On September 13th the 49th Division took over the line immediately north of the River Scarpe, and the Battalion moved to Roclincourt, where it was in divisional reserve. Time still passed pleasantly. Tanks were again to the fore in training. An inter-company Rugby football competition was played, and provoked much enthusiasm. The 147th Infantry Brigade never went into the front line here. After about ten days, the 49th Division was relieved by the 51st Division, and the Battalion moved to Feuchy.
“Old timers” saw in Feuchy some resemblance to the Johnstone’s Post of Somme memory—but without the shelling. There was the same chalk soil, and similar shelters and dugouts were built on the sides of a similar valley. Accommodation was not of the best. Feuchy was in the middle of the country over which the battle of Arras had been fought in 1917, and the Battalion area was almost where the British front line had been for about five months of the summer of 1918; so good billets could hardly be expected. On the whole the weather was good, and the neighbourhood ideal for training. The River Scarpe, with its surrounding marshes, was useful, not only for swimming, but more than once for the working out of bridge-head schemes. One night all officers and platoon sergeants carried out a rather intricate compass march which will not soon be forgotten, particularly by those who, at one point, found themselves sitting on horses’ backs in a wide trench. Altogether the time at Feuchy passed very happily.
Meanwhile, things were moving so quickly that, almost daily, one looked for fresh victories. On August 26th the First Army had attacked on both sides of the Scarpe and on that, and the following days, the British line had been pushed forward some miles, particularly south of the river. On September 2nd the Canadian Corps had broken right through the famous Drocourt—Queant Line, south of the river, and had pushed on almost to the Canal du Nord. On September 27th the passage of that great obstacle was forced, and, during the next few days, the high ground to the north of Cambrai was seized and held after terrific fighting.
The time had come for the 49th Division to play its part in the final adventure. On October 6th came the orders to move. When, late in the afternoon, B Echelon, under the command of Major W. C. Fenton, M.C., marched out en route for the Divisional Reception Camp at Mont St. Eloi, the Battalion knew that at last it was for battle; and perhaps, during all its years of active service, it had never been fitter. An hour or two later the Battalion,[20] over 650 strong, moved off and, in the darkness, bussed through the historic Queant—the pivotal point of the Hindenburg Line—to the neighbourhood of Buissy, where it bivouaced. For two days it lay idle. Its exact role had not yet been definitely settled. So unlikely did a move seem on the morning of October 9th that the adjutant, and most of the company commanders, rode up to reconnoitre the forward area. They rode on and on, until they came to the point where they expected to find the front line; it was occupied by a battery of 6-inch howitzers. Then they heard the news. Cambrai had fallen that morning, and the Canadians were already well beyond it. In haste they returned, only to meet the Battalion already two miles forward on the road. Beyond the Canal du Nord was a sight to be remembered by anyone who had seen the same ground on the previous day. Then the country had been covered with transport lines, the camps of ammunition columns, and all the details to be found immediately behind the line. Now it was deserted, save for the few odd men left behind to clear up. While over the hill in front, in that rolling grass-covered country, line after line and column after column could be seen moving slowly towards the east. The whole B.E.F. seemed to be on the march.
Lieut.-Col. A. L. MOWAT, D.S.O., M.C.
The night was spent in some deserted enemy shelters and dugouts, in a sunken road to the west of Sancourt. Arriving after dark, there was little opportunity to make oneself comfortable. The following morning passed quietly but, about 1-0 p.m., came the orders to move again. Early in the afternoon the Battalion started. It crossed the Canal de l’Escaut at Escaudœuvres—the bridge had been in enemy hands barely twenty-four hours before, but he had left too hurriedly to destroy it. Yet he had found time wantonly to destroy in his usual manner; the houses were full of furniture senselessly damaged—chairs broken to bits, feather beds ripped open, crockery and glass lying smashed on the floors. An occasional shell was still falling as the Battalion marched through the village.
A halt was made by the railway embankment to the east of the village. Rifles were piled, hot tea was served, and the men lay down to get what rest they could. As darkness fell the scene was one never to be forgotten—the long rows of piled arms, the hundreds of men lying around sleeping or talking in whispers, the occasional glimmer of a light. It was a scene such as one sees in pictures of old-time warfare, and perhaps nothing showed more plainly that the long wearisome days of trench warfare were past. The stars shone brightly overhead and, to complete the picture, a small group of Canadian machine gunners sang song after song in the gloom.
(b) October 11th and After.
About 8-0 p.m. the Commanding Officer was summoned to Brigade H.Q. He was away for about two hours and, on his return, all officers were summoned. By the light of three candles stuck in the ground, he marked upon each officer’s map the objectives and boundaries of the attack which was to be delivered the next morning, and then explained the plan of operations:—