Our sojourn in Houdain was short and sweet. The villagers did everything in their power to make us comfortable, and in return the local estaminets were well patronized. The boys of No. 7 platoon who were quartered in a brewery were particularly loath to leave, but a pile of trouble was in store for the Canadians, and it was quite universally known that on the 9th of April the Canadian Corps was to carry out an operation in conjunction with Imperial troops that would result in the immediate departure of the enemy from the summit of Vimy Ridge.
For two years he had looked down into our trenches from the top of that accursed ridge, which had been lost by the French in the early days of the war. He could see the country behind our lines for a distance of about 5 miles, and although every artifice in the dictionary of camouflage had been used to conceal the hundreds of guns which were hauled in, under cover of darkness, for the attack, Mister Fritz could not help seeing something of our preparations. His nerves were certainly on edge, but it was equally certain that he underestimated both the strength and number of our guns and the courage of the assaulting troops.
[20]
To drive him from the top of the ridge we must advance a distance of nearly three miles, uphill, over deep mud and shell holes, and through barbed wire entanglements strung across the front in a way that only Germans with a dread of British steel know how to do. Such an advance, even without a shot being fired from his lines, would be quite an undertaking; and so he sat back in his deep dug-outs around the “Zwichen Stellung,” and smiled at the idea of anyone taking that comfortable home away from him.
This, then, was the situation when we received orders on the 7th of April to vacate our billets in Houdain and take over a series of mud holes on the top of Mt. St. Eloi, called Dumbell Camp.
From this position, which was right on the edge of a wood (Bois Des Alleux), we had a wonderful view of Vimy Ridge, and also made an equally wonderful target for Fritz’s high-velocity gunners, who seemed to suspect, and rightly so, that that wood of ours was a good hiding place for troops. (There must have been at least two Brigades in the vicinity, to say nothing of countless ammunition dumps and big guns.) His shooting was erratic so far as we were concerned, the shells either going over our heads into the Engineers’ Camp or falling short amongst the mud holes of another battalion.
And here we stayed until the morning of the 9th of April, which was the day set for the attack. No definite position among the assaulting troops was assigned to us, the whole of the 9th Brigade being in reserve, but we[21] were told that we would be used to consolidate the captured trenches, and that we might win much honour and glory by conveying ammunition and trench material to the front line, in the event of a successful attack. These little jobs sound rather tame in comparison with honest fighting, but in reality they require just as much skill and courage. Ask any infantry man which he would rather do—go “over the top” or be in reserve and do working parties, and he will choose “going over the top” every time. We had not yet reached the point where we could appreciate these little distinctions, and in consequence were inclined to underestimate the importance of the part allotted to us.
The dawn of the 9th of April, 1917, saw perhaps the fiercest and most scientific artillery barrage of the war (so far) let loose on the German front and support line trenches. Fritz must surely have realized that this was something more than the daily “warm up,” which our artillery had been giving him during the last three weeks, and when its full meaning had sunk into his thick and short-cropped head his feelings must have been far from happy.
The boot was to be on the other foot now, for instead of watching us swimming around in the mud of the Souchez Valley, we were soon to see him flying across the lowland which stretches from the eastern side of the Ridge towards Avion and Lens, with the lash of our shells and bullets around his ears.
From our position we could see only the flash of the[22] guns as it was scarcely daylight, when, like a mighty earthquake, the artillery burst forth, sounding the keynote of the advance to our waiting comrades in the trenches.
Gazing into the smoke and dust, caused by the bursting shells, we vainly tried to picture the drama that had just begun, and many a prayer for success went up from the watchers on Mount St. Eloi that morning.
The attack was evidently progressing, for soon after zero hour, we received orders for one Company to go forward immediately, three platoons to act as carrying parties, and one platoon for wiring in front of some strong points which were to be established by the P.P.C.L.I. The order in which our Companies would be used had been previously decided by ballot, for it goes without saying that all four Companies were anxious to be first—“B” Company were the lucky ones, and under Major Moody, moved out accompanied by a detachment of Engineers under whose supervision the defences of the strong points would be constructed. “A” Company (Major Cooke), “C” Company (Major Currie), and “D” Company (Major Bird) moved out later in the day.
The work by these Companies, acting independently for the first time, deserves the highest praise, and their adventures throughout that memorable day would almost fill a book in themselves. The Sector of the ridge where our Companies were employed had been cleared of the enemy and by the time that No. 8 platoon had reached[23] the new front line around La Folie Farm, the German artillerymen, who up till now had been chiefly engaged in dragging their guns to safety, were searching the top of the ridge in an endeavour to retard the work of consolidation. They must have sighted No. 8 platoon, for no sooner had our men begun work on the wiring schemes than a veritable hail of shells was poured into them. In spite of heavy casualties the work of consolidation was continued and completed, and towards midnight all companies reported in to Dumbell Camp, having lost ten men killed and thirty wounded, including Company Sergeant Major Graves.
The reports from all parts of the line fulfilled the highest expectations, and the prisoners’ cages were crowded beyond capacity, but for the next few days there was to be no rest for anyone until our new line had been so firmly established as to admit of no possibility for a successful counter-attack by the Bosch.
The following day the Battalion furnished parties to assist in the general work of consolidation, and at about 5 o’clock in the evening, orders were received for us to take over the front line from the 8th Brigade, composed of the 1st, 2nd, 4th and 5th Battalions, C.M.R. It looked as if we might get into some of the fighting after all, and with very mixed feelings the inevitable advance party, consisting of 1 officer and 1 N.C.O. from each Company and H.Q., started out in the direction of a certain map location called “Spandau Haus” where the C.M.R. Battalions had established their headquarters.[24] The line of march brought us through territory already well known—Berthonval Farm, La Targette Corners, Goodman Tunnel, Chassery Crater, etc., and further on, through territory fresh with the smell of the Bosch.
It is a very curious sensation to walk boldly across the shell holes, which only recently were called “No Man’s Land,” and over which we had been wont to crawl about with our noses pretty close to the ground. By the time we reached Spandau Haus, night had set in, and to look over the line with any intelligence would be an impossibility. This must have been a very joyous relief to the C.M.R.’s, for they were all dog tired, and to have to more or less instruct a new Battalion in all the intricacies of a newly captured position was asking them a little too much after their experiences of the last 36 hours. This is evidently what Divisional Headquarters thought too, for by the time our party had returned to Dumbell Camp, having carefully marked on their maps all the information possible, it was announced that the relief of the 8th Brigade by our Battalion had been cancelled, and that the 60th Battalion would go forward in our place—shouts of joy, especially by the advance party, who had done ten miles in the pouring rain. Instead, therefore, of holding Vimy Ridge against the now infuriated Bosch, we were reduced to taking over the support trenches soon to be vacated by the 60th, and at dusk the following day, during a heavy fall of snow, these changes were successfully carried out. The Battalion was shelled heavily by 5.9’s just as it reached[25] the old crater line, and had several casualties, including Lt. John Doble, who was killed.
During the next ten days the whole Battalion was engaged in the reconstruction of the Lens-Arras road, between Thélus and Vimy, which had been rendered practically impassable by the recent barrages. This work was both laborious and nerve-racking. Fritz was quite aware that the road was one of our only lines of communication, having used it himself, and consequently he was not going to let us put it into good condition for nothing. Every variety of “hate,” large and small, and generally in series of four, was thrown at that road blocked with mule transport, guns, ambulances, and working parties (chiefly 116th Battalion)? and it is the most extraordinary thing that the work of reconstruction progressed as favorably as it did, and that there were not more casualties.
During this period opportunities were afforded us for looking over the Corps front from the top of the ridge, and for admiring the recent work of our own artillery on the German defences. Whilst reconnoitring the forward positions Lt. W. K. Kift and Lt. H. L. Major both received wounds from which they afterwards died. The laborious work of road-making with its daily toll of casualties continued, until one day, a note from Battalion Headquarters announced that we would not become a fighting unit as heretofore decided, but that we would be made into a pioneer battalion and be attached permanently to the 8th Brigade. All this in the interest of[26] the Corps, etc., etc., etc. We were still “chewing the rag” over this latest development when along came the Colonel himself to announce that all previous orders regarding pioneer battalions had been cancelled, and that it had been definitely decided for us to take over the 60th Battalion. In order to do this with the least confusion possible, we were to be moved back to the Berthonval Farm area, where Fritz’s shells were not likely to disturb us, all of which prophecies excepting the one concerning the shells came true.