, although not of German extraction. I took him up to Arras one night, where we had dinner with the engineers, and afterwards saw the 10th Battalion start off for the trenches. He was much impressed with the spirit and appearance of the men. It was late when we got back to my quarters, and to my surprise on the next morning an order came through that the American Chaplain had to return immediately. Neither he nor I could understand it. I began to think he must have got into some scrape, as no explanation was given. The real reason came out afterwards.

On August 1st our Division suddenly packed up and started once more for Le Cauroy. We knew now that big things were in store for us and that the Canadian Corps were going to attack. We heard rumours of the preparations the French and Americans had made in the South, and we felt that at last the Allies were going to get the initiative into their hands. Whither we were going, however, we did not know, but we all devoutly hoped that it would not be the Salient. The secret of our destination was kept most profoundly. We were told that everything (p. 271) depended upon our holding our tongues and exciting as little curiosity as possible among the inhabitants. Once again, as before Vimy, but to even a greater extent, we felt the electric thrill which kindles the imagination of an army going into battle. The rapid move which the Canadian Corps now made was the most sporting thing we ever did, and it appealed strongly to the hearts of young men who were keen on games and had been inured to a hardy life in Canada. Swiftly and secretly the battalions entrained at various points and left for parts unknown. I went in my side-car to the machine-gun headquarters at Liencourt, and on the next day to the Cure's house at Le Cauroy. I found out from Headquarters that our Division was going south within a day or so, but that I was not to tell the men. The brigades were billeted in the neighbouring villages, but were soon to move. I was only one day at Le Cauroy, and on the 3rd of August, after a rainy morning, started off in my side-car for Hornoy, a little village not far from Amiens. We left Le Cauroy in the afternoon, and soon the sun came out making the freshly washed country more beautiful than ever. It was very interesting finding our way by the map, and as we neared our destination I met many friends in the other divisions who were stationed in the villages through which we passed. By the time we reached Hornoy, the sun had set. My billet was to be with the Cure. I went over to the neat white Presbytere which was approached by a large gate leading into the garden. The old man came to meet me at the door of his house, and put me through a lot of questions in what I thought was a needlessly gruff manner. I found out afterwards that he was very kind, and that his gruffness was only assumed. He gave me a room upstairs comfortably furnished, and invited me to come into his office whenever I pleased. The church, which could be entered from the garden, was in good order, and parts of it were very old. The day after we arrived at Hornoy was Sunday, August 4th. It was the fourth anniversary of our declaration of war, and I had hoped to hold a big service for the men. Unfortunately, we were all scattered and, as our hymn books did not turn up, having been confiscated as a reprisal by some of the crown and anchor men, my plans were frustrated. In the afternoon I went by side-car to Amiens and found the city looking very different from its appearance on my last visit. The streets were absolutely deserted. Many of the houses had been damaged by shells. The Cathedral roof itself had been (p. 272) pierced in some places and the noble interior looked very dreary, the floor of the nave being covered with bits of broken stone and glass. It was sad to think that it might share the fate of Rheims. Some Canadians were wandering about the streets rather disconsolately. The empty city gave one a terrible sense of loneliness. On the following evening about midnight the 16th Battalion and the 3rd Battalion of Engineers passed through Hornoy in trains, going forward.

Our own orders to move came two days later, on August 7th, and I left for St. Feuchien. I went off in my side-car to the quaint old village. It is situated on the top of a low hill, and consists of a few streets and some large buildings standing in their own grounds. One of these was the country home of the Archbishop of Amiens, and this was to be our billet. I entered the grounds by a broken-down gate and drew up in front of a large brick building, one wing of which was a chapel and kept locked up. In front of the building was a well full of empty tins and other refuse. The interior of the place had once been quite fine, but was now absolutely filthy, having been used as billets. The billiard tables, however, could still be used. The room assigned to me was on the ground floor at the back. The dirt on the floor was thick, and a sofa and two red plush chairs were covered with dust. A bed in the corner did not look inviting, and through the broken windows innumerable swarms of blue-bottle flies came from the rubbish heaps in the yard. The weather was very hot and there was apparently no water for washing. I made an inspection of the building upstairs, but all the rooms had been assigned to different officers. The Archbishop's room was very large with a huge bed in it, but wore an air of soiled magnificence.

Everybody was in a great rush and, although I did not know when our attack was to take place, I felt that it might happen at any moment; and so, not worrying about my billet, I started off in my side-car to see General Thacker at Chateau Longeau. I found, as I passed through Boves and other villages, that the whole Canadian Corps was concentrated in the neighbourhood. The dusty roads were crowded with lorries, tanks, whippets and limbers, besides numbers of men. When I got to Chateau Longeau I found, to my surprise, that the General had gone to Battle Headquarters in Gentelles Wood, and an officer whom I met on the road told me that zero hour was on the following morning. I determined therefore not to return to the archiepiscopal palace (p. 273) at St. Feuchien, but to go off to the attack. I returned to Boves, where, having washed and shaved, I had dinner in a damaged house with some officers of a light trench mortar battery, and after dinner started on my way to Gentelles Wood. It was a time of intense excitement. Less than a week ago we had been in the line at Arras, and now we were about to make our great attack at Amiens. The warm summer evening was well-advanced when I reached our Battle Headquarters behind the wood. All the staff officers were so busy that to ask one a question was like putting a spark to a powder magazine, so I kept out of their way and journeyed up the road to the barrier beyond which no vehicle was allowed to pass. I said good-bye to Lyons and then started off to find the trenches from which the 16th Battalion was going to lead the charge.



CHAPTER XXX. (p. 274)

THE BATTLE OF AMIENS.

August 8th to 16th, 1918.

It was strange and exhilarating to go off on an expedition of that kind in the cool air and fading light of the evening. Something told us that at last the hour of victory was drawing near. The moving of the Corps had been so splendidly conducted and the preparation had been so secret that success seemed assured. This was an achievement which was completely different from all our past experience. The only question was, had we taken the Germans by surprise, or were they waiting with massed forces to resist our attack? As I left the outskirts of the wood behind me, and made my way over the green plain, now fading into the twilight, I passed a battalion of the 3rd Division manning a line of trenches. I had a talk with some of the men and told them that I had heard from a tank officer that nearly one thousand tanks were to be engaged in the attack on the following morning. Far over to the left, on a rise in the ground I saw the remains of a village, and was told that a mud road across the fields would lead me in the direction of the 1st Division front. I met as usual many men whom I knew, and finally some officers of the 15th Battalion in a dugout. The light began to fade and I had difficulty in seeing far ahead of me, but the track at last brought me to a sunken road which turned to the right. Here on the hillside more men were waiting in dugouts, and I was directed to a quarry, on the top of which I was to take a path that would lead me to a group of trees, where I should find the Headquarters of the 16th Battalion. When I got to the quarry I found many roads there, and whether it was that the information I had received was incorrect, or that I was more than usually stupid, I do not know. I wandered up and down for a long time, tripping over bits of wire and slipping into holes, before I was able to get to the top of the hill and look over in the direction of the German lines. At last I found a track which had evidently been used by men going up to the front. I went along it for a considerable distance and found myself on what appeared to be a plateau, but as far as I could see, no object stood out against the starry sky-line. Shells were falling in the fields to the left, and at different points on the eastern (p. 275) horizon the bright light of a German flare would tell us the position of the enemy's lines. I went on for some distance, straining my eyes in the darkness to see if I could discover any trees. I thought I had lost my way again. Suddenly the dim figure of a man approached, and when he came up to me, I found he belonged to one of the Imperial Battalions from whom we were taking over the line. He asked me the way to the quarry, and I was able to tell him. Then he gave me the direction I had to take to reach my destination. I resumed my walk along the narrow path and at last, to my great delight, I saw a black object in the distance. When I came up to it I found it was the group of trees for which I had been looking. The trees were growing out of a curious round hole in the ground. Here, a signaller of the 16th Battalion happened to turn up and acted as my guide. He led me down a path to the bottom of the hole where were several dugouts. In one of these I found more men of the Battalion. They were intensely keen over the prospect of a great victory on the morrow. I was told that the battalion and the companies which were going over in the first wave were in advanced trenches to the left. So, after bidding the men good-bye and good luck, I started off. At last I reached the trench, and getting down into it found the Headquarters of the Battalion had arrived there not long before. On asking where the Colonel was, I was taken to a place where a piece of canvas hung down the side of the trench. When this was lifted, I looked down into a little hole in the ground and there saw the C.O., the Adjutant and another officer studying a map by the light of a candle. The place was so tiny that I had to crawl in backwards, and finding that there was no room for a visitor, I soon took my departure. The Colonel ordered me to stay in the trench, but I had made up my mind to go forward and see the companies which were going over in the first wave. They lay along the side of a road some distance down the slope in front of us. In making my way there I passed a trench where the 5th Battalion was waiting to follow up the advance. A German machine-gun was playing freely upon the spot, but no one got hit. When I came to the advanced companies of the 16th Battalion, I passed along their line and gave them my blessing. It was splendid to meet and shake hands with those gallant lads, so soon to make the attack. They were in high spirits in spite of the seriousness of their enterprise.

The barrage was to start at 4.20, so I left them about 4.10 to go (p. 276) back to Battalion Headquarters in the trench, as I intended to follow up the advance with the stretcher-bearers. On my way back I met the Colonel, his orderly, and his piper, who a few minutes later was killed in the attack. I shook hands with them, and the Colonel said, "Now, Canon, if anything happens to me don't make any fuss over me; just say a few words over me in a shell-hole." I said, "You will come out all right, Colonel, there will be no shell-hole for you." Then, as my senior officer, he ordered me back to the trench. I told him I would go over the top with him if he wanted me to do so, but he would not hear of it. When I got to the trenches only a few minutes remained till the barrage was to start. I climbed up on the parapet and waited, looking off into the darkness. It was a wonderful moment. When the German flare-lights went up we could see that there was a wood on the other side of the valley in front of us, and its outline began to grow more distinct against the grey of the morning sky. I could see to right and left a great stretch of country sloping gradually into the darkness. Shells still fell behind our lines at intervals. Our own guns were perfectly silent. What did the enemy's quietness portend? Were the Germans aware of our contemplated assault? Were they lying in full strength like a crouching lion ready to burst upon us in fury at the first warning of our approach? Had all our precautions been in vain? Or were we on the eve of a victory which was going to shatter the iron dominion of the feudal monster? This was one of those magnificent moments in the war which filled the soul with a strange and wild delight. For months we had been preparing for this event, and now it was upon us. The sky was growing lighter, and the constellation of the Pleiades was beginning to fade in the sky above the outline of the distant trees. I looked at my watch. Nearer and nearer the hands crept to zero hour, but they move slowly at such times. Then at 4.20 the long barrage burst in all its fury. The hissing rain of shells through the air on a twenty mile front made a continuous accompaniment to the savage roar of the thousands of guns along the line. Those guns sent their wild music round the globe, and sounded that note of victory which only ceased when the bells of the churches in all the civilized world rang out their joyful peals at the signing of the Armistice.

Up went the German rockets and coloured lights calling for help, (p. 277) and ever and anon a red glow in the sky told us that we had blown up an ammunition dump. The noise was earth-shaking, and was even more exhilarating than that of the barrage at Vimy. I was so carried away by my feelings that I could not help shouting out, "Glory be to God for this barrage!" The German reply came, but, to our delight, it was feeble, and we knew we had taken them by surprise and the day was ours.

A strange sound behind us made us look around, and we saw the advancing tanks creeping down the slope like huge grey beetles. Our men were just in time to divert the course of one which threatened to cut our telephone wires. Then the 5th Battalion got out of their trenches, and the stretcher-bearers and I went off with them down the slope. The wood through which the German lines ran was called Hangard Wood and lay on the opposite side of the valley. Here and there lying in the ripe grain which covered the fields were bodies of the wounded and dead of the 13th and 16th Battalions. The stretcher-bearers set to work to carry off those who had been hit. A sergeant followed me and we skirted the wood looking for wounded, while he was able to become possessor of a machine-gun and several German revolvers. The wheat had been trampled down by the men in their charge, but was still high enough in places to conceal a prostrate form. By this time the attack had passed through the wood and the enemy were running before it. The German artillery now concentrated their fire on the valley, which soon, in the still morning air, became thick with smoke. It was impossible to see more than a few yards in front of one. We heard the crash of shells around us, but could not see where they burst. The sun had not risen and we soon lost our way in the mist. We could not tell from the direction of the sound which was the German barrage and which was ours.

I was going on ahead when I came to a large shell-hole that had been made in some previous battle. At the bottom of it lay three apparently dead Huns. I was looking down at them wondering how they had been killed, as they were not messed about. I thought that they must have died of shell-shock, until one of them moved his hand. At once I shouted, "Kamarad", and to my intense amusement the three men lying on their backs put up their hands and said, "Kamarad! mercy! mercy!" It was most humorous to think that three human beings should appeal to me to spare their lives. I told them in my best French to get up and follow me, and I called out to the sergeant, "Sergeant, I have got (p. 278) three prisoners." My desire to take a prisoner had been a standing joke among our men. Whenever they were going into action I used to offer them $25.00 to bring out a little German whom I might capture all by myself. I used to tell them not to bring out a big one, as it might look boastful for a chaplain. Here were three ready to hand for which I had to pay nothing. We moved on through the smoke, a most comical procession. The sergeant went ahead and I brought up the rear. Between us went the three terror-stricken prisoners, crouching every now and then when shells fell near us. At last we stumbled on a company of the 2nd Battalion coming forward, and I called out to them, "Boys, I got seventy-five dollars worth of Huns in one shell-hole." Our gallant Canadians at once took the three unfortunate men, who looked as if they expected to have their throats cut, and having relieved them of the contents of their pockets and removed their buttons and shoulder-straps, gave me one of the latter as a souvenir.

When the prisoners were disposed of and sent back with others under escort, I started forward again and seeing a tank coming down the hill got on it and so went back into the battle. We passed quite easily over some wide trenches, then when the machine came to a stop I got off and made my way to the end of the valley and climbed to the higher ground beyond. There I found myself in a wide expanse of country covered by yellow grain and rolling off in hills to the distance. Here and there I met wounded men walking back, and many German prisoners. In the fields in different directions I could see rifles stuck, bayonet downwards, in the ground, which showed that there lay wounded men. I found that these were chiefly Germans, and all of them had received hideous wounds and were clamouring for water. Poor men, I was sorry for them, for I knew it would be long before they could be carried out or receive medical attention, owing to the rapidity of our advance. I made my way to each in turn and gave him a drink from some of the water bottles which I carried round my belt. I think all the Germans I saw that morning were dying, having been wounded in the stomach. After attending, as far as it was possible, to their bodily needs, I endeavoured to minister to their spiritual. As they happened to be Roman Catholics, I took off the crucifix which I wore round my neck and gave it to them. They would put up their trembling hands and clasp it lovingly, and kiss it, while I began the Lord's Prayer (p. 279) in German. This happened many times that day. One man who had a hideous wound in the abdomen was most grateful, and when he handed me back the crucifix he took my hand and kissed it. It was strange to think that an hour before, had we met, we should have been deadly enemies. At a crossroad further on the Germans must have concentrated their fire when our men advanced, for many dead and wounded were lying about.

The sun was now high in the heavens and it became very hot, but the autumn fields looked beautiful, and, as there were no hedges or fences, the low rolling hills gave one the sense of great expanse, and were an ideal ground for a battle on a large scale. While I was looking after the wounded I heard the cheering of the 16th Battalion who had reached their objective and were settling down to rest and to have some food. I made my way to them and found the Colonel in high glee over what his men had done. It had been a splendid routing of the enemy. The Battalions of the 1st and 2nd Brigades followed up the attack and were now moving forward, so I followed after them. It was a delightful feeling to be walking through the golden harvest fields with the blue sky overhead, and to know that we were advancing into the enemy's land. It seemed as if by our own labours we had suddenly become possessed of a vast property and that everything we found was lawfully ours. It is no doubt that feeling which fills men with the desire to loot in a conquered country.

I had a magnificent view from the hill of the British Cavalry going into action. Thousands of little horses in the distance on the vast plain were galloping in a long line across the yellow fields, which reminded one of the great battles of old, when mounted men, and not machine-guns and gas-shells, were the determining factor. The store of water that I had brought with me was now exhausted, but I was able to get a fresh supply from the water-bottle of a dead man. The road that leads from Gentelles to Caix winds through the valley to the right of the line of our attack and follows a little stream. It is very narrow, and on that day was so crowded with cavalry, ambulances and artillery moving forward that every now and then it would become blocked. In a mill, which the Germans had used partly as artillery headquarters and partly as a depot for military stores, our men found a quantity of blankets, coats and other useful articles. Our doctors established an aid-post in the out-buildings, and made use of the materials which the enemy had left behind in his flight. A section of our machine-gunners (p. 280) was resting there, and it was a great refreshment to stop for a while and have a good clean-up and a shave with a borrowed razor. We were so parched with thirst that we drank out of the stream, in spite of the fact that many shells had fallen into it. Our final objective was still some miles away, so I started up the road, following after the 1st Brigade.

The Germans, finding the game was up, had left many guns behind them and blown up a large quantity of ammunition. One great heap of it lay beside the river. Very pretty hamlets lay along the valley; we passed one called Ignacourt, where there was a damaged church. We afterwards established an ambulance there. I was very tired with my long walk, not having had any sleep the night before, so was glad to get a lift on an ambulance and go forward in the afternoon to the village of Caix, which was the final objective of the 2nd Brigade. One of our ambulances had taken over a building in the Square, but was shelled out of it that night. The 10th Battalion had gone forward and taken possession of trenches beyond the village. I went out to them and there found the men in high spirits over the way the battle had gone. The old red patch Division had advanced 14,000 yards, and so had beaten the record of any division, British or enemy, during the War. It was now late in the afternoon and no further attack that day was contemplated. Before us on a slight rise in the ground lay the village of Rosieres, through which the road ran parallel to the trenches which we held. Between us and the village was a slight dip in the ground, and with glasses we could see lorries full of fresh German troops, amid clouds of dust, making their way to a point in the village. There they would stop and the men would get out and hurry down the fields into the trenches. It looked as if they were going to make a counter-attack. The situation was very disquieting. I was told by one of the sergeants in our front line that we were in need of fresh ammunition, and he asked me if I would let the Colonel know. I passed through the trenches on my return and told the men how glorious it was to think that we had pushed the Germans back and were now so many miles from where we had started. I went back to Battalion Headquarters and found that they were in a cottage on the eastern extremity of the village. Across the road was a cavalry observation-post, where some officers were watching Rosieres and the arrival of German troops. (p. 281) Luckily for us the Germans had no guns to turn upon us, although the village of Caix was shelled constantly all night. Later on, some batteries of the Royal Horse Artillery and our field guns, which had come up, sealed the fate of the Germans and prevented a counter-attack. A glorious sunset over the newly conquered territory made a fitting close to a day of great deeds and high significance. When darkness fell and the stars looked out of the quiet sky, I said good-night to my cavalry friends, whose billets were down in a hollow to the right, and started off to find some place to sleep.

The cellars of the cottage occupied by the Colonel were crowded, so I went to the village and seeing some men entering a gateway followed them. It was the courtyard of a large building, presumably a brewery. The runners of the battalion had found a deep cellar where they had taken up their abode. I asked if I might sleep with them for the night. The cellar was not particularly inviting, but it was well below the ground and vaulted in brick. The floor was simply earth and very damp. Two candles were burning in a box where a corporal was making out the ration-list for the men. I got two empty sandbags to put on the floor to keep me from getting rheumatism, and lying on them and using my steel helmet as a pillow I prepared to sleep. The runners, except those on duty, did the same. Our feet met in the centre of the room and our bodies branched off like the spokes of a wheel. When anyone turned and put his feet on one side we all had to turn and put our feet in the same direction. We heard a good many shells bursting in the Square that night, but we were safe and comparatively comfortable. Before I got to sleep, I watched with great admiration the two young non-coms who were sitting at the table arranging and discussing in a low tone the duties of the various men for the following day. The two lads could not have been more than twenty years of age, but their sense of responsibility and justice was well-developed. I thought what a fine thing it was that men were being trained like that to become useful citizens of Canada. We were up early in the morning and I made my way to Battalion Headquarters, where I heard that there was to be another attack in the forenoon.

We were now to change places with the 2nd Division. They were to shift from our right flank to our left and take over the attack on (p. 282) Rosieres while we advanced towards Warvillers. From the cavalry observation-post, I could see with a glass the 5th Battalion going up to the front in single file along a hedge. I had breakfast with the 7th Battalion officers in their dugout by the roadside near the cavalry billets, and then started off to join the 8th Battalion which was going to attack that morning. Machine-guns from Rosieres were playing on the road near the end of the wood. I determined therefore not to go round the wood but through it and so reached the other side in safety. I was sitting on a fallen tree eating some lunch and wondering whether I should be able to get up in time for the attack, when, to my great joy, over the hill to my right, I saw some troops approaching in extended order. Hardly had they appeared on the crest when the Germans at Rosieres opened fire upon them and shells fell on the hill. The men kept very steady and nobody, as far as I could see, was hit. When they got down to the wood I went forward and spoke to them and found they were the 22nd Battalion, and I met several Quebecers whom I knew.

I saw the Battalion go off in the direction of Rosieres and I renewed my journey to our own line. I passed the 24th Battalion who were going up on the left of the 22nd, and they told me that the 2nd Brigade were on their right. There were many trenches along the way which the Germans had abandoned on the previous day. I passed a poor horse which was badly wounded and still alive. It was attached to a broken German cart. I got one of our men to shoot the animal, and went on till I came to a railway in the hollow and followed it. There were many wooden buildings here and there which had been built by the Germans. These structures had been badly knocked about by shrapnel, and the litter of articles within showed how rapid the German flight had been. At a little distance on the east side of the track, there was a green wood, which was called, as I afterwards found out, Beaufort or Hatchet Wood. Every now and then as I walked, little puffs of dust would rise from the road in front of me, showing that machine-gun bullets were falling about. A cavalry patrol of three men, returning down the track from the direction of the wood, came towards me, and, taking me for a combatant officer, the corporal saluted and said, "That wood is very heavily held by machine-guns, Sir, we have just made a reconnaissance." "That's all right," I said, "I do not intend to take it just yet." I was going up the track, wondering where I had got to, when I saw (p. 283) a young officer of the 8th Battalion, followed by his men, coming towards me. I went to him and told him that I had heard the wood was very heavily held by machine-guns. He said he knew it and was going to attack from the side, so I went with them and, as they lay on the ground and got their Lewis guns in position, I pronounced the benediction over them and then continued my journey up the railroad. On the west side of the track at the top of the bank was a hedge. Here I found the 14th Battalion waiting to follow up the 8th. A young officer of the latter battalion was lying on the ground dying. He dictated a farewell letter to his wife, which I afterwards gave to the Adjutant. On the slope of ground down which the 8th had charged towards the railway I saw many bodies of dead and wounded men, so I went up to them to see what I could do. Several were dying, and I found one poor fellow who had never been baptised; so I took some water from my bottle and baptised him as he lay there. They would be carried off when the stretcher-bearers could begin their work.

While I was attending to the wounded, I looked towards the wood at the other side of the track. I was on a higher level, and so had a view of the open country beyond, and there, to my astonishment, I saw the Germans leaving their ambush and running away. I hurried down the hill to the hedge and shouted out to the 14th Battalion that the Germans were running away, and an officer came up to make sure. Then orders were given to the men to charge and they crossed the track and took possession of the wood. As soon as I had seen the wounded carried off I followed after the troops, and there once more had the joy of advancing over newly-won territory.

At a farmhouse a number of our men were gathered for a temporary rest, and there I learned that the colonel of the 8th Battalion and a large number of officers and men had been killed that morning. The battalion had to charge down the hill in the face of heavy machine-gun fire. Some tanks were standing by the farm and one of the officers offered to take me with him in the machine, but as it was to go into the 2nd Divisional area I had to decline the invitation and follow up our men on foot. I passed a number of German wounded. One of them, a young lad, was terribly alarmed when he saw me approaching, thinking I was going to murder him. He held up his hands and shouted, "Kamarad!" I think the Germans had heard wild stories of the ferocity of (p. 284) Canadians. The boy then began to implore me to send him to an ambulance. He was wounded in the leg, and had bound up his wounds very neatly and skilfully. I tried to make him understand that the stretcher-bearers would come up in time, and I stuck his rifle in the ground with his helmet on the top of it, as a signal to the bearer party.

Before me at the end of the road, I saw amid trees the village of Warvillers. Many men were going towards it from all directions; and I saw our artillery brigades taking up battery positions to the left. I met two men of the 5th Battalion and we started off to the village together. The place was now in our hands, as the Germans had evacuated it some hours before. The houses were quite intact and offered prospects of pleasant billets. My companions and I, finding it was quite late in the afternoon, determined to go and have our meal in a garden near the Chateau. We sat down on the grass and opened our bully-beef tins, and seeing onions growing in the garden thought it would be a good thing to have that savoury vegetable as a relish. It added to the enjoyment of our simple meal to think that we were eating something which the Germans had intended for themselves. We managed to get some fresh water too from a well nearby, which looked quite clean. On the other side of a wall we could see the roof of the Chateau. One of the men thought he would like to go and explore and find out who was there. He came back a few minutes afterwards and said it was full of Germans. So, taking their rifles, the two men went off to attack it, thinking they had found a stronghold of the enemy. I was just having a smoke after my meal when the lads came back and said that the Germans whom they had seen were our prisoners and that the Chateau had been taken over by us as a dressing station. We made our way to it and found that it was a very beautiful place situated in lovely grounds. A card on a door upstairs bore the inscription, "His Excellency General," and then followed a German name. The place had been the headquarters of some enemy corps or division on the previous day. At the back of the Chateau was a very strong concrete dugout divided off into rooms, which were soon filled by our officers and men. All that night the wounded were being brought to the Chateau, and German prisoners also found their way there. Nobody was paying much attention to the latter, and, thinking it was unwise to let them wander about, and perhaps go back to their lines with information about our location, with (p. 285) the permission of the C.O. of the ambulance, who was up to his eyes in work, I had them all put into one large room over which I placed a guard. They were sent back to the corps cage in the morning. The Germans evidently expected that we would use the Chateau because they dropped some heavy shells in the garden during the night, and we had to get the wounded down in to the cellars in quick time.

I had about three hours sleep that night, and in the morning I determined to follow up our men of the 1st Brigade who had now established themselves at a village ahead of us called Rouvroy. As I was starting off, a signaller came up to me and told me he had captured a stray horse with a saddle on it and that he would lend it to me to take me to my destination. I mounted the animal and went down the avenue in great pride and comfort, but after I got into the road a man came up and stopped me and told me, to my horror, that I was riding his horse which he had lost the night before. It requires great strength of mind and self-mastery to give up a mount to a pedestrian when you are once in the saddle. But the war had not entirely extinguished the light of conscience in my soul, so, tired as I was, I dismounted and gave up the steed. But as I saw the man ride back to the Chateau I began to wonder within myself whether he was the real owner or not. One thief does not like to be out-witted by another. However, there was nothing to do now but to go straight ahead. The road before me led directly to Rouvroy. Some German planes were hovering overhead, and in the fields to my left our artillery were going into action. As shells were dropping on the road I took a short cut over the fields. Here I found some of our machine-gunners, and the body of a poor fellow who had just been killed. I got to the village of Rouvroy about noon and made my way to a dugout under the main road, where the colonel and some of the officers of the 3rd Battalion were having lunch. They gave me a cup of tea, but I told them I had taken my food on the journey, so did not want anything to eat. They looked much relieved at this, because rations were short. Their chaplain was there and gave me a warm reception. I was feeling rather used up, so lay down on a wire mattress and had an hour's sleep. When lunch was over the chaplain and I went to see the sights of the town. The ruined church was being used for a dressing station and it seemed to me it was rather a dangerous place, as the Germans would be (p. 286) likely to shell it. We found an old bookshop which was filled with German literature and writing paper, some of which proved very useful.