Everything passed off as usual. Now and again we would think that the German was coming over so would have an extra good watch. He is such an uncanny devil he is always sending up fancy signals. The next morning as usual I visited my teams, issued their rations and rum. I had just finished doing this with my middle team and was sitting down talking to them. The little trench was more like a grave that could just hold us comfortable. All of a sudden there was an explosion overhead. I heard somebody singing out "stretcher-bearer" and I thought something had struck me in the back and had gone though me, but I looked around for my men. As far as I could see they had all been wounded and they were trying to get as fast as they could to the dressing station. Then I looked behind me and there was one of my team with his leg right off; three of his fingers were also off but as he was bleeding so much from his leg there was not a bit of blood left in his hand. I bandaged him up the best way I could and then we got a stretcher and carried him out. The wound that I had was only a little scratch and I found out later the shell that burst overhead was what we call a "wooly bear," instead of the shrapnel bursting forward it shot downwards. My gun was disabled so I thought I should have another. I went back to Howard Johnson who was Acting O.C. of operations in the front line. He was always optimistic (a good way to be) so told me about all the artillery that we had behind us and that we should not worry. Well, I did, and finally I got that gun fixed so that it worked alright. Everybody was telling me how lucky I was to escape when everybody else got hit, but I had a more miraculous one that afternoon.
About three Fritz started to shell us badly again. The shells were coming quite thick and as we could see that he did not intend coming over it was decided to evacuate the outposts and go back to the Sunken Road. The most of the Company had gone back and as I was all ready to leave with my team a big fellow burst. It got one of the men who was just behind me, tore off his leg and a big chunk went into his back, missed me, and the concussion took the chap that was in front of me and landed him about 5 yards away dead. I cannot explain it but there are several of the boys back here who saw it. We got back to the sunken road, stayed there about an hour and then we manned our trenches again. About nine o'clock that night rations were brought up to us as usual, and they also sent the few men that they had left at the horse-line, for we were beginning to get them out a little. The advance is all right for the morale but it causes quite a few casualties. This night went past as the others—nothing happened.
The morning was fine and we received word that we were to make an attack and take the Regina trench that afternoon at all costs. We got everything prepared for it that morning and that afternoon at three o'clock we went over again, but it was a futile attempt for they had all sorts of machine guns and barbed wire there waiting for us. But we kept on as far as the Regina, but could not capture it as our numbers were too depleted by this time. It was here I got the M.M. This makes a coincidence in our family, two brothers having the M.M. and one the D.C.M. We were relieved late that night by the 6th Brigade and we were not sorry to get out. We lost quite a few here, including Howard Johnson, who was in charge of operations. If ever a man deserved a V.C., he did. We marched from here to the Brickfield and from there back to a village behind the lines, out of the range of shell fire. We were still the same old battalion in name and those of us who were left intended to let the reinforcements know what sort of a battalion they had come to.
When our reinforcements at last arrived Col. Hilliam took them and gave them a good lecture and then the old boys got after them. It did not take them long to decide that we were the best battalion in France and that is how we got the "Esprit de Corp."
We stayed in this little village for about a week and then started on our march for the Bullez Grenaz front. After a few days marching, we arrived at our destination, a place where all Canadians have spent a happy time. The village itself was right close up to the communication trench and the French people carried on their work as usual, although now and again Fritz would put over an occasional shell, but they all seemed to think that was in the day's work. We went into a reserve trench called Mechanic's Dump. It is a spot that will always remain. Here were buried quite a lot of French and British soldiers who had lost their lives in the battle of Looz and there were also some of our own buried here. Amongst them, Sergt. Jim Harris. He was the greatest all round dare-devil that we had in the battalion. In fact there was nothing too daring for him to do if he could get a joke off. It was he that took the chickens, skinned them and threw the skins beneath the officers' cookhouse so that they would have to pay for them. Sergt. Harris was appointed Wiring Sergt. He had charge of all the wiring in front of our trench and craters. There were two craters quite close to each other, one occupied by us, the other by Fritz. The Brigade Major asked Harris if he could wire this crater as it was a very risky job. Harris promptly replied that "if Kaizer Bill himself were there in the crater opposite, he would wire it." He did and had the job finished when he saw a couple of Huns stick their heads out of their crater. With that he threw a couple of bombs at them and got them, but a couple of their pals got Harris. We were sorry; for he was really the most talked of man in the Battalion. Anyway, I had the satisfaction of fixing his grave up.
Aeroplane map of the sector in which the "Fighting 25th" were engaged at "Vimy Ridge."
Aeroplane map of the sector in which the "Fighting 25th" were engaged at "Vimy Ridge."
When we took over these trenches everything was quiet in this section, but it was not very long before the Canadians had livened things up. Some days we would "strafe" him with trench mortars; on others we would give him a touch of our artillery. Bill Cameron was aching to get a go at him so he picked out eighty men and four officers. It was decided to use the Bengalore torpedo to blow his wire up. The time appointed was Xmas morning. When they went to put the torpedoes underneath the wire they found it impossible as it was too bright, so there was a consultation and it was decided to crawl out, lay alongside of his wire and then make a dash into his trench as soon as the artillery started which they did with great success, bringing back about nine prisoners. Besides what they killed and the damage done, the moral effect on the Hun was good.