We spent about a month at Urchfont before the call came for which we had been impatiently waiting. On February 8th, 1915, we left for France. Embarking at Avonmouth we set out for the scene of war. The Allies at that time were being pressed from all sides. The Bases of Calais, Boulogne, and Rouen were seriously threatened. So it was to St. Nazair, a port in the Bay of Biscay, that the Canadians were sent. On February 13th we first set foot in France; on the 16th we detrained within hearing of the guns, at Hazebrouck, marching further in to billets at Borre.
From Borre the 6th Battery moved up into action and took its first position at Fleurbaix on March 1st. The first round was fired into the German front line by Captain Tom Kitchen, then Bombardier, and we took it as a good omen that the second round was observed to have sent our enemy’s field kitchen skyward. While at Fleurbaix the Battery played its part in the mix-up of March 10th at Neuve Chapelle, and it was in this same position we underwent our baptism of fire—fortunately with no serious casualties.
On March 29th, the Brigade to which the 6th Battery was attached, was withdrawn to rest—billets at Watou. It was here, on Easter Sunday, that the first intimation of the hardship and danger to be expected at Ypres was given us by our Commanding Officer, Col. J. J. Creelman. The Easter Service was conducted by Rev. Canon Almon, and a feeling of intensity was apparent as he impressed upon us the sad fact, that of those who heard him that day, many would, before long, make that greatest sacrifice. And so indeed it proved. Yet when, on April 18th, we first caught a glimpse of the city of Ypres, then with a population of about twenty thousand, with its shops, estaminets and business places generally in full swing, it was hard indeed for us to believe that our padre could be correct. Little did we foresee that in four short days this city, beautiful, even after its first bombardment, would be a mass of ruins, its population fleeing to safety with a miserable handful of personal belongings, its Cathedral and historic Cloth Hall and invaluable treasures forever lost to posterity. Yet such was to happen.
The bombardment of the Second Battle of Ypres commenced on the 21st, and on the 22nd the Hun let loose his devilish fumes of poison gas. The French to our left fell back, exposing our flank, leaving a gap of over a mile. Our own boys held, but at what a price! Reinforcements from our own reserves were hurriedly sent up, and all that was left of our First Division was spread over the whole of a three-mile front. But they held on for that day and the next. On the 23rd, from our position near St. Julien, we took part in what I firmly believe to have been the most dramatic action that the Battery was engaged in during its stay in France and Flanders. Our infantry had fallen back to reform for a counter-attack. The enemy advanced after them at a range of about 1,200 yards from our guns. Two of our latter were immediately switched to the left at an angle of 45° from their original line of fire. The remaining two were galloped over clear country under heavy shell fire to take up a new position.
With approximately only 100 rounds of ammunition, exposed to the heaviest shell fire, we waited until the enemy were sufficiently advanced to come under our “open sights” so that every round might count. So on they came until 600 yards separated us. The order came for us to retire. This Major McLeod ignored, but instead gave the word to open fire. The 7th Battalion charged at the same time, with the remnants of the Kilty Brigade. Round after round we poured into the still oncoming enemy until at last they were held and finally swept back through Langemarck wood. Three new positions were taken up by the Battery that night, and finally we were settled at Indian Hill, near Wieltje, and to the side of Potijze. What a hell-hole it was! Our casualties were fast mounting up, both among the personnel and horses, and unfortunately a number of these were deaths. On May 1st we took up a position on the banks of the Yser Canal, and remained there until the Division was withdrawn for reorganization at Hinges.
On May 19th we were again, as part of the “Flying 7th Division” hustled into hot action at Festubert, and in the following month at Givenchy. It was at the latter place that a gun from the 6th Battery was placed in action in the front line trench, a “stunt” subsequently acknowledged by the General Officer Commanding. From the “Orchard Position” at Givenchy the Old 17th was sent into action at Neuve Eglise, where for a long time they enjoyed comparative peace, with only occasional casualties, and nothing more than “raiding” work, which was first commenced on this front, to relieve the monotony. It was while here that the 2nd and 3rd Divisions came over and the Canadians became an Army Corps. It was here, too, that we lost our Major.
LT.-COL. G. H. MCLEOD.
Major McLeod was of the type of officer most beloved by the Canadian rank and file. Quick, alert, a thoroughly skilled Artillery Officer, he surely would have forced early recognition from headquarters had he been spared to attain it. Terrible was the blow to his “boys,” when his body was found in a small pond not many rods from the gun position. His was not even the glory of the death from bullet or shrapnel. Yet his duty had been well done, to his God, to his country, to his fellow officers and men. This brief outline of the Old 17th would be even more inadequate were the writer to omit this humble tribute to a dear friend and beloved Commanding Officer.
Christmas, 1915, was spent at Neuve Eglise, and again we had to thank our officers for providing the usual Christmas trimmings. Conditions were not as they had been in England, and, unfortunately, many of the old faces were missing. Such were the fortunes of war, and we who had been raw recruits one short year before were beginning to look at things as philosophic veterans.