"Fortes a fortibus creantur."
Brave men are created by brave men.
Save for the great interest aroused by the visit of the Prime Minister, Sir Robert Borden, an almost uncanny tranquillity reigned along the whole Canadian front during the month of July.
The enemy soon became aware that new troops had taken up the position, and reconnaissance parties were very active in endeavouring to ascertain precisely what troops they now had opposite them. They had probably caught a few words from our trenches which were sufficient to tell them that they were now opposed to Canadians, and they were no doubt anxious to discover whether they were confronted by the experienced veterans who had proved their qualities at Ypres, or whether their opponents were the soldiers of the 2nd Division, as yet fresh to the field of war.
We, for our part, had a similar curiosity. We, too, were anxious to discover the identity and, therefore, the quality, of the men whose trenches it was our lot to watch by night and by day.
Knowing, however, that their reconnaissance parties were moving about, we were content to bide our time—to await the opportunity of seizing upon one of their detachments when they were either careless, ill-led, or over-bold.
That opportunity came at "Plug Street" at half-past eight on the morning of July 27th. One of the observers of the 3rd Battalion (Toronto Regiment) reported a party of the enemy in the wild wheat, never to be garnered, growing between the British and German lines. It was then that Captain Tidy, with Private Bruno, who had joined the Battalion at Valcartier from the Queen's Own of Toronto, and two other privates of the names of Candlish and Subervitch, left the trenches and crawled out to take the enemy by surprise. In this they were successful. Two of the Germans surrendered the moment they were covered by Captain Tidy's pistol; but the third, though putting up his hands at first, lowered them again and fired at the officer. At this, Bruno, who was in a crouching position among the wheat, fired two shots from the hip and killed the treacherous German. The party returned safely with their two prisoners, though the whole affair had taken place in full view of the German trenches. The prisoners, when questioned, stated that they had been sent out during the night in the hope that they would be able to identify our troops.
July was a sniper's month. True, every month is a sniper's month; the great game of sniping never wanes, but the inactivity in other methods of fighting left the field entirely free for the sharpshooter in July.
It was during the fighting at Givenchy in June, 1915, that four snipers of the 8th Canadian Battalion (Winnipeg Rifles) agreed to record their professional achievements from that time forward on the wood of their rifles.
Private Ballendine, one of the four, is from Battleford. He is tall and loosely built. In his swarthy cheeks, black eyes, and straight black hair, he shows his right to claim Canadian citizenship by many generations of black-haired, sniping ancestors. He learned to handle a rifle with some degree of skill at the age of ten years, and he has been shooting ever since. At the present time he carries thirty-six notches on the butt of his rifle. Each notch stands for a dead German—to the best of Ballendine's belief. One notch, cut longer and deeper into the brown wood than me others, means an officer.
To date, Private Smith, of Roblin, Manitoba, has scratched the wood of his rifle only fourteen times; but he is a good shot, has faith in his weapon, and looks hopefully to the future.