From his observation post a German officer took in the new situation at a glance. A few guttural sounds he muttered, and then turning angrily to an orderly he gave him a curt message. “They shall not use it if we cannot,” he said to himself, shaking his fist in the direction of the whirring sails.
In the little village part of the church and the baker’s shop lay in ruins. Martha had sent but a part of her signal, and it had been acted upon with characteristic German promptitude.
In the windmill on the hill, which shook crazily as the sails tore their way through the air, a man and a woman struggled desperately, the woman with almost superhuman strength.
Suddenly the earth shook, a great explosion rent the air, and the mill on the hill was rent timber from timber and the great sails doubled up like tin-foil.
“Good shooting,” said the German Forward Observation Officer, as he tucked his glass under his arm and went “home” to dinner.
COURCELETTE
“It was one of the nastiest jobs any battalion could be called on to perform; to my mind far more difficult than a big, sweeping advance. The First Battalion has been in the trenches eighteen days, on the march four days, and at rest one day, until now. No men could be asked to do more, and no men could do more than you have done. I congratulate you, most heartily.”
In the above words, addressed to the men and officers of the First Canadian Infantry Battalion, Western Ontario Regiment, Major-General Currie made it plain to all that among the Honours of the First Battalion few will take higher place than that which will be inscribed “Courcelette.”
On the night of September 20th, 1916, the First Battalion moved up from support to the firing-line, beyond the ruins of the above-mentioned little hamlet. For the past few days it had rained incessantly, and all ranks had been working night and day, in mud and slush, carrying material of all kinds to the front line. The men were soaked to the skin, caked with mud, and very weary, but they went “up-along” with an amazing cheeriness, for rumour had whispered that the regiment was to attack, and the men were in that frame of mind when the prospect of “getting their own back” appealed to them hugely. Although the enemy opened up an intense barrage during the relief, casualties were comparatively few, and by morning the First Battalion was, Micawber-like, “waiting for something to turn up.”