The German High Command had a big surprise to spring on the British Army in France early in 1918. Their preparations culminated in the smashing attack they made in March on the Fifth Army commanded by General Gough. The Canadians lay facing Mericourt beyond Vimy at that time. To our right, covering Arras and beyond, the Third Army, under General Byng was holding, on their right lay the Fifth Army. Before and during their great effort the Germans refused to be "drawn" at Mericourt into any serious retaliation, no matter how often we raided them. We knew why later when General Gough's line went to pieces. The Huns were going to "get us," they believed, in another and more thorough way than by counter-raids.  
It looked for some weeks as if they might realize their hopes. The Fifth Army's formation was broken, and in confusion, they were driven back and back for miles, until with reinforcements they managed to hold only a short distance in front of Amiens. In a few days the British lost, in prisoners alone, 200,000 men. To save themselves from being outflanked the Third Army had to withdraw from a portion of their former line and swing their right wing back facing out. They completed the difficult movement with brilliant success, and presented to the enemy an unbroken front of fighting men, well-munitioned, and supported by an effective artillery fire. This move saved the British forces from what looked like imminent disaster.
 
Byng's men used Arras as their pivotal sector. It was only a few miles from us, and it was with anxious hearts we heard, those days and nights, the ceaseless thunder of the guns on our right, as the terrific struggle continued. It was dismal news too, that came from Belgium. There Mt. Kimmel had fallen, and the British had been strategically forced to evacuate all the ground we had won at such enormous cost around Passchendaele; and this, remember, was the fourth year of the war.
 
Those were fateful days for the Canadians. Our front was quiet, but we were nevertheless in an extremely perilous location. Vimy Ridge was behind us, and behind it again was lower ground which would be hard to hold in a flanking attack by our enemy. Many additional batteries had been crowded in on the Ridge with their silent guns trained on Arras lest the Third Army, which still occupied that town, should be broken and the Germans get through. In that event the Canadian Corps would probably have been cut off by the enemy's advance through the valleys behind us, and our career, as a Corps, would have ended. Certainly we would have sold our lives and freedom dearly, but with lines of communication cut our position would have soon been untenable, and successful retreat probably very nearly impossible. Don't dream that the front-line men were panicky. We knew that millions of brave men were still facing our common enemy and that back of them and us was the indomitable will of our Empire and our Allies. In this connection I recall a conversation between our Col. Urquhart (a thorough Scot), and a visiting officer, in which they referred to the situation at Arras. "It is very serious indeed," said our guest, "for if the British break there, we Canadians are in for our biggest tussle with the Hun." "Do you know," asked Urquhart, "what troops of ours are engaged there?" "Yes," was the reply, "the 15th Division." "Well," said the Colonel, "that is a Scottish Division, and I can assure you, sir, there will be no break at Arras." Nor was there. Those Scottish lads stood firm. Repeated and determined attacks by the finest German troops could not break their front, nor drive them from their ground. The critical days passed, the enemy's progress was everywhere effectually and permanently stopped. Then when we were thoroughly prepared we took the initiative, and in August, the same year, commenced that grand victorious advance which ended the war.
 
Those days we often keenly discussed the situation from many angles. I was in "A" Company's dug-out one time when we were giving our opinions as to the relative merits of some of the different units of the British Army. We got away from the present war into history, and were recalling other famous campaigns and the exploits of the troops engaged in them. Someone said that while Canada, since she became a Dominion, had not had much chance until now to become illustrious in war, yet for forty years she had maintained the finest force of military police in the world, the Royal North-West Mounted. I was proud to mention that my brother had served in that crack organization for thirty years, and from that remark I was eventually entangled in the yarn which I here unravel.
 
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I am the youngest of ten. My two brothers, John and James, were grown up and away from home before I had got beyond infancy. John visited us frequently after I had reached boyhood. James enlisted with father's consent in the North-West Mounted Police, went west and never returned. That force was organized in 1873 and my brother joined them in 1878. When I was a young lad there was no doubt in my mind which was my favorite brother. John was a minister, and ministers were an unknown quantity to a youngster of my age, and so I wasn't much taken with my preacher brother.
 
But it was different with James. He was a soldier and a specially interesting sort of soldier. His business was chiefly, so I thought anyway, to go galloping on horseback across the prairies of our wild west, chasing bad Indians and horse-thieves, and having all kinds of real adventures. How I longed for him to come home! I pictured him, in fancy, riding down our main street in Police uniform, with pistols in his belt and perhaps a knife too, his carbine slung by his saddle, and handling easily a spirited horse! I would then point him out with pride to the other boys as my brother, and maybe, when he saw me, he would come riding over to the sidewalk and speak to me in front of all the other fellows. My boyish heart used to glow as I imagined what might possibly soon come true.
 
The prairies were undoubtedly a very long distance off in those days. There were no rail-ways on them, none indeed to carry you to their outer-boundaries in Canada. Parties of police recruits went down through the United States to Fort Benton or other suitable points, and then came north, mostly by trail, to the Canadian plains. It was a long journey, I knew, but on the other hand mother used to get letters from him, and he would say in them that he might be home for Christmas, a treasured hope. Nearing Christmas mother would be busier than ever in the kitchen, making the cakes and other good things we always had in abundance at that festive season. I liked to be on hand then for ............