They chose the most advanced position in the line of guns, close to the Yser, and soon were in their places ready for the fight. Shells fell about them in thousands, but the men happy to be in the thick of the battle turned to their guns with a will and worked like mad.
The dawn broke, but there was no cessation of the fight. The guns became hot, and screeched complainingly as each shell tore through the swollen muzzle, but still there was no reprieve or rest, and all day long they belched forth smoke and death over the Yser's bank.
When the Germans commenced to pour through the gap which their treacherous gas had made, they overlooked one important obstacle. On their left were the men who had lived through four months of misery in the rain and mud of Salisbury Plains, each day laying up a bigger score against the Bosches for settlement.
With this unhappy memory, it was not likely that the First Canadians were to be ousted from their trenches or killed by gas alone without a struggle for revenge. For some reason only their left wing had received an extreme dose of the gas. Many fell and died, but those who remained stuffed handkerchiefs into their mouths, covered their noses and held on like grim death for the great attack they knew was coming. They had not long to wait. Most of them had never seen the enemy before, and the sight of thousands of Germans marching forward in dense masses was to Tommy a distinct and unlooked for pleasure. But on they came in a multitude so great that it looked as if no guns on earth could mow them down.
In spite of the sight of these great numbers, it was with the utmost difficulty that the officers could restrain their men from rushing out at the enemy with the bayonet. Tommy argued: "Between Salisbury Plains and Wipers we've been stuck in the mud for six months, never so much as seeing the nose of a German, and now here they come, just asking to be killed and you won't let us get out at them!" The mere fact of being outnumbered twenty times over didn't seem sufficient excuse to disappointed Tommy for remaining under cover.
Myriads of self-satisfied Bosches came marching past, as though the world were theirs. They were due for a rude awakening. They had not progressed far when the extreme violence of the counter attack caused them to pause in irresolute wonder. Who were these bold, desperate men who dared remain in the trenches when half an army had passed? No army in its senses would remain with unprotected flank. There must be tremendous reinforcements at their back—so reasoned the Germans. To stay with one wing "in the air" seemed too much madness even for the "untrained" Canadians.
But one thing was clear to the Teuton mind; whoever they were, they were a decided menace to their advance and must be annihilated or forced back at all costs before the German Army could progress. But what a lot of annihilating they seemed to take!
The third brigade swung across the enemy's flank and poured such a withering fire into the Bosches that they were sore pressed, with all their horde, to hold their own. Men and guns were fighting back to back, grimly, determinedly, unflinchingly and with invincible valour.
The enemy artillery now had command of the main road to Ypres, and of many of the lesser roads, and was keeping up a hellish fire on all to prevent reinforcements or supplies from reaching the Canadians.
All that night our plucky men fought them off, driving them back through the woods. They retook four captured guns. All the next day, thousands without food or water fought side by side with unconquerable spirit. In impossible positions, raked by enemy shell fire, without chance to eat or sleep, they held on and tore at the Germans like angry wolves, fighting with such unheard of ferocity that their opponents were absolutely staggered.