And yet a man who was in the midst of it from beginning to end, came out without a scratch. He was a tall chap named Hunter. For twenty-four hours, without interruption, he threw German “egg-shell” bombs from a position at the center of our barricade. He never stopped except to light a cigarette or yell for some one to bring him more bombs from Fritz’s captured storehouse. He projected a regular curtain of fire of his own. I’ve no doubt the Germans reported he was a couple of platoons, working in alternate reliefs. He was awarded the D. C. M. for his services in that fight, and though, as I said, he was unwounded, half the men around him were killed, and his nerves were in such condition at the end that he had to be sent back to England.
One of the great tragedies of the war resulted from a bit of carelessness when, a couple of days later, the effort was made to extend our grip beyond the spot which we took in that first fight. Plans had been made for the Forty-fourth Battalion of the Tenth Canadian Brigade to take by assault the trench section extending to the right from the point where we had established the “block” on our flank. The hour for the attack had been fixed. Then headquarters sent out countermanding orders. Something wasn’t quite ready.
The orders were sent by runners, as all confidential orders must be. Telephones are of little use, now, as both our people and the Germans have an apparatus which needs only to be attached to a metal spike in the ground to “pick up” every telephone message within a radius of three miles. When telephones are used now, messages are ordinarily sent in code. But, for any vitally important communication which might cost serious losses, if misunderstood, old style runners are used, just as they were in the days when the field telephone was unheard of. It is the rule to dispatch two or three runners by different routes so that one, at least, will be certain to arrive. In the case of the countermanding of the order for the Forty-fourth Battalion to assault the German position on our flank, some officer at headquarters thought that one messenger to the Lieut.-Colonel commanding the Forty-fourth would be sufficient. The messenger was killed by a chance shot and his message was undelivered. The Forty-fourth, in ignorance of change of plan, “went over.” There was no barrage fire to protect the force and their valiant effort was simply a wholesale suicide. Six hundred out of eight hundred men were on the ground in two and one-half minutes. The battalion was simply wiped out. Several officers were court-martialed as a result of this terrible blunder.
We had gone into the German trenches at a little after noon, on Saturday. On Sunday night at about 10 P.M. we were relieved. The relief force had to come in overland, and they had a good many casualties en route. They found us as comfortable as bugs in a rug, except for the infernal and continuous bombing at our flank barricade. The Germans on our front had concluded that it was useless to try to drive us out. About one-fourth of the six hundred of us, who were still on our feet, were holding the sentry posts, and the remainder of the six hundred were having banquets in the German dug-outs, which were stocked up like delicatessen shops with sausages, fine canned foods, champagne and beer. If we had only had a few ladies with us, we could have had a real party.
I got so happily interested in the spread in our particular dug-out that I forgot about my wound until some one reminded me that orders required me to hunt up a dressing station, and get an anti-tetanus injection. I went and got it, all right, but an injection was about the only additional thing I could have taken at that moment. If I had had to swallow anything more, it would have been a matter of difficulty. Tommies like to take a German trench, because if the Fritzes have to move quickly, as they usually do, we always find sausage, beer, and champagne—a welcome change from bully beef. I could never learn to like their bread, however.
After this fight I was sent, with other slightly wounded men, for a week’s rest at the casualty station, at Contay. I rejoined my battalion at the end of the week. From October 21st to November 18th we were in and out of the front trenches several times for duty tours of forty-eight hours each, but were in no important action. At 6:10 A.M., on the morning of November 18th, a bitter cold day, we “went over” to take the Desire and also the Desire support trenches. We started from the left of our old position, and our advance was between Thieval and Poizers, opposite to Grandecourt.
There was the usual artillery preparation and careful organization for the attack. I was again in charge of the “mopping up” wave, numbering two hundred men and consisting mostly of bombers. It may seem strange to you that a non-commissioned officer should have so important an assignment, but, sometimes, in this war, privates have been in charge of companies, numbering two hundred and fifty men, and I know of a case where a lance-corporal was temporarily in command of an entire battalion. It happened, on this day that, while I was in charge of the second wave, I did not go over with them. At the last moment, I was given a special duty by Major Lewis, one of the bravest soldiers I ever knew, as well as the best beloved man in our battalion. A messenger came to me from him just as I was overseeing a fair distribution of the rum ration, and incidentally getting my own share. I went to him at once.
“McClintock,” said he, “I don’t wish to send you to any special hazard, and, so far as that goes, we’re all going to get more or less of a dusting. But I want to put that machine gun which has been giving us so much trouble out of action.”
I knew very well the machine gun he meant. It was in a concrete emplacement, walled and roofed, and the devils in charge of it seemed to be descendants of William Tell and the prophet Isaiah. They always knew what was coming and had their gun accurately trained on it before it came.
“If you are willing,” said Major Lewis, “I wish you to select twenty-five men from the company and go after that gun the minute the order comes to advance. Use your own judgment about the men and the plan for taking the gun position. Will you go?”