And so the lads were restless. Very often, when the wind was favorable, large enemy toy-balloons floated high over our lines, and as the long piece of smouldering hemp attached to each balloon burned up to a knotted cord, a package of propaganda articles was released and a great flock of fluttering leaflets came slowly down through the air, falling at last among the troops in the back areas. Usually these articles told of a big offensive that was to begin and went on to say that as the Germans had no hatred for the Canadians, and as they saw no reason for the Canadians taking part in this war, they advised them not to take part in it any longer. I remember one batch of leaflets gave us just seventy-two hours to get out of the war. Although we laughed at such propaganda, we were undeniably restless. For instance, we were especially watchful till the seventy-two hours had passed. We knew Fritz was going to strike, but we did not know when or where.
Just about the middle of March we moved out to Hersin, a little town about three miles from Fosse-dix, to rest. I was billeted with the curé, a most lovable man, to whose house was attached a large garden. There were a few peach trees in the garden and they were already in bloom.
While at Hersin I was able to help the curé of Fosse-dix by going to one of his adopted parishes, Bouvigny, about five miles from where I was billeted. While taking breakfast with him, he showed me a small photo of the interior of the church at Bouvigny after a recent bombardment. Half the church seemed to be filled with broken beams and pillars, and looking out from the debris, untouched in any way, was an almost life-size statue of the Blessed Virgin. I was struck by the serene, calm expression of Our Lady, but this seemingly miraculous preservation of statues and crucifixes was a common occurrence on the Western Front.
Just before I left a number of airplanes hummed by overhead, and casually I asked the curé if he had ever been up in an airplane. He surprised me by saying he had, during some great public event at Paris. When he had reached solid earth again after his flight, a society lady, standing nearby, had said: “Now, my Father, you will know the way to heaven!” He had replied, he said: “Yes, Madame, and whenever you wish to know the way to heaven, I will be very pleased to teach you it.”
That was the last time I ever saw the little curé of Fosse-dix, for on Thursday, March 21st, something happened and we were ordered back suddenly to Mazingarbe. I remember the date very well for it was the Feast of St. Benedict and my birthday.
The unrest was no longer vague.
Chapter LIII
The Great Offensive
“Old Fritz” had struck at a vital part of the Allied front, planning nothing less than a separation of the French and British armies. He was attacking on a sixty-three mile front. He had “opened up” with a terrific bombardment; it was no ordinary barrage, but one he had been preparing for weeks. He had begun the bombardment at five o’clock, a. m., and before noon had broken through the British line in many places.
For four or five days we waited in Mazingarbe; the whole First Canadian Division was now standing to arms ready to go whenever they might be needed. Every morning from four o’clock till nearly seven the Third Brigade was “standing to” on the square, fully equipped for battle; for it was always just before dawn that attacks were made. Fritz did not attack on our front, but on Wednesday, the 27th, orders came for us to march.
I left Mazingarbe at about two o’clock for our assembly area, which was Chateau de la Haie. I arrived there about four o’clock to find every battalion of the Third Brigade quartered in the huts about the chateau. On learning that we were going to be here till ten o’clock, p. m., I immediately went around to all the orderly rooms and announced confessions. There was a tiny house on the grounds that had once been a private oratory; the stretcher-bearers were quartered here, but on hearing that I wished to have the use of it, they very kindly gave it over to me for four hours. I heard confessions here for the time allotted, then when it was time for the occupiers of the hut to prepare for departing I stepped outside, still wearing my purple stole, and stood under a tree, near which were tethered horses. There was a long line of soldiers waiting. Each man walked up, told his little story, received absolution as he stood there under the stars, then passed on a few paces to say his penance, while the next in line moved up. For a long time I stood there while soldiers, going and coming, passed along the road near which the men were in line.