The people of Salisbury were sorry to see us leave for we had spent much money in the town.

The day before we marched out I had visited the city to pay up our bills, see about the storage of baggage and kits, and pay a visit before leaving to the ruins of old Sarum.

Contemplation of these stupendous ruins of a great people recall the fact that it was the Huns that destroyed the civilization of Greece and Rome. Always when the Hun absorbs sufficient civilization from his neighbor to make him efficient in the art of war he becomes seized with a military mania, the madness of Thor, and he seeks to destroy the civilized efforts of ages. Replacing nothing he thus plunges the world into darkness and barbarism. He destroyed the Graeco-Roman civilization and the world reverted to utter darkness for four centuries. Then Charlemagne came and there was a renaissance of civilization and law, and literature. Education and the arts again flourished, but after him came again the conquering Hun and then followed another long era of darkness and barbarism.

I rode out in front of the battalion and could just distinguish the dark outlines of two companies. The other two were getting ready and would march two hours later with Major Marshall in command.

With me was the Quartermaster, Captain Duguid, the Adjutant, Captain Darling, the Transport Officer, Captain Jago, and most of the train. We had a little difficulty in getting the men moving. I asked the transport officer the number of vehicles and animals and he told me he had eleven waggons. I rode to the cross roads, halted the regiment and ordered the transport to lead, counting them.

When I ordered the regiment to march, Captain McGregor's hoarse command "Form fours! right! left wheel! Quick March!" from the darkness, set the column in motion.

I took a final look at Lark Hill Camp and Salisbury Plains. The lights here and there on the Downs showed a glimmer of life. We had spent some happy days in the Lark Hill huts, the happiest we had spent in England.

I carried an electric torch in my hand and led the way. There was a slight frost that made the muddy road better for marching. The adjutant rode ahead to look after the transport, and Sergeant-Major Grant strode at my saddle bow. My horse kept dancing all the way on his hind legs, as if he too was glad to leave and anxious to be over in France. Soon in the distance ahead gleamed the lights of Amesbury, and after a while tall firs closed on either side of the road as we passed the gates of the Manor House of Amesbury.

These gates were built over a hundred years ago and were designed by a celebrated architect Inigo Jones.

In an hour we were at the station. As we approached I rode ahead into the station yard and found that our train had not yet arrived. The regiment marched on the entraining platform, and on looking over the transport I found that my spare riding horse, which was lame and carried my saddle bags, had been left behind on the roadside. I sent Private Gold, one of my orderlies, back to look them up, with instructions to bring them along with the second half of the regiment.

Our train was half an hour late, but when it backed in it did not take us long to load. The English open cars are coupled up close, and the open waggons that take our transport are all loaded from the end of the train the way circus waggons are loaded in America. We entrained horses and waggons in forty minutes. We startled the train people so that they all came to see me when we had finished to tell me how fast we had loaded. The railway transport officer came to my compartment and told me that he had been loading troops for four years there and he had never seen such a fast clean piece of work.

We had to sit for fifteen or twenty minutes before the train moved, as we were ahead of time. Our destination had not been given us. It was very cold in the compartment as there was no steam available, but the train rushed along, and soon we were in Salisbury. On we went west. Fortunately a long course of travel in Canada had given me the habit of sleeping sitting in my seat, and I took advantage of it. At dawn I woke up and found we were nearing Bristol of which Avonmouth is the seaport.

We arrived at our port of embarkation about seven in the morning. The green fields glistened with hoar frost and the distant hills seen through the haze were covered with snow. Through the gaps of the hills here and there could be seen the mounting flames of great blast furnaces. This is the region of coal and iron.

When we reached the station we could see the harbor filled with transports waiting to carry our Division to France.

I disembarked and asked for the R.T.O. who is the official in charge of the handling of the troops. I found that he was uptown having his breakfast. We had to wait about fifteen minutes till he arrived. Then he was apologetic and said he did not expect we would be on time. He then got busy calling for a fatigue party to unload the transport, but after he had blown off a little steam I pointed out to him that the fatigue party was waiting at the head of the column, and had been waiting for him for a quarter of an hour, and that they wanted to be shown to the unloading platform. Then he took a tumble that we "knew our job," and from that time on sugar could not have been sweeter. He told us that our transport was the Mount Temple, and showed me the ship, and in a very few minutes we had the men on board. They soon got busy and had the waggons slung into the hold. We found that on the evening before the five-inch gun battery and one unit of an ammunition column under Major McGee had gone on board. They had stowed the big guns in the lower hold, and they had enough lyddite stowed forward to insure a perfectly good explosion provided a submarine plugged us with a torpedo. Our adjutant and the steward soon had us in our cabins.

A couple of hours after we embarked Major Marshall came along with the left half battalion and reported a very successful entraining. The railway company, however, had provided a train with one coach too few, and four horses and eight mules had to be left behind to be brought by the next train. They were in charge of Sergeant Fisher, my transport sergeant, who was a very good man, one of my best non-commissioned officers. Sergeant Gratton, who had been my transport sergeant, took ill before we left Lark Hill. He had to be left behind eating his heart out like a lot of other good officers; non-commissioned officers, and men that I would have liked to have had with me, viz., Lieutenant Davidson, who had bronchial trouble and a bad knee, Lieutenant Lawson had bronchial trouble and a bad throat. Captain Marshall had pneumonia, Lieutenants Campbell, Kay and Wilson each had a touch of pneumonia. Lieutenant Art. Muir was recovering from bronchial pneumonia. Capt. Musgrave and Lieut. Malone, good steady officers, had to remain with the base company. Lieutenants Acland and Livingston had been sent several weeks before to help drill "Details" and reinforcements for the British troops in France, and they were both at Falmouth working hard putting some polish on the English Tommies. I wrote General Alderson before I left, asking him to let me have Lieutenants Acland and Livingston back, but got "no" for an answer. They were sent to Falmouth while I was in Glasgow at New Year's. If I had been in Camp I would not have parted with them.



We got through loading early in the afternoon and later on the mules arrived in charge of Sergeant Fisher and were safely tucked on board. I had a little trouble keeping people off the dock who were intent on handing liquor to my men.

We were pretty well crowded up and I was informed that this ship had been wrecked once, but the good old C.P.R. flag was floating at the mast head and we took that for an omen of good luck, and it was. During the afternoon I told the men off to the life-boat stations and received the cheerful information that the ship was short a few life belts. I intended to have carried an inner motor cycle tube for my personal use, but forgot to take it along, so would have had to take my chances on a hen coop or a hatch if anything had gone wrong.

The men were in great good humor. They were singing like larks. Some of them had left newly married wives at home in England. One at least, one of my best men, was too much married as he had left two wives behind. He had joined the regiment in Toronto and had given his separation allowance to a wife in Paisley. When we got to Salisbury another woman wrote from Glasgow saying she was his wife and claiming the allowance. In an unfortunate moment he had taken a trip to Paisley and wife No. 1 had pounced on him while he was visiting wife No. 2 and there was a scene. She wrote to me threatening to have him arrested for bigamy. I saw this would not do as there were three interests demanding satisfaction. First, there was his duty to the King. It had cost a lot of money to train him and bring him so far. He would be no use to the King in gaol for bigamy and would be only a further expense to the country and a good soldier would be lost to the service. So I suggested to Wife No. 1 that she leave him alone till after the war if he gave her an assignment of his pay of twenty dollars a month. Like a sensible Scotch woman she saw the wisdom of Solomon in my suggestion and accepted it. Wife No. 2 received the separation allowance and the King got the services of a first class soldier and all three interests were satisfied.

We embarked for France with not a dozen men in the regiment with entries on their conduct sheets. A better behaved lot of men it would be hard to find. We had succeeded in instilling in them the iron discipline of duty which was to prove better than the discipline of fear. It was Napoleon who said, "Show me the regiment that has the most punishments and I will show you the regiment that has the worst discipline." He was right.

We sailed during the early hours of the morning. I got up early and after some breakfast went on deck. Colonel Burchall Wood of the Divisional Staff had joined us on the previous afternoon, and as he was my senior officer I reported to him, but he said he preferred to be my guest and for me to take command. The Captain who was a Welshman named Griffith told me he wanted a guard of fifty men fore and aft with loaded rifles to look out for submarines. We also mounted two machine guns on the bridge so we pitied the submarine that would come along. The Mount Temple could make ten knots in calm weather and the Captain told me that he intended, if a "sub." showed up, to go for it full tilt and run it down.

By ten o'clock we were well out in the British channel. The Welsh Hills were covered with snow and it was a delightful day, hardly a ripple on the surface. Two destroyers, Numbers "1" and "2," kept doing "stunts" back and forward ahead of us all day.

Before dealing with France or anything further, I desire to say that the Canadian Ordnance Officers were very hard worked and had to make "bricks without straw." The death of Colonel Strange made a vacancy which should have gone to Captain Donaldson, a Canadian, my Quartermaster, and no better or more experienced officer ever served the King.

A British officer, however, was called in to do the work. The difference between a British officer of the old school and the Canadian is that when the former is confronted with some work he says, "I'll call my man," that is a non-commissioned officer with a "red tape" training, to do the job. The Canadian takes the responsibility himself and sees that the matter is attended to.

The first evening was bright and clear and I tried my field glasses on the stars. The Captain told me the barometer was falling and that we were likely to have a change of weather.

The thirteenth is generally a tough day with everybody and this was no exception. I was aroused shortly after daylight by a loud noise, the banging of furniture and the sound of dishes rattling. Sure enough we were having a storm. The first officer was in the hall. His room was opposite to mine and he was trying to get in, but the drawers and chairs in his room had piled up against the door. I asked him what was wrong and he said he wanted a surgeon as he had hurt his leg. One of the boats had got loose and while fastening it he had his leg jammed. The boat had been carried away. The ship was going like a pendulum, swinging nearly forty-five degrees every jump. One minute I looked down on Major Marshall who was in the top bunk over on the opposite side of our cabin, the next minute the curtains on his bunk hung straight over my head. Then the ship would take a turn and stand on her head, and the roar of the screw told us there was still plenty of steam in the boilers. Then the screws would submerge and the shock would send a shiver all over the ship. We were in the "chops" of the channel all right. It looked as if the storm would get us if the submarines did not. I told the first officer that the doctor was in a room in the sick bay, and he was helped away limping along the deck. Captain Frank Perry came along as cheerful as a morning in June. He was Officer of the Day and a first class sailor. He came to my room to report that there was a big gale outside, that the men were all right, very few sick, that an artillery horse had broken out of his stall and that he was down and likely dead; also that the waggons were loose in the hold forward with one or two waltzing around. While he was telling this he had to sit on the floor of the cabin. He had split his oil cloth coat up the back, and a stray door speeding the parting guest had slammed on a very tender part of his body, making it difficult for him even to sit down. I laughed till my sides ached.

The admiralty stevedores had stowed the waggons in the hold and a mess they had made of it. I asked him if the big guns were lashed down, fearing that if one got loose in the lower hold it would go through the side of the ship like paper. He assured me that the big gun lashings held, and I ordered him to get a fatigue party and get baled hay and dump it among the waggons to stop the riot, then to lash the waggons. He departed on his errand.

The steward brought me in some Bovril and biscuits, and Major Marshall, who also kept to his bunk on my advice, began feeding upon hard tack to get into trench practice. Bye-and-bye Perry came back and reported that Sergeant McMaster had fallen and broken his arm. Capt. MacLaren was up and he was a good surgeon and hastily set the injured limb. The sergeant had fallen and struck his elbow on the iron deck. The men were all wearing their English boots with heavy iron nails in the soles and they did not hold well on a steel deck. I took a few looks out at the sea and it was a daisy. I saw the Captain who came in and reported very bad weather, but he hoped to clear Cape Ushant. Captain Perry reported that the ship was making about half a knot an hour sometimes, sometimes not making anything, wouldn't steer, and half the time in the trough of the sea, if there was any trough to be found, for a cross gale had turned the sea into pyramids. He also informed me that everything had been made fast, that the men were cheerful and that there were no German submarines in sight, and the storm continued with terrible violence all day. The destroyers had sped as soon as we had left the British Coast. Several times during the day the ship took to her beam ends and the crew thought she would not come back, but she did. I took a bite in bed and stayed there all day. Perry looked after the rations and feeding of the men.

I woke up about seven the next morning and still the ship was swinging. Captain Perry came in to say that they had made a good night, another boat had gone by the board and also a bit of the rail. The horse belonging to the artillery was dead. About nine o'clock I got up, and at ten went the rounds of the ship and saw the Captain who told me we were bound for St. Nazaire in Western France. This place had been used as a British base before the retreat of the Germans from the Marne.

The weather moderated during the day, and on going the rounds I found the men cheerful and that most of the horses had been moved into the centre of the ship which was some improvement. My horses were all well except the big mare whose leg still gave her trouble. In the afternoon the sun came out and it got so warm that we could go about without overcoats. We were 300 miles south of Salisbury Plains. No wonder the swallows follow the summer. We were not as low yet as the latitude of Sault Ste. Marie. What would it be when we got to the latitude of Toronto?

During the day several ships passed us going in the opposite direction. They were all tramp or troop ships. I forgot to say that the first day out near the Irish Coast we saw a great three-masted full-rigged ship in the distance. She was a magnificent sight with all sails set. What a great sight a fleet of these sailing vessels must have presented in the days of Nelson. Now ships only showed low black platforms and smoke stacks. No novelty nor romance about them.

In the evening the Captain said we would soon see the light houses on the French Coast. As soon as it became dark we could see in the sky the double flashes of a great light at Belle Ile forty miles away. This is one of the most wonderful lights in the world. The sea was still high, but we were making good time. The Captain told me we would not make the harbour till the following afternoon at four o'clock when the tide was up. We came into the estuary of the Loire and halted, waiting for a pilot. Then the ship began to roll in earnest. I was up on the bridge with the signalmen, and one minute we were up in the air and the next the black sea yawned beneath us. I had my sea legs by this time. There were two or three lights bobbing about and a very powerful lighthouse light cast a baleful gleam every five seconds. The officer of the deck said we were about twenty miles from our destination and that we would hardly get in until after four in the morning when there was high tide, and if not then, not until the afternoon. Bye-and-bye we saw a light bobbing up and down in the swell and he said that was the pilot. He missed the ship the first round but came about to lee, and in the dim light we saw a cockle shell of a boat with two men in it. In a few minutes a line was thrown to them, the ladder was let down over the rail, the pilot grasped the rungs and began his perilous climb. He was a French sea dog and hung on like grim death and managed to get on deck safely. He went into the wheel house and I went to bed.

I got up early the next morning to see what was doing. I learned that they were going to move the ship to the docks before noon and that we would start disembarking right away. The river Loire was in flood and no tide was necessary to give a sufficient depth of water.

It was a glorious morning and pretty soon we were on the quay. It was a typical French sea port, not very prepossessing, but a busy place. French soldiers of all kinds were about, some on duty, some with their arms done up in slings, some of them apparently loafing. About noon two puffing tugs got us through the lock and tied up to a wharf. A Canadian transport officer and admiralty man came on board. We were told as soon as we were ready we could start unloading, and as soon as the "brows" (the sloping platform or gang planks for the horses) were in place we could start taking off the horses. It did not take us long getting ready. Pickets were put out on the quay and various fatigue parties manned the horses. My big mare was pretty lame but my other horse was in good shape. We had escaped the perils of the Bay of Biscay and were now in Western France. Towards evening I asked the transport officer what time we would take the train, as we had been told we were to go up country. He said that as soon as we had unloaded he would be able to tell me, as he would then order a train from the French. I then learned that the French had a wonderful system of moving troops. When you want to move troops in France you tell them and they supply you a certain number of box cars, a guard van, an officer's car and a certain number of cars to handle your men, horses and waggons. They tell you what time you are to move out, and you have to be ready to the minute. If you have not finished loading, the train moves just the same. There is no fussing among the French, but a deadly efficiency in all things.



CHAPTER XII

"SOMEWHERE IN FLANDERS"

Bah! Ba! Ba! Ba-a-a! Moo! Mo! Moo! M-o-o-o! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ba-a-a-a!

I was taking a stroll along the railway platform of a station in Northern France where the engine stopped to coal and water when this chorus of barnyard calls burst from the men packed in the box cars, reminding me of a cattle train. When they saw me halt and turn in astonishment there was a roar of laughter.

"I'm very sorry men, that you are so crowded."

"That's all right, Sir," came back the cheery answer, "that's what we are here for."

No wonder they thus amused themselves, for they had been travelling two nights and a day on the way to the front, and the accommodation; Well! only those who have been there can tell about or realize it.

The French do move troops in a wonderful manner. Each train is made up of a certain number of box cars, flat cars and passenger cars. Into a passenger car of the compartment kind the officers and staff are jammed, eight in a compartment. On the flat cars the waggons, guns and vehicles are run and lashed, and into the box cars the men and horses are crowded. On each box car there is painted the legend "Cheveaux 8, Hommes 40," which being translated means that the capacity of the car is eight horses or forty men, and we had to put 40 men into each box car which crowded them so that only eight men could lie down at a time while the rest stood up. It was thus a very trying journey, but the men did not grumble. They had to stand 48 hours of this and did it without a murmur.

They expected greater hardships than this when they got to the front, and as a poor shattered warrior said to me later on when I clasped his hand and regretted his terrible wounds, "Don't you mind, Colonel. That's what we came over here for."

When we landed we were told to march for the train at seven in the evening, and we were ready to the minute. We marched silently through the streets of Nazaire, and in a quarter of an hour we were at the station. We found the train all ready, but no crew, no conductor, no engine. An official at a water tank told us that the crew and transport officer were at the cafe dining. They came along presently and we started loading. Barnum & Bailey's circus never loaded a train as fast as we did that one.

When we were loaded I was handed my train orders and a big yellow ticket on which was marked the halts and times to eat. We had at least a twenty-four hour run ahead of us. I was told that when I got to Rouen we would get further orders. We carried three days' rations, so I climbed into my compartment, and was soon asleep. I woke shortly after the train started to find we were travelling through a big city along the banks of the River Loire. We halted about seven in the morning to feed and water the horses and make tea for the men in their dixies or oval camp kettles. It is rather a serious business looking after a thousand men and over sixty horses and mules, but our organization stood the test well. My Quartermaster, Captain Duguid, knew his work. I had Lieutenant Dansereau as our scouting and interpreting officer. He was a graduate of the R.M.C. and a good officer.

It is a beautiful country but not really to be compared with Western Ontario. Many large chateaus with square doleful looking windows were passed and hillsides covered with vineyards. We were on red clay, soil like that of Devonshire or Niagara. The landscape is punctuated with windmills, most of them old and without sails. At noon we came to Le Mans, a large railway centre, only about forty miles from Paris. We then turned west for Rouen. We stopped at La Hutte for dinner. It was a small wayside station with several large switches. There was an English officer at the platform. The place was right in the country. He informed me that he enjoyed his stay there very much, but that rural France was not like Paris. He said a transport officer up the line kept calling for the 48th. A beautiful country girl of about twelve years of age came along with a big box of cigarettes which she handed to the men. This was the first demonstration we had had of any kind since we left England. Evidently the people were accustomed to seeing English officers and paid very little attention to us. We were only "Anglaise." During the afternoon when we stopped at towns the streets and approaches to the station were crowded with people. About ten o'clock at night we came to Rouen. This was as far as my ticket read. An officer, however, came on board and took my ticket, but returned in a little while with it and another one, sending us on further. We were in for another night on the train. We were now in old Brittany and back in a chalk country. There was not very much to report the next day. We arrived at Bologne about ten o'clock. The Canadian base hospital is stationed here and I did not think we were going further, but we went on. We also passed through Calais which a noted English Queen said would be found written on her heart. They were certainly giving us a trip around the country. At St. Omar we were told we were to go to Hazebrouck, where we arrived about seven in the evening, and the R.T. Officer who kept asking for us came aboard. It was Lieut. Russell who had sat with myself and officers at the St. Andrew's dinner given at the Queen's Hotel, Toronto, in 1913. He had attended Varsity and knew me and most of our officers. We were delighted to see him again. He told me we had to march out five miles into the country but, if I preferred it, I could stay all night in billets in a new hospital that was in course of erection and was prepared for such use. I chose the hospital, as my men had been standing for two days and nights in box cars. We marched a quarter of a mile through the streets to the hospital, and it did not take us long to get to bed on some straw trusses.

In finding our billets here Sergeant Burness and a piper had dropped through a hole in the floor. Burness was badly hurt and was unable to go any further.

This was the evening of the 17th of February and "it is a strange thing but this regiment has ended most of its big moves on the seventeenth," remarked my orderly room sergeant.



CHAPTER XIII

WITH FIELD MARSHAL SIR JOHN FRENCH

"I am the Commander of the British Army in France," said a thick-set ruddy-faced, grey-haired officer in staff cap and uniform.

"Yes, Sir John," I answered, saluting.

"I have had the pleasure of seeing you and your battalion before in Toronto. Have you all the Toronto Highlanders with you?"

"Yes, Sir John," I replied, "most of them."

Our Brigade was being reviewed by the Commander-in-Chief in a hop yard not far from Caestre.

It was raining as usual. We had not yet been reviewed, from the time we first went to Valcartier, that it had not rained.

"Is your establishment complete?"

"Yes, Sir John. In fact we are twenty over strength, and I am afraid you will 'wig' me for it, but we marched out at night and some of the men in the base company, hearing we were leaving, stole away from their quarters, marched five miles and smuggled themselves into the ranks as we marched out into the darkness."

"You will never be wigged by me for bringing such a battalion as this, a few men over strength. We will need them all. Good luck to you, Colonel." We shook hands, and he started over to review the 16th Battalion.

"I am the Officer Commanding the Second Army," and I was saluting and shaking hands with General Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien. With Sir John French were the principal officers of the British Expeditionary Force.

General Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien I had often heard of and he impressed me more than any officer I had hitherto met. Above medium height, broad-shouldered, with head set square on his shoulders, he seemed the living embodiment of resolution and force. His manner was kind and courteous.

He reminded me that our regiment had sent a detachment to England to the manoeuvres, some years previous, and that he had had the pleasure of meeting some of the officers.

He complimented me upon the fine appearance of the battalion and passed on.

Another officer shook hands. It was Prince Arthur of Connaught.

"Good luck to you, Colonel, and your fine regiment."

Then another officer stopped and shook hands. It was Lord Brooke. He had commanded the Canadian forces at Petawawa the year before when we were there. "I expect to get a command in the Canadians shortly," he informed me. He did. He got a Brigade in the Second Division.

In a few minutes the review was over and we marched back to our billets in Caestre.

Two days before the battalion had marched out of Hazebrouck hospital, leaving a picquet behind to clean up and bring along any stragglers. Thank goodness we were not bothered with many of them, and if it had not been for the bad weather at Salisbury Plains, which accounted for nearly seventy-five good men in the hospitals, we would have had very few weaklings.

We took the main road which turns north from Hazebrouck to Caestre. We were going into billets in the war zone. The place where we were to be billeted was just back of the centre of the line held by the British. East, slightly north, was the famous town of Ypres, due east twelve miles was Armentieres, southwest seventeen miles was La Bassee, south was Bethune, fifteen miles away. East twenty miles, or about as far as Port Credit from Toronto, was the famous fortress of Lille held by the Germans. We were in old French Flanders.

The farmers were ploughing and working in the fields as we marched along the road. The children ran out to look at us. They were all fair and flaxenhaired. It was as peaceful as a Sunday at home, but we were reminded of the war by the trenches running through the fields. The Germans had been here, but left on the big drive from the Marne. The road was a model, made of large stones set about 8x16 inches square and of granite hardness.

Just before we got to Caestre we ran into the Royal Montreal Regiment halted on the road, and I saw a horseman riding along a sideroad waving his hand. He joined us and proved to be Colonel Penhale of the Divisional Ammunition Column, who had been with us on the "Megantic."

I had sent out a billeting officer, Lieut. Dansereau, ahead of us, and when we got within a mile of the town I was joined by General Alderson, who rode Sir Adam Beck's prize winning horse, "Sir James." We rode along for a while and he told me a little about our future programme, just as much as he dared speak about. I rode into the village ahead to find out why we were halted. As I got to the outskirts of the town three horsemen appeared. They were English officers with lots of ribbons on their jackets. We saluted, and as I was going at a good trot, it was only as he passed and smiled and saluted that I recognized His Royal Highness Prince Arthur of Connaught.

When I got into the town I found Captain Pope who had been sent ahead by the Brigadier to divide up the billets among the battalions of the Brigade. My battalion was given the western part of the village. I was interested to know how the billeting would work out. I was put up with a brewer. The brewery was in the back yard. I was shown to my room which contained a large bed, plenty of sideboards and a pair of magnificent bronze lamps on the mantel which were never used.

We very soon got settled down, and mounted a guard and an inlying picquet. We then adopted the plan of making one of the companies furnish the duties every day. One company each day provided all the duty officers, guards, picquets and fatigue parties. This had the advantage that the men are all the time working under their own officers.

On Friday, February 19th, I was sent for to go to Brigade Headquarters. I found Colonel Mitchell of the Toronto artillery there, also the other regimental commanders. Soon a British General dropped in. It was General Campbell of the Ordnance. He was introduced to me and we had quite a chat. He told me that he had belonged to the Gordons, and was so glad we were here. He left, and shortly after another General came in. He told us he was our corps Commander, General Pultney. He had another General with him who sat down beside me and talked for a moment or two. Presently General Alderson came along and then we were told about the review next day.

In the afternoon the Brigadier and I rode out to the field where the review was to take place. There was a quaint old-fashioned churchyard across the road and a brewery further up. Behind us was a Flemish hop yard. This country is full of breweries, broken down wind-mills and hop yards. In the graveyard they said a German Prince was buried. His grave is not marked. The British and Germans had a pretty smart action down the road several months ago. They tell us that six thousand British troops defeated forty thousand Germans and drove them like sheep across the Lye.

We opened the officers' mess in a school room. I tried to keep the officers dining together as long as possible as I knew that as soon as our billets were more open we would have to mess by companies. At this time we were virtually occupying alarm quarters. The men had been behaving splendidly. The inhabitants took to them kindly and of course relieved them of all their spare change. The people of the town are mostly old Flemish. The Flemings have the proverbial long noses, sharp features and have fair complexions. Occasionally a stocky, swarthy individual shows Wallon extraction. Some of the peasants speak nothing but Flemish, which is one of the ancient Gallic languages.

The regiment was up at an early hour next morning and everyone was shaved and cleaned. We had thus far avoided that terrible but famous pest of the soldier that sheds more blood than bullets.

The regiment paraded at the alarm post at ten o'clock. At ten-thirty we marched out and in a few minutes were on the parade ground. We were the first regiment there and were soon formed up en masse facing the town. The officers were ordered to be dismounted and I sent my horses back. Shortly after the Brigade staff turned up and all the Brigade formed up in two lines, the 14th Montreal Regiment on the right, the 13th Royal Highlanders on the left of the first line, our regiment on the right of the second line and the Canadian Scottish on the left. The inspecting generals arrived and were accorded the customary salute. The inspection started with the Royal Highlanders, and I noticed that the General who led was a short chunky man with grey hair. He passed up and down the Montreal Regiment and went back and forwards through it. I expected he would go to the left but he headed straight for me, and I recognized the Commander-in-Chief, Sir John French, as already told.

In the afternoon after the review I met Canon Scott, who had lost (?) his way and had come up to the Front with the troops. I asked him to dine with me at a little Flemish restaurant, and we had an excellent Flemish dinner. The proprietress was a very lively creature. She chattered in French and broken English like a magpie, and flew here and there as lively as if she were on the stage. The Canon said the whole affair was like a scene from a French comedy.

Canon Scott was a well known poet and churchman in Canada. His son was an officer in one of the Canadian battalions, and was subsequently wounded. Canon Scott had volunteered as Chaplain with the First Contingent, giving up a fashionable congregation in Quebec city. I took him on the strength of our battalion from that night.

The men all behaved very well indeed. It had been given out in Divisional orders that several men had fallen out of the line of march for drunkenness, in other regiments, and been shot. The Canadians were all too keen to get to the front for anything like that.



On Sunday, February 21st, I arranged that Canon Scott should preach to the regiment in the morning. We marched out to a green field about a quarter of a mile from the village and formed up in a hollow square. The day was bright and clear, a typical March day in Canada. The ground was very wet and soggy, but the sun shone out bravely. The scene was very impressive. There was no wind and to the northeast of us, about three or four miles away, a terrible battle was going on. The drum fire of the guns shook the earth, and sometimes the good Canon could hardly be heard. He remarked about this unique experience of holding his first service in Flanders within sound of cannon. We sang the hymns quite cheerfully and then he left to attend another service.

I said a few words of thanks to my men, and then we marched back to billets.



CHAPTER XIV

UNDER HIEX SHELLS

"I understand that orders have just arrived at the orderly room that we are to march up to the trenches to-morrow. I guess we will have to close the officers' mess till after the war."

This is the greeting I received from Surgeon Major "Alick" MacKenzie when I rode up to the door of my billet on the 22nd.

I had just been out for a gallop. "Alick," as our officers affectionately called our regimental surgeon, had been sitting on the doorstep surrounded by a group of Flemish children. He was engaged in giving them a lesson in English as I rode up. Wherever we went, the children seemed to recognize a friend in our regimental M.O.

I told him that I was glad we were going to the trenches at last and that we would form a staff mess which would consist of Major Marshall, the adjutant, Captain Darling, the signalling officer, Lieutenant Dansereau, and myself. That evening the officers of the 15th Battalion dined together in the Academy at Caestre, and it proved to be the last time we were all to dine together. We were all in good humor, but there was not much ceremony.

Our orders were that we were to move up nearer to the trenches and take up quarters at the City of Armentieres. Armentieres is about ten miles west of Lille, the famous fortress built by Vauban and besieged and taken at one time by the famous Duke of Marlborough. Previous to the war it was a great manufacturing centre. The line of opposing trenches was about a mile and a half east of Armentieres. We were to march as light as possible, our packs being carried on transport motor trucks. We spent all day getting ready for it as it was to be a hard march along a stone paved road.

Our first march to the trenches began on February 23rd, and it took some time for us to parade. For the first time my regiment did not march on the minute. We were ten minutes late in starting. Then I halted five minutes to let the transport catch up. Three hundred pairs of rubber boots had been issued to us the night before and we had to pile them on the waggons which caused delay.

Two miles up the road General Alderson stood waiting for us to go past. Each platoon was called to attention, and the officers saluted. The General was apparently highly pleased. Near the village of Fletre General Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien and his staffs were waiting for us. He marched with us on foot for a while, and complimented me on the appearance of the regiment on the march and wished us good luck.

At the village of Fletre General Pultney and General Turner, V.C., with their respective staffs, were waiting. We gave them the customary salute, and later on in the afternoon General Pultney sent word to me that one of my officers had saluted him with a stick in his hand, and that two of the men had failed to remove their pipes when called to attention.

We recognized General Pultney as having what we called "class" and we were delighted that that was all the criticism we had evoked.

The march came to an end about half past three. We soon found our billets. It was a stone block paved road all the way. The men had on new English boots with iron nails in the soles and the hard smooth stones made the walking very hard. It was the most trying march the regiment had. Putting the packs and great coats on the waggons had caused great confusion. The men on reaching town found their packs and coats all mixed up and it took several days to straighten them out. The men would never be allowed to part with their great coats and packs again if I could help it, unless they are going into action.

On going into billets, with the trenches only a mile and a half away, we learned some new wrinkles and it is a blessing we were now in double companies.

Our platoon commanders were ordered to go to the trenches that night to learn something. It was to be their baptism of fire. They came back to my orderly room at ten o'clock after going the rounds and dodging a lot of German bullets. I was to go in on the 26th with Colonel Levison-Gower of the Sherwood Foresters who had called and said he would take me around and show me what to do when my men were in the trenches.

Our orderly room was in a fine house. We had good cooking facilities and two women to look after the meals. Our orderlies had only to look after the kits. The number of the house was thirteen and we came here under gun fire on the 23rd. That meant bad luck to the Germans.

Armentieres was a factory town. They made linen chiefly and there are several large weaving mills. The people were very friendly and cheered us along the way. We met a lot of English soldiers, the Westminsters, the Yorks, the Durhams and Sherwoods. They had been fighting here since early in November and were rather "fed up" on the trenches as they describe it. The Toronto Regiment was up here and were full of ginger, they told us. Outside of being a little too eager to let off their ammunition, the Canadians were declared to be first class troops. We are at the point of a small salient that sweeps east in the German line towards Lille.

That famous city was only about seven thousand yards from our trenches, well under our cannon fire.

The next day I had lunch with Colonel Levison-Gower of the Sherwood Foresters. They were quartered in a magnificent chateau owned by a French cavalry officer who was married to the heiress of the place. She owned most of the factories. The town was shot full of holes, about one house out of every ten having been peppered with shell fire. The British had some big guns there. One half of my battalion was to go into trenches one night, and the other half went the next night. I warned the officers against any foolishness or bravado. I could hear the rattle of rifle and machine-gun fire and I tried to sleep. The billets we occupied were the finest we had lived in so far. I had a good coal fire in my room. Some devilish battery commander kept pounding away all night. Every ten seconds his blighting guns would go off and rattle the windows. Major "Billy" Marshall slept in the next room, and his snore told me he was dreaming of Paardeburg, Poplar Plains and battles of South Africa. A few days before we left England his horse had slipped and rolled over on him, lacerating some of the ligaments of his hip and rendering him virtually unfit for duty. He could hardly walk or ride, and should have been put in hospital, but he pleaded so hard with MacKenzie and I to let him go, and forget that he had been hurt, that he was passed as fit for duty. He was a brave, keen soldier.

February 25th was my birthday and it was the first day that the regiment I had helped to organize twenty-four years before went into action. I hoped it would be a fortunate day and that none of my officers or men would be hurt. Trench work is bad, and gun shot wounds there are usually fatal as they are generally in the head. I spent an excellent day and in the evening the Staff had a little dinner for me. I telephoned Brigade Headquarters and found out that up till noon none of my men had been hurt. They had been told off with the British soldiers and mixed up so they would learn the work.

While we were at dinner the first of the officers that had been in the trenches came in. This was Lieutenant Barwick and he reported no casualties in his section. He was as cool as a cucumber. He was followed by Captain McLaren and Lieutenant Bickle. Then Captain McGregor came in and reported for his company. In a few moments I got a note from Major Osborne saying his men were all right so that the first day was a fortunate one. I thanked God that it was so, and the officers were as cheerful as if they had been at a ball game and had won it. They said they had put several German snipers out of business. They drank my health in cocoa and we all hoped that my next birthday would be spent at home with all the officers and men with me safe and sound.

It is wonderful how careless of danger people become. In the afternoon while I was out riding the Huns started shelling the station and town. Half a dozen British Howitzers 9.2 inch guns started to reply. The German high explosive shells, or "Hiex" as they were called there, were falling five or six hundred yards off, still the children were playing in the street and a bunch of little girls were skipping with a rope. That night there were several outbursts of rifle fire, and it sounded very much as if an attack was taking place in the section of the trenches held by the Royal Montreal Regiment.

When we got up the next morning the sun was shining very brilliantly. A big British naval gun had opened fire on the German lines, and overhead two aeroplanes were sailing about directing the fire of the naval gun. The Germans had opened fire on the aeroplanes with anti-air craft guns, and their shells were bursting high in the air in white puffs like Japanese fireworks. We took our field glasses out to the square in front of our billet and could follow the course of the air craft quite plainly. After each one of our shells fell the plane would shoot a rocket as a signal. The German air craft shells fell hundreds of yards short. The aeroplanes soon rose to such a height that the German guns quit firing on them. The British naval planes were beautiful large craft. On the frontier we had already established air preponderancy and were also doing well now with our artillery.

About five o'clock Colonel Levison-Gower sent a guide to take me to the ruined Chateau near the trenches where he had his headquarters. Captain Darling and Major Marshall and Surgeon Major MacKenzie accompanied me. We took our horses as the Chateau was about two miles down the road. The road wound along like a serpent with about every second house on either side blown up with shell fire or the walls peppered with rifle bullets. The British guns were growling on either side. This is an old historic road. Many a time William the Silent, Count Alva, and the great Marlboro galloped along it. Lille, the great masterpiece of fortification designed by Vauban, is only a few kilometers further on. We were beginning to think and calculate now in kilometers. After a smart trot of about twenty minutes we came to a coal yard on the left side of the road. We had passed a number of batteries of heavy guns in position ready to open fire.

It was a beautiful evening. The moon was in its first quarter and there was every prospect of a bright night. At the wood yard we were told to stable our horses, and pretty soon we were struggling along the muddy paving stones on our way to the Chateau. We had on one side passed a small cemetery that had been set aside for the British and Canadian soldiers shot in the trenches. I should have said that just before I left, word had come in that Private Ford of "H" Company had been shot in the thigh. This was our first casualty. A bullet struck a British soldier of the Westminsters in the shoulder and cut into Ford's thigh, failing to go through. Ford was a fine brave man. He and another chum came over from the Edmonton Regiment just before we left Lark Hill. He asked to be allowed to join the 48th, and as he was a very likely chap, with a clean conduct sheet, I said, "come along." He was steward of the Edmonton Club and joined at the outbreak of the war. He was hit in the thigh, and the fact that he was wearing the kilt greatly facilitated the bleeding of his wound being stopped. He had two small arteries cut, but the first aid dressing which he carried was soon tied over the wound and the hemorrhage ceased.

It was still light when we got to the Chateau. Colonel Levison-Gower welcomed us into what was originally the kitchen, where a beautiful range decorated with tiles made the room look very cheerful. Several of his officers were there having tea, and I was offered a cup which I accepted. We sat around waiting for darkness. It was going to be a moonlight night, just the night for sharpshooters, but we had some good sharpshooters of our own out in front of where we were going, and we felt that not even a hare could get through the lines. When it became dark Colonel Levison-Gower said "get ready," and began putting on his togs. He wore an old Burberry coat with the skirts cut off, heavy trench boots, a slouch British cap and armed himself with a long pole, in other words a stable broom handle. He gave me one and said, "This will help you to find a footing in the trenches." We started out the front door of the shattered house, turned to the right past the driving shed where a sentry sharply challenged us. It was one of those moonlight nights with a bit of a haze making objects indistinct and exaggerating them. We started out across the fields towards the trenches. There was plenty of light to see our way across several ditches. The ground was perfectly flat and the outlines of several pollard willow stubs, with a bundle of small branches growing out of them, etched themselves on my memory.

"Ware wire," said the Colonel, who walked ahead to show the way. I ducked a field telephone wire strung between trees.

"Ware wire," he said again, and I found we were making our way between barbed wire entanglements.

"These are the breastworks," he said, pointing to ghostly heaps that loomed on either side. "We line them every night, they furnish our support."

Several wet ditches were jumped by the aid of the broom handles we carried. The ditches in Flanders are exceedingly deep and the gunners find much trouble in negotiating them.

The Colonel pointed out a line of shelter trenches his men held on the first advance. They held these trenches where they "dug themselves in" on the first night they won this ground. A little further on we came to small holes dug in the beet field.

"Here is where they did some digging that afternoon." "They are pretty shallow fire trenches, barely deep enough to give cover to a man." Pretty soon a shadow loomed up ahead of us. "This is our first line of trenches," he said.

The line of trenches proved to be a wall of mud, willow hurdles and sand bags; in reality two walls. I followed him down a short bit of zigzag ditch or communicating trenches and found myself in the trenches that will go down to history, the famous trenches of Flanders.

It would require the pen of a Dante to picture this inferno. Day and night, night and day the rifles were cracking like the sound of a big rifle match on the ranges at home. Two lines of parapets, for there are really very few trenches, wind sinuously over the country from the sea to the Alps. These parapets are about the height of a man, and run in zigzag fashion. Here and there where the wall is specially built a dugout is constructed that will hold four or five men. In these huts the men cook and sleep during the day.

At night they come out like moles digging or straightening their defences or else running saps towards the enemy. Here and there along the line about every hundred feet a machine gun position is built into the wall. These positions are not disclosed. The sharp "chop" of the Ross Rifle, the hoarser report of the Lee Enfield and the double cough "To hoo" of the German Mauser made it impossible for any conversation to go on except at very close range. Now and again an eighteen pounder would crack wickedly in our rear and its projectile went screaming overhead down to the rear of the German lines to keep the supports and reserves in their "funk holes." Now and then a German bullet would strike the edge of the parapets in our front and ricochet with a wicked note overhead. The air was filled with a swishing sound as if thousands of swallows were passing overhead. Down the line of the trenches we went to the right, then back to the left. The new relief were going in and manning the parapets. Manning the parapets means standing in a recess built into the wall of the parapets on the side away from the enemy. At stated periods during the night the men man or line the parapets ready for an attack. "Tut tut tut," sung out a German Maxim and a shower of the bullets swished uncomfortably close. "Bir-r-r-r," replied a British Vickers that fires twice as fast, and the German subsided.

Death was sailing about in the air everywhere, but everybody went on with their "business as usual." The Canadians were cool under fire, just as cool as the British Tommy, and violent language and "swank" was very little in evidence. After inspecting the line we walked back across the turnip field in the fitful moonlight to the ruined Chateau.

"How is it all going to end?" I asked Colonel Levison-Gower.

"We will have to break through when the time comes," he said, "and we can do it if they give us support."

The total losses in his corps since he came over in September has been over fifteen hundred. Very few of the original battalion remained. I forgot to say that in the trenches we met Captain Street, son of the late Judge Street of Toronto. He had been distinguishing himself as a very brave man. He had been caught out the day before in front of the trenches on the devil's strip with a scouting party as a fog lifted and two of his men were wounded. He had his own clothes ripped with the German bullets. He got his men in safe and doubtless will get his decoration. We returned to our quarters, had a bite and went to bed.

On the morning of the 28th word came from the trenches that Private Ferland of my regiment had been struck in the head and killed. Ferland transferred to the 48th at Valcartier. He had seen service in the American Army and Navy and wore a medal for bravery which I understood he had won in the Philippines. He was of French Canadian descent and was a very good soldier. When the time came to man the parapets in the morning he jumped up on the banquette and called to his comrades to come along and not be lazy. He was tall and his head was above the parapet and two bullets caught him, one in the eye, the other in the temple. He was stone dead when he fell. He belonged to Captain Alexander's Company and the Captain felt very badly about him. They took the body out in the evening. He was a Roman Catholic and his nearest of kin lived in Quebec. The next morning the Sherwoods had a casualty. A soldier was shot through the heart by a sniper. There was one consolation, my men claimed they got the men of two patrols of Germans. In one patrol there were six men, and the six went down on the first volley. One got up and tried to make his trench, but poor fellow they were too much for him. It seemed cruel and rather rough, but the Prussians are not sports, they snipe all the time and when a man falls they fire away at his body for hours to make sure he is not "foxing." This war is a game without an umpire or referee.

We buried Ferland at nine o'clock the next morning. Reverend Father Sylvester performed the service which was very simple. The section to which he belonged marched to the little graveyard. Bullets sang over our heads and pattered on the clay tiles of the barn as the simple Latin service of the old church was read. High in the easterly sky a German aeroplane hovered and our guns were making trouble for him.

I rode home and found the regiment, all that were out of the trenches, formed up on Victor Hugo Square ready for church service. Canon Scott, who had accompanied my regiment from Caestre, and who had managed to make his way up from the front in spite of many obstacles, preached a very fine sermon. Eight of my best shots formed the choir.

General Congrieve, V.C., was present and before the service began he instructed me to post a man with a strong field glass to observe if any German air craft approached. After the service he reviewed the regiment and complimented us very highly on our appearance. He said that I had every reason to be proud of the men, and that he had heard nothing but good words spoken of them since they went into the trenches with his men. He invited me to luncheon next day. Late that night, however, I received my marching orders for next day, which precluded the possibility of accepting his kind invitation. I was to go next day to a conference at the headquarters of the Seventh Division, the Guards and the Gordons whose trenches we are to take over shortly. We are to take their places and give them a chance to rest and refit.



CHAPTER XV

THE FLARE-LIT TRENCHES OF FROMELLES

Next day I started out on foot with an officer of each of my companies to go to the headquarters of the Seventh Division. We got a motor bus where the railways cross the Armentieres road. Our Brigadier and Staff were all there, and we rode out to a big farmhouse where the conference was held. As we went along the road we could hear the Maxims going like air rivetters. The Germans were shelling Armentieres which has been shelled again and again. They threw two shells a couple of blocks away from where I was quartered. When the Germans start shelling the people take to their cellars. The Germans are great on killing children. Priests are also a specialty of theirs. At the last town where we were quartered they were being run out by the English, and they wanted the church tower for a machine gun position. They asked the Cure, an old man, for the keys of the church tower and he refused to give them up to them. He was at once taken out and shot. They broke into the tower and cut a Scottish battalion up pretty badly with their machine guns, but a Scottish sergeant of the battalion made his way into the church, climbed the tower and surprising the Germans bayoneted them all single handed. He was decorated for this brave act and the shooting of the priest was thus avenged.

We considered it a very great honor for our regiments to relieve the Guards and Gordons. The people at home in Canada would thus understand that in spite of bad weather, sickness and other difficulties that made us leave over one hundred and forty men of the battalion in the hospitals in England, that our hard work, drill and discipline had not been in vain. We had learned a great many lessons and the men now drilled and moved like regulars. In fact, the British had no regiments there that were smarter, for to tell the truth they had found the trench work very trying. I desire to give every praise to my officers. They had their work up perfectly, and the men as a result gave me very little trouble. On parade the men stood like a rock. The captains and other officers had the knack of getting along with them which makes for the best of discipline and prompt obedience born of respect. There were many regiments there, good ones, but there was very little fault to be found with ours. No commanding officer was ever better supported by his officers, non-commissioned officers and men.

It was on March 1st, St. David's day, dear to the Welshmen, that I visited the headquarters of the Seventh Division and of the Guard's Brigade, whose trenches we were to take over. We met Colonel Fisher-Rowe of the Guards and had a cup of tea with him. He was a very kindly-mannered man and we took a liking to him. One of his officers, Lieutenant Barry, was to remain with my regiment and initiate us into the mysteries of the flame-lit trenches in front of Fromelles.

The regiment paraded on the morning of the 2nd and General Congrieve and Colonel Levison-Gower were on hand to bid us good-bye. It was a very pleasant march. The day was fine and cool and the men in splendid spirits. We reached Bac St. Maur in the afternoon and went into billets for the night. I was quartered at the Mayor's house. We now began to realize that in Flanders every cross road means a town or village. The men were quartered in a flax weaving mill. Every town in this country boasts a flax mill with numerous weaving and bleaching plants. Many of the factories before the war were owned by Germans. As the German-owned factories are never shelled they make splendid billets for the troops.

We spent one night in Bac St. Maur, and next day we marched to Sailly, taking over the billets held by the Guards. My quarters were in a large farm house. The companies were each quartered at a similar farm and telephone wires were soon laid by our signallers. We took over the living room of the farm house for our sleeping bags, and as straw was plentiful we made some trusses to soften the feel of the red tile with which the room was floored. It was chilly so I ordered a fire to be made in the grate. We had only just stretched out to enjoy the warmth when suddenly there came the report of a rifle followed by a fusillade, and bullets flew all over the place. We at first thought the Germans were upon us, but the scattering of the fire brands all over the room told us that some "blighter" had left some clips of live cartridges in the sweepings of the fire place. The stampede which had followed the first burst of fire died away in roars of laughter. No one was hurt although pieces of cartridge cases had been shot some distance.

While we were in these billets we experienced for the first time the splendid system that had been organized to keep the men of the allied armies clean. Soldiers from time immemorial have suffered from vermin but a new cure has been discovered by some one attached to our column which was soon used universally. The cure is gasoline. One or two applications destroy all living creatures or their ova. Arrangements had also been made so that the men could all have a hot bath once a week. A factory, usually a bleachery, was commandeered and about a hundred large tubs of hot water were provided. One after another the various companies and units were marched to these bath houses. Every man handed in his soiled shirt and underclothing on entering, and received a complete clean outfit after he had performed his ablutions. The only inconvenience attached to this system was that the underwear, shirts and socks were pooled and they sometimes got mixed, and our battalion being comprised chiefly of very large men sometimes had difficulty struggling into their clean underwear.

On Saturday evening, March 6th, we went into the trenches opposite Fromelles at La Cardonnerie Farm which had been the scene of a very warm action in the previous November.

Before we came to Flanders we had been told a great deal about the trenches in the Low Countries. We had seen pictures in the illustrated papers of deep ditches in which men were packed like sardines, so deep that we wondered how they used their rifles. After we arrived at the front our ideas were changed, and we came to the conclusion that the trenches we had seen depicted at home had been dug for the benefit of photographers, and were situated in some nearby park. Certainly the trenches in Flanders were not at all like the photographs we had seen. In addition, the trenches described in "Our Notes from the Front" were the trenches at the Aisne, where the country is altogether unlike the country in Flanders. At the Aisne the soil is chalk and limestone and the country broken and rolling. In Flanders, on the other hand, the soil is sticky, yellow clay, and the land flat with the exception of an occasional sand dune like an inverted pudding dish, at intervals of about ten or fifteen miles apart. Hill 60 was one of these. All over this flat clay country there are countless ditches. The roads are elevated above the level of the fields, and along each road there is a deep ditch or two, while there is sure to be one along each hedge. Water is invariably found at a depth of about two feet. One can therefore quite comprehend how in such a country trenches dug in the form of ditches would be full of water in a very short time.

The trenches in Flanders are altogether unlike our conception of them. Trenches are an evolution, not an accident nor a design. This is how they happen. Our troops will be advancing or retiring as the case may be, and will have reached a point where progress is difficult, either by reason of the resistance of the enemy or the impossibility of the flanks coming up and conforming. Word comes from a higher authority that the men are to "dig in." Every man carries, attached to his waist belt on his back, a small entrenching tool, a "grubber" it is called. This tool is like a hoe, only the blade is pointed like a Canadian railroad shovel, and opposite the blade there is a chisel-shaped pick. The handle, about eighteen inches long, is carried in a sling along with the bayonet and enters the "grubber" at right angles. Immediately the word comes to "dig in" the men get out their entrenching tools or "grubbers" and set to work. They stand at intervals of about a yard apart, make a half turn to the right, lay down their rifles at arm's length, and as they are taught to use the grubber in the prone position, when the ground is favorable they can dig themselves in in fifteen minutes. The trench is dug at an angle of about 90 degrees to the enemy so there will be a clear field of fire in front. Each man places the earth in front of him and digs a hole about two feet wide, six feet long and about eighteen inches deep. These are known as "hasty" or "shelter" trenches. They are the safest trenches to be in when high explosive shells or Mauser bullets are about. If a shell falls it will rarely get more than one man. A little straw in the bottom makes these shelter trenches not uncomfortable at night.

After a battalion has spent a night in the "dig ins," as they are called, it is usual, if no retreat or advance is ordered, for higher authority to send word for the trenches to be "consolidated." That means that more deliberate entrenchments are to be made. "Deliberate" entrenchments in the Low Countries mean parapets, not ditches. "Consolidating" invariably means building parapets. Before a man "digs in" he is supposed to move forward to a position where lying prone he can have a clear field of fire of about one hundred yards in front of him. It will thus be seen that the line of parapets will usually come just in the rear of his shelter trench. At night the engineers send down waggon loads of sand-bags and hurdles. These hurdles are made by driving a number of sharp stakes about two inches in diameter into the ground, the stakes being about four feet high and eight inches apart. In and out between these stakes wire and elm or willow branches are woven basket fashion and the ends are strengthened by a warp or two of wire. When the hurdle is completed it forms a grill-like section of from four to ten feet in length, ready to be set up like a fence by driving the stakes into the ground. Similar hurdles were used at the time of Caesar, so they are not new in this war. In fact such hurdles were used by Julius Caesar in building his camp a few miles east of the Fournes ridge opposite the trenches which we occupied, for it was there he met the Nervli. These hurdles were set up on the side furtherest away from the enemy and the men, being provided with picks and shovels by the engineers, build parapets of earth against them about four feet high and four feet through at the top. The hurdle is fastened into the parapet with stakes and wire, and on top of these parapets are placed three or four rows of sand-bags filled with earth. At intervals among the sand bags steel plates about half an inch thick are inserted. These plates have a hole in them for the rifle to go through, and sharpshooters "man" these port holes night and day. Immediately behind these parapets zigzag trenches about four feet deep are dug. These are called "fire" trenches. When the enemy shell us we get into these deep trenches. When they come to an attack we "man" the parapets. Behind the parapets at intervals are located the "dug outs" where the men sleep and hide in the day time. These are built to accommodate about four men each. They are eighteen inches high, dug into the ground about one foot, then a row of sandbags make a bit of wall. The roofs are sheets of corrugated iron with three or four rows of sandbags piled about four feet high. On top of the earth and sandbags there is generally placed a row of broken brick to cause any shell striking the roof to explode before it penetrates. Behind the parapets are places where the men cook and attend to their wants.



Behind the first row of parapets about two or three hundred yards is a second line of parapets or breast-works with fire trenches. This constitutes the second line or supporting trenches. Behind these again about one thousand yards, with plenty of barbed wire entanglements and a clear field of fire, will be built a line of small forts or redoubts. In the parapets at various intervals are located machine-gun positions hidden so that the enemy's aviators cannot see them.

Two lines of parapets such as I have described with but few variations extend from the North Sea near Nieuport to the Alps, for the Germans build their trenches exactly like ours. Sometimes they run short of sandbags, and at one place where we were they were using blue drill, such as engineer's overalls are made of, for sand bags.

The distance between these two lines of trenches varies; sometimes it is one hundred yards, sometimes two or three hundred, but never more than four hundred yards. This "devil strip," as it is called, is night and day subject to fire from sharpshooters from both sides.

All night long the Germans shoot "flares" into the air. These flares are like rockets filled with magnesium and they show a very brilliant light, so brilliant that objects on the darkest night are brought into prominent relief a mile behind the line of our trenches.

The Germans are prodigal in their expenditure of these flares. We had to husband our supply, but if the lights began to die down a few rounds of rapid fire from our trenches would soon cause them to send hundreds of their flares into the air. The Germans are rather given to "nerves," and while they were cooling down our men read the papers by the light of their flares.

On the evening of the sixth we went into the trenches at La Cardonnerie Farm, which being translated means thistle farm. The trenches were very wet and muddy and my headquarters were located in a ruined farm house about five hundred yards from the trenches. There was a fine row of tall elm trees in front of the house, which offered a splendid target for the German gunners.

We took over the trenches from Colonel Meighen of the Montreal Regiment who had gone into them three days before. In running wires to the various sections Lieutenant Dansereau and Captain Cory had an exciting time. They had to drop flat in the mud several times while the German flares and bullets flew overhead. The left section was taken by Captain Alexander, the right by Captain McLaren and the centre by Major Osborne. The left section was about eighty yards away from the enemy and subject to constant bombing and enfilade fire. The river Layes crossed our line of trenches. What we would call a creek in Canada is called a river in Flanders. Five lines of wire connected us with the various sections of the front. Captain McGregor's Company was in reserve, hidden away in dug-outs. No finer officer ever drew the breath of life than Captain McGregor. Always cheerful and loyal, an experienced soldier of the King, he did credit to his name. There were many McGregors in the army but none braver, more skilful or careful of their men than Captain Archie McGregor, veteran of Paardeburg.

The duties of a commanding officer, and also of company officers while their units are in the trenches, are so strenuous as to leave very little leisure. A great many reports have to be sent to headquarters during the night, and at least once an hour the signallers in the trenches have to report that they are awake. Every burst of rifle fire, every bomb explosion, has to be reported, and any unusual happenings explained. It soon becomes the usual thing to throw one's self down on an old mattress, tuck a blanket over you and take forty winks.

It did not take us very long to get into the swing of things and become quite at home. It is a law of the trenches that at night the men must sleep on their arms, that is to say, they must sleep, if they sleep at all, in their greatcoats, clothing and boots, with equipment and ammunition buckled on and rifle in hand, so as to be ready to "stand to" at a moment's warning. To "stand to" means to fall in behind the parapets ready to repel or take part in an attack. In the trenches the men "stand to" at least half an hour before daylight and remain in readiness to man their parapets until half an hour after dawn. Then they are ordered to "stand down."

The first duty of a soldier in a well ordered regiment after he "stands down" is to take out his oil-bottle and cleaning apparatus and clean his rifle. Then he takes off his puttees, boots and socks, rubs his feet to restore circulation, and if he has an extra pair of socks he puts them on, or if not he changes the ones he is wearing from one foot to the other, puts on his boots and puttees again. Cotton socks are very uncomfortable, for when a man stands all day and sleeps at night in his boots, if the socks are made of hard thread, the thread will leave a mark in the feet. Unless the men remove their puttees, boots and socks once a day they are liable to have "frost bite" "cobble feet" or varicose veins. These troubles soon render them fit subjects for the hospital. After the rifle and feet are attended to the men shave. Our men always shaved every day, and were very proud of their clean appearance in spite of the mud. One man was brought before me shortly after we went into the trenches for neglecting to shave. He explained that he had served in one of the South African wars and that on service there he was supposed to wear a beard. I fined him for neglecting to observe the King's Regulations and Orders, and his comrades who had warned him against trying to "put anything over" on the Commanding Officer gave him the laugh. He asked to see me and expressed such regret that I forgave him. He was a splendid soldier and his example made a rule for the others.

Perhaps it will be just as well here to explain the remainder of the daily routine and how the men are fed and cared for. Some time during the night the company waggons, which are kept in billets at the quartermaster's stores, are loaded with food for the men in the trenches. This food, also charcoal, for fuel, barbed wire and other supplies are placed in sand bags, in weights that one man can carry. A fatigue party from each platoon meets the waggons at a convenient spot, and carries their respective sacks into the trenches held by their platoons. A non-commissioned officer from each company remains always in the quartermaster's tent to supervise the preparing of supplies for his company. He sees that the company cooks prepare steaks, soups and other food to be sent into the trenches. He is responsible to his company commander that his company gets its proper share.

The rationing usually begins about eight o'clock, and if you listen you can hear the rumble of the ration waggons in the German lines as clearly as in our own. At this hour there was generally a truce to sniping, but as soon as either side finishes rationing a few rounds of rapid fire warns the other to hurry up and get down to the business of killing.

When the water in the vicinity of the trenches is bad, water waggons are brought down along with the ration waggons, and the men's canteens and a number of dixies or camp kettles are filled with water and sent into the trenches.

Every man, besides carrying a "First Aid" bandage in the flap of his coat, carries a day's "iron" rations in his haversack. An "iron" ration consists of two or three hard-tack biscuits, a package containing tea and sugar, and a tin of what is currently known as "Macconnachie's Rations." This consists of a tin containing about a pound of what would generally be called thick Irish Stew, made of meat, potatoes, green peas, carrots and some condiments. Thank goodness it contains no Brussels Sprouts. Great Britain went Brussels Sprout mad about the time we got over there. Wherever we went, on the trains, in the restaurants we had indigestible Brussels Sprouts.

In the trenches the men make charcoal fires, boil water, make tea and fry their ham or bacon and eggs. Ye gods what eggs they ate. All the hens in Flanders seemed to be busy night and day laying eggs for the Canadian soldiers at five cents an egg.

This is a standard feeding routine for the men in the trenches. The men and officers get the same rations. Often the men fare much better than the officers for they get parcels of food from friends in Great Britain and Canada. The officers are supposed to be millionaires and of course are expected to live like Nabobs. But they do not have anything better than the men.

After the men have cleaned up they gather about the charcoal fire with two or three chums that mess together. Bacon or ham of the best quality is soon sizzling in the lid of a dixie. Frequently some cold potatoes are provided which are sliced in with the ham and the meat ration is ready. There is always plenty of good white bread, which arrived the day before fresh from England. There is tinned butter from Australia, and hot tea with plenty of sugar in it. After the meat they have dessert. Usually a fine tin of jam with more bread and butter. If jam does not suit, or they grow tired of jam, they have honey. What a breakfast for a hungry man. The noon day meal will consist of thick soup, steak or mutton chops grilled on charcoal, potatoes dug from nearby pits in the deserted farms, bread, butter, tea and jam or honey. For supper they had cold meat, cheese, bread and butter, jam and tea. The men seldom grumbled at their food as everything was of the best quality, and they had plenty of work and fresh air to give them good appetites, and with such excellent fare they gain in strength and weight. Many a weak, hollow-chested "mother's boy" has developed in a few months into a rosy-cheeked, bread-shouldered athlete, weighing twelve or fourteen stone.

It was a wonderful sight at night to watch the trenches at Fromelles. As far as the eye could see from the North Sea, away past Bethune and death-stricken La Bassee, streamed the meteor flares like a great Milky Way, the flares crossing and recrossing each other. In front of us the German Mausers sound with their constant "to-ho," "to-ho," for the Mauser has a double report. On the right the wicked bark of the English Lee-Enfield rifles, and along our front and to our left the "chop, chop" of the Ross rifle of the Canadian Division. The Ross has a sound at a distance, for all the world like a lot of men chopping wood in a hardwood forest. No wonder the Germans knew when the Canadians came opposite their sector. Whenever they heard the Ross they generally got an attack of nerves and would fire wildly into the air on the slightest excuse.

I visited the line of the trenches passing from flank to flank the second night we were in them and laid plans with our officers to strengthen the position so as to make it almost impregnable. The first man to be killed in these trenches was Private Stanley, a Toronto man, who was shot through the head while standing behind the parapet at night. He fell dead in the arms of his son. We buried him the next evening at the Canadian Cemetery at La Cardonnerie Farm by the fitful gleam of an electric torch while the bullets and shells whistled overhead.

The Germans were very vicious when we went into the trenches for the first time, but we adjusted our fire so as to enfilade their trenches, that is to say, instead of firing at the trenches opposite we aimed to the right or the left so our bullets dropped behind their parapets. I went along the trenches with a photograph of their position taken from an aeroplane and pointed out to the section commanders the targets and range so as to get in behind the German lines. Sand bags and port holes were adjusted to this new form of fire and orders were issued to open enfilade fire after nine at night, sniping briskly. Some of our men suggested that we must have hit a German General because suddenly the whole German line burst into a sheet of flame and they continued to fire their rifles for all they were worth for about fifteen minutes. After that night the Germans opposite kept very quiet when we were in the trenches. A few days later we heard that General Von Kluck had been wounded opposite our lines. We wondered if we had hit him.

The friends of the regiment at home were kind enough to present our battalion with Khaki Tam O' Shanters which we used in the trenches. They were a splendid headdress and we had very few casualties during our various turns of duty in the front line, which good fortune we ascribed to this headdress. General Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien was very much taken with the "tam" as a trench cap.

On the morning of March 8th, while Major MacKenzie and I were having coffee, the Germans began shelling our quarters. We were in an old brick house on the Rue Pettion and our breakfast was rudely disturbed by several loud reports. One of the orderlies came in to say that German shells were falling in the field in front of the house. We went out to see what was happening. The Germans were firing salvos of four shells at a time and "searching" for my humble quarters. First four shells fell about fifty yards apart about five hundred yards away to the right looking to our rear. Then four more came closer. Salvo followed salvo but a number of the shells failed to explode. After they had raked out our front yard we heard four burst behind our quarters and we knew that the next bracket would get our happy home. It did. Four struck the barn and the quarters occupied by Captain McGregor and his staff fifty feet away from where we stood. We feared that our cows were gone, done to death by miserable Hun gunners. When we took over these quarters the Scots Guards were good enough to turn over three cows in good milking trim to our headquarters. These three cows were all that were left on the farm of a fine herd of brown Swiss cattle. The rest of the herd were scattered about the fields with their feet sticking up in the air, and it was our unpleasant duty to later on bury them darkly at dead of night. We forgot our three milkers for the moment, however, as we heard the whistling of more shells and orders were given for everybody to duck and get under cover. Two shells struck the house and tore about two inches off the tile ridge at intervals of about ten feet apart. They fell in the ditch in front of the house but failed to explode. Four more fell to the right, and then the gunners began to rake back and forward, dropping in all about fifty shells within a radius of five hundred yards. Then they took up another target and we had leisure to examine the damage. Our shack had escaped except for a few broken tiles, the next building south occupied by Captain McGregor had one room blown up, that in which he had his cot. Fortunately he was out when the German visitors arrived. The shell, a four inch high explosive, tore a couple of sandbags out of the back window, and as it apparently had a "delay action" fuse it burst fairly in the middle of the room. There was nothing left of Captain McGregor's cot but a pile of woollen shreds. His trunk and the clothing hanging on the wall were ripped to pieces.

Captain Perry was having a bath in an old fashioned wash tub in the next room when the explosion took place. Nothing happened to him as he bore a charmed life.

Some of the shells that fell into the ditch were dug up by Sergeant Lewis who was in charge of our pioneers. They were four inch high explosives.



CHAPTER XVI

WITH GENERAL SIR DOUGLAS HAIG

When we left the trenches at Fromelles for the first time we took up billets on the Rue Du Quesne. This street was named after a one-time General and Governor of Canada during the French regime. His name is still perpetuated in the great steel works at Pittsburg, U.S.A., along with that of Lord Pitt and Braddock, for it was before Fort Du Quesne that General Braddock fell in 1755. Braddock was one of those unfortunate British Generals who were sent out to command colonials. He would not take the advice of his colonial officers and paid the penalty of his unpreparedness with his life. A comparison of Indian warfare of one hundred and fifty years ago with the war of to-day will convince anyone that the Red Indians on the warpath had nothing on the Germans. They burned houses and killed innocent women and children. For these atrocities they gained unenviable notoriety. The Germans do the same things. Hardly a farm house where we were billeted that did not have the graves of the peaceful occupants in the gardens close by. Men, women and children were destroyed by shell and other implements of war. At Armentieres we were shown Belgian children whose hands had been hacked off, and at the farms we saw old men maimed and with withered arms and legs still bearing the marks of the cords which bound them to trees and posts.