Chapter II: Part 2

The leading companies were forced to take cover at a distance of seven hundred yards from the German front line. They lay down in shell-holes and on the torn, trembling earth, scratching feebly at the hard surface to secure cover while they got their second wind. In a short time they were up and stumbling forward again; but they had only gone two hundred yards when the German artillery shortened range and the full force of the barrage fell on them.

Under that staggering blow men collapsed in dozens, crushed by the weight of uptorn earth or blown to fragments. In the right company, Lieutenant Combe was the only officer who had survived so far. His company was but a tattered remnant of what it had been a few moments before; but Combe had his orders surging at the back of his head, and he meant to carry them out. Collecting the handful of men left to him he began to work his way through the German barrage. He managed it. He brought his followers safely through that terrible curtain of fire, only to find that if he would reach the German line he must also get through the barrage of our own guns. He steadied his men and accomplished the second journey also. Just how he piloted them through the hail of shells it is impossible to explain; these things can only be guessed at. But he did it; and he had only five men left when he reached the German trenches.

Back in the rear, Captain Stinson, of the supporting company, saw the advance checked on the right; but there was no sign of failure on the left. He concluded that the latter wing had reached its objective. With a runner he scrambled forward towards the German line. When he was within twenty yards of the enemy trench he stopped, amazed, for the Germans were lining their parapet, waiting to meet the assaulting battalions. That was how Captain Stinson discovered that the 31st Battalion had not reached its objective. He retired with the information.

It was then that he received the message from Lieutenant Combe, asking for reinforcements and stating his position. Captain Stinson ordered Sergeant Boddington, of "A" Company, to send forward twenty men to help Combe. The Captain himself went forward in advance, with a runner. He found Combe in the act of winning his posthumous decoration.

Combe and his men had entered the German trench after a terrible struggle, aided by a few men of another company whom they had picked up. They bombed the Germans along the trench with German bombs, having exhausted their own long before. Eighty prisoners had been captured and were on their way back to our lines, and 250 yards of trench were in the hands of the invaders.

Again and again the gallant little band charged the enemy, Combe always at their head, leading them around traverses and into dug-outs. Along the whole of that 250 yards of trench lay dead and dying Germans.

Combe was killed by a rifle bullet as he was leading his gallant bombers up the trench in the climax of his triumph.

CAPTAIN WILLIAM AVERY BISHOP, R.F.C. (LATE CANADIAN CAVALRY).

"Give me the aeroplane I want," said Captain W. A. Bishop, "and I'll go over to Berlin any night--or day--and come back too, with any luck."

It was during a discussion in the mess on the question of air reprisals that Canada's champion airman slipped in the quiet remark; and when a man who has won the V.C., the Military Cross and the D.S.O. with a bar, says he could bomb the German capital it may be taken that he means what he says. He had then brought down nearly fifty German flyers, besides a few balloons.

Born at Owen Sound, Ontario, in 1894, a son of the registrar of Grey County, this stripling received a commission in the Canadian Cavalry in March, 1915, and went to France with a cavalry unit. He was in the trenches in the days when our Cavalry Brigade held a section of the line as infantry. Later, after only one experience of fighting Germans from horseback, he decided that he wanted more excitement and joined the increasing host of airmen.

His headquarters in France as a flying man were until recently in the cosiest of aerodromes, cuddled close up against a small bunch of cool trees, which looked innocent enough from the air. An ancient farm is in the vicinity and the title of the young airman's hut was "The Abode of Love." It is a fitting answer to the Hymn of Hate.

Commanding this squadron of airmen, he brought it to perfection, and none disputed that he was a fitting successor to Captain Ball, the famous English V.C. hero, who was the leader until his death. Every man of the squadron has brought down at least ten Germans and the cheerful group is reputed to have the greatest percentage of flying nerve on the western front.

His best and most daring work, however, has been done when he has been "solo" flying. It is true that he attributes most of his success to "luck," but his comrades know that more than luck is needed to bring an airman safely out of some of the awkward situations in which he has been placed. On the 24th April, 1917, he was climbing slowly against the wind a few miles east of Monchy when he saw an enemy two-seater busily making observations of the Allied line and sending wireless messages to the German headquarters in the rear. He dived at the big machine, firing in bursts from his Lewis gun as he went. But his gun jammed and he was compelled to wheel round, tinkering with the weapon as he flew. In a few moments he had remedied the trouble and banged fifteen more shots at the enemy; but again his gun jammed, and before he could clear it the big German had escaped.

When he got the gun into working order again he flew eastward towards Vitry, hawking the air lanes for other opponents. Before long he observed another two-seater, also on observation work. This time he tried his gun at long range, then rushed at the enemy, firing in bursts as he charged.

The German machine wriggled, flying first one way then another, with the Canadian hanging on at its tail and spouting gusts of bullets at it in short intervals. Hit at last in the fusilage, the German made a dive for earth. Swift on the track of the two-seater came the captain, firing all the way; and when the German machine finally landed in a meadow he finished the remainder of his ammunition drum into it as it lay on the ground. Neither pilot nor observer climbed out. Both had been killed as they sat in the 'bus.

Ten minutes later, after he had recharged his gun, Bishop climbed into the clouds to continue his cruise of the front line. As he rose he saw, away ahead, a British Nieuport being attacked by three Albatross scouts. He flew to his compatriot's assistance, and, coming up from behind, emptied his gun into one of the enemy. The German collapsed and went down like a stone. The Nieuport by this time had started in pursuit of one of the other Albatrosses, which was trying to escape, so Bishop tackled the third. A few buzzing, manoeuvring circles, a few bursts from the deadly little gun--and the German was diving steeply to earth. Captain Bishop slid down in his smoking wake and saw him crash, a heap of broken spars and flames.

There is no trick of aircraft that this young Canadian does not know, though he is not a showy flyer. The number of his exploits is endless, and as his squadron moved from one part of the line to another he constantly found new pastures for adventure, new opponents to defeat, more Germans to kill. He has fought German airmen high over the waves of advancing battalions and has heard, as a faint whisper coming up to him, the cheers of his fellow countrymen when he shot down his enemies at their feet. He has chased a German Staff automobile along a dusty road and opened fire on it so that the driver lost his nerve and ditched the car, and the occupants threw their massive dignity to the winds and scrambled for shelter into a dug-out.

Not very long ago, when he was roaming alone, twelve thousand feet high, he heard the stutter of machine-guns from out the clouds, and drove in their direction to find his own juvenile major fighting single-handed against five formidable German battle machines. Down swooped the captain on the tail of the nearest enemy, riddled the pilot and observer with bullets, fought another for a few minutes and sent him also to the ground, dived down, reloading his gun as he went, then up again and blew a third into eternity with a terrific burst of fire; and then, joyfully and with calm happiness, escorted his major home in a merry, zig-zag course which told the watchers of his aerodrome that all was well with the world.

The incident which brought him his Victoria Cross occurred one June day in 1917, when he was working, as usual, independently. He _zoomed_ across No Man's Land, over the German front and support trenches, driving on to where he thought was game worth seeking. The game in this instance was an aerodrome. But as he circled above the enemy hangars at fifteen thousand feet the place seemed to have a strangely deserted appearance. Down he came to within three hundred feet of the hangars to investigate; and the only occupant of the aerodrome proved to be a very nervous gunner who feebly turned a machine-gun on him. The nervous gunner was sent scuttering to cover by a few bursts of fire. Then the disappointed captain turned the nose of his machine upwards, wondering whether he would find any hostile craft waiting for him above the clouds. Through the thin clouds he mounted into the clear spaces above. No enemy was to be seen, nothing but the blue void; and the warm, soft atmosphere was very pleasant that day. The captain was out for adventure. He flew on deeper into the German lines.

Twelve miles from the German front line he looked over the side of his 'plane and saw, basking in the pleasant sunshine, the very thing he had come to smash. It was another German aerodrome, with a number of machines lined up in front of the sheds, ready for a journey.

Bishop counted the machines--one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Seven new, beautiful bombers all in a row, brass burnished, oiled, a few of the engines running, all ready for a trip into Allied territory--or perhaps to England! It was a very tidy aerodrome and the seven machines on the lawn looked very trim. The captain descended to have a closer look--and the Germans spotted him and raised the alarm; guns began to splash white puffs of shrapnel around him.

Down dived this youngster through the barrage till he was within fifty feet of the ground and then his machine-gun began to spray the German machines and the lawn with bullets. A mechanic, who was trying to start one of the aeroplanes, fell beside the propeller, riddled with shot. Up raced the Canadian then, rising in sharp spirals as fast as his machine could travel. Up after him went a German, throbbing with a desire for revenge. But Bishop was expecting this very thing; and as the German reached sixty feet from the ground he swooped down and around suddenly and fired into the chasing machine at close range. The German 'plane crashed to earth, carrying a dead pilot with it.

Turning swiftly, the captain saw a second Albatross rising. He closed with this one till about 150 yards separated them; then, getting the German full on his sights, he sent a blast of thirty rounds into him. Away went the Albatross, side-slipping into a tree, where it hung a wretched, broken thing.

A third Albatross came up to the combat, while the invader swung over the aerodrome sheds in the midst of a storm of shrapnel from the enemy guns. Bishop cleared the sheds and swept upward a thousand feet, met his third enemy as he mounted and emptied the remainder of his drum of ammunition at him. The Albatross swerved, slid, fluttered and fell to earth within three hundred yards of the spot from which it had mounted but a few moments before.

The invader quickly inserted a new drum and swung round again to where a fourth machine was humming towards him. He took no chances with this antagonist, but opened fire at a fair range as it headed at him.

Already a fifth German was coming out of the blue, trying to sandwich him between it and its fellow. He had no time to waste on the fifth. He kept hammering at the fourth till it also left the fight and planed down to the green sward below, out of control and little better than a wreck.

He faced the fifth--had him, indeed, in a favourable position for ending his career also--when he realized that he had finished his ammunition. That fact saved the life of the German airman. Captain Bishop regretfully raised his empty drum and waved a farewell to this, his latest adversary, and started on his hundred-mile race for home.

The solitary German was soon left behind; but from another aerodrome came four German scouts who had been sent to the rescue of their friends of the now untidy aerodrome. They had seen the latter part of the battle. Though they were about a thousand feet above him they did not attack, but fell behind after following for about a mile.

With his machine slashed almost to ribbons, Bishop made a safe landing near the bunch of green trees beside the ancient farm. That night there was great rejoicing at the "Abode of Love," for the news spread quickly and men came from neighbouring parts of the line to offer congratulations.

PRIVATE J. G. PATTISON, 50TH BATTALION

During the morning of April 10th, 1917, the 44th and 50th Battalions were instructed to capture and consolidate, as an outpost line, the Eastern edge of Vimy Ridge lying beyond Hill 145. The men of the 10th Brigade had been in reserve while their comrades swept over Vimy on the previous day and were anxious to get in some good work with the rest of the Corps. There is no doubt that they succeeded.

The men of the 50th made their way to Beer Trench, and at zero hour, 3.15 p.m., went forward with a rush. Opposition was immediate and severe. From every broken tree and battered piece of cover machine-gun fire swept the attack, and casualties were extremely heavy; but the men continued to push forward.

On the right "C" Company attacked, with "D" Company in close support; on the left "A" Company, with "B" Company in support. The leading companies found the "going" extremely hard, but for a time all went well, and though the advance was slow, steady progress was made.

As the incessant fire thinned the waves of attacking troops, greater difficulty was encountered in enveloping the machine-gun nests that barred our progress. In the first stage of an attack made by determined troops the resistance close at hand is easily swamped; but as the men continue to push forward the innumerable obstructions and perils of the battlefield gather against their weakening impact, fatigue slows them, their front is broken and their connecting files are shot down; and so a steady enveloping movement becomes a series of bitterly contested little battles, where small parties in twos and threes fight strategic engagements with isolated strong points of the enemy. Finally a series of partial checks culminates in an abrupt cessation of the advance--and a gathering company finds itself held up before an embattled fortification whose point of vantage covers the whole local zone of attack.

Then the real trouble begins. Time and again in the history of the war one hostile fortification left in otherwise captured territory has changed or materially affected the final issue of the engagement. It may serve as a rallying-point for a determined counter-attack, or by its wide zones of fire hamper the advance of reinforcements on the flanks, or prevent the supply of vital munitions to a new and precarious front line; its effectiveness is limited only by its natural position, and as this has been selected with care and forethought by an efficient enemy, one small but actively hostile strong-point may prove a very capable thorn in the side of a harassed general.

On that April afternoon the 50th Battalion encountered just such a check. It was on the left of the battalion attacking zone, and the men of "A" Company, gradually gathering in the nearest cover, had organized and carried out several gallant attempts to rush the position. Each time they had been beaten back with heavy losses.

Now "B" Company arrived to reinforce the assault. Another attack was organized, with no more success than the last; and then, as so often occurs, a critical situation was relieved by the clearheaded bravery of a single soldier.

Private Pattison, an engineer from Calgary, proceeded to deal with the situation. He advanced single-handed towards the machine-gun post in a series of short rapid dashes, taking cover on the way in available shell-holes while deciding his next point of vantage. In a few moments he had reached a shell-hole within thirty yards of the vital strong-point. He stood up in full view of the machine-gunners and under their point-blank fire threw three bombs with such good aim that the guns were put out of action and the crews temporarily demoralized. This was Pattison's opportunity, and he took it without hesitation. As his last bomb exploded amidst the Germans he rushed across the intervening space and in a moment was using his bayonet upon the unhappy enemy. He had killed them all before his companions had caught him up.

Twenty minutes later all objectives were gained and the Canadians busy consolidating the captured line. Pattison came unscathed through the day's fighting, and through the successful attack on the Pimple on the following day; but he never wore his V.C., though he was aware that he had been recommended for the honour. He was killed on June 2nd in the attack upon the Generating Station.

Very few men of Pattison's age now reach the honour of the Victoria Cross, as this war has set almost too high a standard for their physical activity. Pattison was 42 years old--a smart soldier and a good fellow. His son, a young soldier in his father's battalion, wears the ribbon upon his right breast, and probably will wear it on his left side too, before this war is over.

PRIVATE HARRY BROWN, 10TH BATTALION

Most men who have won the Victoria Cross have gained it by some act of violent, passionate valour. Private Harry Brown, Number 226353, of the 10th Battalion, won it by suppressing the impulse to violence. Whilst others on the same field of battle were earning the decoration in the impetuous fury of assault Harry Brown was earning it by the terrible, pitiless restraint which he imposed on his emotions. His was the supreme courage of self-control, the silent valour of abnegation.

The 10th Battalion took part in the attack on Hill 70, near Loos, which began on the 15th of August, 1917, and lasted for several days. Before midnight of the 14th the battalion was in position, and at 4.25 a.m. the attack began. The first German line was captured in face of fierce opposition, the fighting continuing intermittently throughout the day; but the position was held. During the night, attempts were made to consolidate the new line; but the 7th and the 8th Battalions were in difficulties and the 10th Battalion was ordered next morning to move to their assistance.

This second attack began at four o'clock on the afternoon of the 15th. Chalk Pit, the redoubt on the left of Hill 70, was assaulted by "A," "B" and "C" companies. "A" company encountered terrible enemy machine-gun fire when within two hundred yards of the pit and were forced to take cover in shell-holes for a time. After a short rest the position was captured in a rush, the waves of attackers, carried forward by the impetus of the advance, reaching a trench seventy-five yards beyond Chalk Pit. The German occupants were all either killed or captured.

The position was being consolidated when Sergeant J. Wennevold and a party of men of "C" company went out to reinforce a post to the right of the new battalion front in order to protect the flank from a counter-attack. Consolidation of that position was terrible work. To the men who tried to dig into the hard, chalky soil that attempt must always remain a nightmare. They could make little impression on the earth. In one part of the front the result of the previous night's labour was a trench scarcely two feet deep, blunted tools and aching hands and backs.

While the work was in progress the Germans poured a hurricane of fire from machine-guns and field-guns on the position. Men were killed and wounded faster than others could take their places. The crisis of that day and night of endurance and agony came at a quarter to five o'clock in the afternoon, when the Germans were seen massing for an attack on the right.

By this time every wire to headquarters was cut by the enemy artillery. If they were allowed to attack, the companies in the trench would be annihilated and the hard-earned position lost. The situation was desperate.

Only one chance of averting disaster remained.

A runner must get through with a message to our artillery asking them to smash the German attack. Private Harry Brown and another runner undertook to deliver the message. When they set out on their desperate mission a hostile barrage was raking the open behind the newly occupied ground, the enemy's intention being to prevent supports coming up. The messengers had to get through this curtain of fire, a curtain under which nearly every yard of ground was being churned into a mess or torn up savagely in tons and tossed on high as if by some unseen Brobdignagian hand.

They had gone but a little way on their adventurous journey when one was killed and Brown was left, the only link between his isolated battalion and its hope of succour. If he failed to get through his comrades would be wiped out to a man.

He continued to stumble along, sinking into new, smoking craters, now and then up to the waist, dragging himself out and crawling through the debris, lying still for short intervals till the shock of the explosions had passed. Flying missiles hit him and shattered an arm. He was bleeding and exhausted. He sat down, dazed and uncomprehendingly. But his will forced him to his feet again. He staggered onward towards the support lines, walking like a man in a dream, his brain in constant dark motion, his thoughts in a flux even as the ground on which he strove for a footing.

It was a pained, dreary thing, sore and weary, that kept doggedly crawling and staggering on through the intensity of the shrapnel and the high explosive. His strength ran from him with the blood from his mangled arm. His steps were automatic. The last part of the journey was the worst. It was his _Via Dolorosa_.

* * * * *

An officer standing in a dug-out in the support line was peering out at the devastation which the enemy artillery was spreading so prodigally. Shells rained on every side, the earth shuddered and shrank at every blow. But the telephone to headquarters was working.

A dark form crawled out of the ruin and stumbled towards the dug-out. It was a soldier--hatless, pale, dirty, haggard, one arm hanging limp and bloody by his side, his clothing torn and stained. He reached the steps of the dug-out, and seeing the officer, tried to descend. But his strength was gone, his limbs refused to act. He fell down the short stairway, spent--utterly spent and dying.

The officer lifted him gently and brought him into the dug-out and laid him down. Then Brown handed over his precious slip of paper.

"Important message," he whispered.

And Private Harry Brown lay back and drifted into unconsciousness. He died a few hours later in the dressing station.

COMPANY SERGEANT-MAJOR ROBERT HANNA, 29TH BATTALION

When the first big attack was made by the Canadian troops on Hill 70 on the 15th August, 1917, the 29th (Vancouver) Battalion moved forward to the support of the 5th Brigade, remaining in the area for three days while the battle raged in the forward lines.

The first stage of the attack ended on the 18th; and that night, under severe shelling, the 29th Battalion took over Commotion trench from the junction of Caliper and Conductor trenches to the junction of Nabob Alley and Commotion trench. On the morning of the 21st August the second stage of the offensive was resumed. It was then the battalion took an active part in the struggle.

The opening of the second phase was timed for 4.35 a.m. At 1 a.m. the companies began to move into the assembly positions. At 3.15 a.m. the scouts reported that the tapes had been laid, the companies were getting into position uneventfully and none of the enemy was to be seen.

But about 4.10 a.m. the German artillery began to plump shells along the front of the parapet, increasing the intensity of the barrage towards 4.30, when a sudden deluge of "fish-tails" descended on the trenches. Accompanying this bombardment was a curious kind of bomb, square in shape, which exploded with a great flame and sent out a dense, suffocating smoke. One of those dropped in the trench occupied by "D" company, wounding practically every man in a platoon.

While attempts were being made to clear the débris, Sergeant Croll, who was stationed near the corner of Nun's Alley and Commotion trench, heard the word passed along: "Heine has broken through the 25th and is coming down the trench."

Croll collected five unwounded men and kept the advancing Germans at bay by bombing them till reinforcements arrived from the 28th Battalion and drove the enemy out.

Major Grimmett, who was in command of "A" company in support, hearing the bombing and concluding that something had gone wrong with "D" company, sent forward a platoon under Captain Abbott. Our opening barrage by this time had begun and was moving forward. Abbott's platoon took up the fight, carried it into Nun's Alley and established a block there.

The other companies--"B," "C" and the remainder of "D"--had gone forward behind the barrage. One platoon of "D" company, which attempted an overland attack on Nun's Alley, was wiped out almost to a man by machine-gun fire. "C" company, attacking in the centre, was badly mauled. The left platoon was swept away by German machine-gun fire before it reached its objective. The right platoon had almost reached its objective--Cinnebar trench--when it ran into a strong enemy machine-gun post surrounded by barbed wire. Lieutenant Carter, who had already been wounded, was killed in an attempt to drive the Germans out of this stronghold.

Lieutenant Sutherland, on the extreme right, got into Cinnebar trench and gave the order for rapid fire on a party of Germans who were advancing overland. In the act of picking up a rifle he was mortally hit by a sniper's bullet. Sergeant Stevens, who then took command, was lifting Sutherland's rifle when he too was shot through the head. A corporal took the sergeant's place. A moment later he also was killed. The remainder of the men fought on desperately till a platoon of the 28th Battalion came to their aid.

In the meantime "B" company, to which Sergeant-Major Hanna belonged, had reached the objective in Cinnebar trench. Believing that all was well with "C" company, Lieutenant Gordon, the commander, was about to send off the pre-arranged signal when it was discovered that the signal cartridges were wet. Before a substitute could be found word was brought that "C" company, on the left, was being badly smashed, all the officers having been killed. Lieutenant McKinnon was sent along with a bombing party to aid "C" company. He was killed just as he joined the fight.

Gordon then went along to the relief of the company on his left, after ordering Lieutenant Montgomery to get a party of snipers outside the trench so that they could take toll of the enemy. Gordon was badly wounded in the arm. Lieutenant Montgomery was soon afterwards killed by a German sniper. The leadership fell upon Sergeant-Major Hanna.

Hanna saw that the crux of the position was a German post protected by a heavy wire and armed with a machine gun. He collected a party of his men and led them against the post amid a hail of rifle and machine-gun fire. Rushing through the wire he bayoneted three of the Germans, brained a fourth, and overthrew the machine gun. The redoubt was captured.

The Germans arrived in force and counter-attacked. Hanna, who was now short of bombs, built a block. Again and again the enemy tried to rush his position; but he and his handful of men held it until they were relieved later that day. Next day the battalion frontage was taken over by another Canadian unit and the 29th went back to a well-earned rest.

SERGEANT FREDERICK HOBSON, 20TH BATTALION

The men of the 20th Canadian Battalion lay down in their trenches before Hill 70 on the night of the 14th August, 1917, in a soft drizzle of rain. They were to take part in the attack on the hill early next morning and the artillerymen behind had already trained their guns on the enemy trenches, ready to let loose the bellow of destruction when the word was passed.

Hill 70 lies near the La Bassée-Lens road, in the vicinity of Loos, the village of Cité St. Auguste on its right, Bois Hugo and Chalk Pit on its left. Its sides and crest are scarred with trenches and bruised by much shelling. The Allies have taken it from the Germans and have been pushed out of it by the Germans more than once. On the 14th August, 1917, it was in German hands.

Precisely at 4.25 o'clock on the morning of the 15th, just as a red streak smeared the horizon, the word for which the Canadians had been waiting was given and the artillery barrage fell like a hammer stroke on the German front line. For six minutes it pounded the trenches into pulp, then lifted to a hundred yards farther on, tore a line of devastation there for another six minutes, lifted again in another hundred yards' stride and so continued its work of destruction at similar intervals.

As the curtain of our shells rose from the German front line the men of the 20th Battalion, with other units, leaped from their jumping-off trenches and waded across No Man's Land. They found the Germans--all who remained of the front line garrison--shaken, bruised, more or less subdued. Where they surrendered they were taken prisoners; where they resisted they were killed. In Cowley trench only one enemy machine-gun was working and soon it was out-flanked and captured. In Commotion trench an emplacement was in action. It was smothered.

Sergeant Frederick Hobson and some men of "A" company went forward up the enemy trench known as Nabob Alley. They bombed their way along, beating back the Germans, who retreated slowly and grudgingly; and, having conquered about seventy yards of the trench, they established a post at that point. The objectives of the battalion elsewhere were also gained and the position was consolidated. The attack was a success.

All this happened on the 15th of August. But to take a position is one thing: to hold it is another. For three days the Germans kept probing various parts of the line, hoping to find a spot which would yield. At 1.40 a.m. on the 18th, their artillery opened a heavy bombardment on the whole Canadian Corps front and for half an hour shells were rained on every part of the line. The general bombardment slackened for a short time, during which the village of St. Pierre received an avalanche of gas-shells; and at twelve minutes past four o'clock every gun the enemy could muster opened again on the front.

The concentration of artillery was nerve-racking. It was almost demoralizing. Up in the advance posts the majority of the Lewis gun positions were obliterated, men and guns being buried in the vast upheavals. Twenty minutes after the shelling began the headquarters of the 20th Battalion was hit by a heavy shell and vanished. Every wire leading to the posts was cut, every light extinguished. And in the darkness and confusion came word from the battalion stationed on the right of the 20th to the effect that the Germans were out in No Man's Land, coming to attack.

Sergeant Hobson in his trench saw the grey figures swarming across the open ground. The Lewis guns had all been wiped out except one--and as this one was being brought into action a German shell landed beside it. When the smoke cleared, only one man of the crew remained alive, and he and the gun were buried in the debris. Hobson was no gunner, but he knew the importance of the position. He raced forward, seized an entrenching tool and hauled the dazed survivor out of the mud.

"Guess that was a close call," said the survivor, Private A. G. Fuller.

"Guess so: let's get the gun out," replied Hobson.

They began to dig. Across the open ground came the Germans, firing at the two men as they advanced. A bullet hit Hobson, but he took no notice of his wound. Together he and Fuller got the gun into position and opened up on the Germans, who were now pouring down the trench. They were holding the enemy well when the gun jammed.

Hobson picked up his rifle.

"I'll keep them back," he said to Fuller, "if you fix the gun!"

He ran towards the advancing enemy, a lonely, wounded, desperate man against many and with bayonet and clubbed rifle barred their passage. No man knows how many Germans were killed by Sergeant Hobson in that fierce encounter; dead and wounded were heaped in front of him when a shout from Fuller intimated that the gun was again ready for action.

And just at that moment a German pushed his rifle forward and fired point blank at the Canadian Horatius.

As Hobson fell Gunner Fuller pressed the trigger of his Lewis gun and threw a stream of death into the German mob. A few minutes later reinforcements from "B" company took the enemy in the flank and chased them back across No Man's Land; and the machine-guns of "B" company cleaned them up as they ran.

They found Sergeant Frederick Hobson where he had fallen, still grasping his deadly rifle. His enemies were sprawled around him, silent witnesses to his prowess. His heroism had saved the situation--and he had fought his last fight.

PRIVATE MICHAEL JAMES O'ROURKE, 7TH BATTALION

Down by the docks of the city of Victoria, B.C., you may observe a man who keeps a fruit stall and wears about an inch of dark red ribbon on his left breast. That fruit vendor is Michael James O'Rourke, late of the 7th Canadian Battalion; and the inch of dark red ribbon means that he has won the Victoria Cross.

O'Rourke gained the decoration when he was a stretcher-bearer in the 7th Battalion during the big attack on the German positions near Lens which began on the 15th August, 1917, and continued for several days.

At 4.25 on that morning the 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 5th Canadian Brigades attacked and captured Hill 70 and the German defences about Cité St. Laurent. In conjunction with this operation a gas attack was successfully launched in the Avion sector and a subsidiary attack west of Lens.

The opening of the main operation was no surprise to the enemy. Prisoners taken during the attack admitted that they had expected it and had been "standing-to" for a fortnight in anticipation; and orders which were captured confirmed this statement, for they contained elaborate instructions in the method of procedure to be adopted when the attack was launched.

Two hours before the advance began that summer morning the Germans were sending streams of gas shells into the district around Maroc and the Lens-Béthune road, while a 5.9 howitzer was playing on Loos at intervals of five minutes.

When our barrage opened the 7th Battalion went forward and formed up in No Man's Land in the rear of the 10th Battalion which was to capture the front German line. At first there was a slight mix-up of battalions owing to enemy fire, but before long, though only after heavy fighting, the objectives were gained with the exception of the centre where our men were held up by machine-gun fire from Cité St. Auguste and the brickworks. In time, however, reinforcements arrived and that obstacle was removed.

For three days the fighting was the fiercest the Canadian battalions had up till then experienced. The Germans were in no mood to give up their positions without stubborn resistance and the struggle ebbed and flowed day and night with bitter violence. On the front on which the 2nd Division attacked many Germans held out in small parties hidden in ruined houses and in deep cellars until cleared out by bomb and bayonet, while counter-attack after counter-attack was thrown against the battalions which had succeeded in clearing the German trenches.

With the 7th Battalion were sixteen stretcher-bearers, including O'Rourke. Out of that sixteen, two were killed and eleven were wounded, for the Germans sniped at them as they worked to carry the wounded from the field. During those three days and nights O'Rourke worked unceasingly rescuing the wounded, dressing their injuries under fire and bringing food and water to them. The area in which he worked was continually subjected to the severest shelling and was frequently swept by machine-gun and rifle fire.

Several times he was knocked down and partially buried by shell-bursts. Once, seeing a comrade who had been blinded stumbling along in full view of the enemy who were sniping at him, O'Rourke jumped out of the trench and brought him in, being himself heavily sniped at while doing so. Again he went forward about fifty yards in front of our barrage, under very heavy fire from machine-guns and snipers, and brought in another wounded man; and later, when the advanced posts retired to the line, he braved a storm of enemy fire of every description and brought in a wounded man who had been left behind.

It was for these acts, in which he showed an absolute disregard for his own safety, that O'Rourke gained the highest award--one of the comparatively few men who have been given the Victoria Cross in this war for saving life under fire.

CAPTAIN OKILL MASSEY LEARMONTH, 2ND BATTALION

With the Military Cross already in his possession, Captain O. M. Learmonth, of the 2nd Battalion, was one of that small number of Canadians who won the highest decoration during the capture of Hill 70 in August, 1917.

The weather in which that attack began on the 15th of the month was unsettled and sultry. The weather in which the fighting ended on the 18th of the month was clear and sunny. It was during the fighting on the latter date that Learmonth died.

On the 15th, the 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 5th Canadian Brigades attacked the hill and the German defences about Cité St. Laurent. For the next two days they held the new trenches against constant counter-attacks and under incessant bombardment from every gun the Germans could bring to bear on the position. At midnight on the 16th the 2nd Battalion relieved the troops of the 3rd Brigade in the trenches from Chalk Pit down Hugo Trench to Hurray Alley. During the whole of the 17th the German bombardment continued with an even intensity which made the position one pandemonium for the men of the 2nd Battalion.

The line was very thinly held. The whole strength of the battalion was only 614 souls when day broke on the 18th. That was the day which knew the climax of the situation.

At four o'clock in the morning the German artillery opened a terrific fire on the whole battalion front line and supports. For forty minutes the bombardment continued at full pressure. Then it lifted and the German troops attacked, using liquid fire. On the left wing the Germans succeeded in entering the trenches held by No. 4 Company; but a bombing party was at once organized, and they were driven out again, leaving behind a _flammenwerfer_ and a considerable number of dead.

Learmonth (who was then Acting Major) was in command of Nos. 2 and 3 Companies. He saw that a number of the Germans, after their advance had been checked within a few yards of our trenches, had found shelter to some extent in a small wood; and to rout them out of the wood a bombing party from No. 3 Company was sent forward. They bombed the Germans out of the wood and down a trench named Horse Alley, driving them into the open, where our snipers and machine-gunners engaged them and cleaned them up.

Throughout the whole of the attack Learmonth showed what his Commanding Officer has named a "wonderful spirit." Absolutely fearless, he so conducted himself that he imbued those with whom he came into contact with some of his personality. When the barrage started he was continually with his men and officers, encouraging them and making sure that no loophole was left through which the enemy could gain a footing. When the attack was launched against the thin Canadian line, Learmonth seemed to be everywhere at once. When the situation was critical, he took his turn at throwing bombs. He was wounded twice, but carried on as if he were perfectly fit and whole. He was wounded a third time, his leg this time being broken, but still he showed the same indomitable spirit. Lying in the trench, he continued to direct his men, encouraging them, cheering them, advising them.

At a quarter past six that morning the battalion headquarters received word that Learmonth was badly wounded and was being carried out of the line on a stretcher; but the enemy attack had been repulsed. He had waited till he saw the finish.

They brought him down to headquarters, and, lying on his stretcher, he gave valuable information to the officers there before he was taken to hospital. He died shortly afterwards--the man who would not give in.

CORPORAL FILIP KONOWAL, 47TH BATTALION

The fighting about Lens in August, 1917, called for more individual dash and initiative on the part of the troops engaged than had been required before. The house-to-house fighting, the repeatedly isolated and difficult positions, the many knotty problems which required instant solution--all these combined to make leadership, whether of a section or a battalion, more arduous and responsible and, with it all, much more fascinating. Such fighting is after the hearts of most Canadians. As was expected, our men did well at it.

After the successful attack on Hill 70, incessant fighting was forced upon our troops to maintain the new positions. The enemy's bombardment was constant and intense. It was decided to continue the offensive and improve our line. The 10th Brigade was instructed to capture Green Crassier and the enemy's defences about this point, and accordingly the attack was arranged for the 21st, with two companies each of the 50th, 46th and 47th Battalions, the 47th Battalion on the right to attack through Cité du Moulin to the Lens-Arras Road and Alpaca Trench.

At 4.35 a.m. our men went forward, penetrating the immediate German barrage without hesitation, and moving as if on parade. The morning was bright and sunny, and our fellows got away in splendid style, though they were badly harassed by machine-gun fire from Green Crassier, a barren expanse of slagheaps and broken railway tracks on the right front. However, our smoke barrage was most effective, and the drums of blazing oil thrown upon the enemy's communication lines and attempted formations did much to take the heart out of his resistance. Crossing the Lens-Arras Road, the troops plunged into the ruined houses beyond, and stiff fighting, in cellars, long dark tunnels, and comparatively deserted outhouses, ensued. Many were the isolated heroic combats that took place, and many men were reported missing after the battle who had fought out their lives in some underground chamber.

Corporal Konowal was in charge of a mopping-up section. In fighting of this description it is an undecided point whether the original assailants or the moppers-up get most excitement. The main attack sweeps on; but in such a rabbit-warren of broken houses and tunnelled foundations many Germans and frequent machine-guns are left to be eliminated at some cost by our following waves. The buildings about the Lens-Arras Road proved difficult enough to clear. The main body of our troops had passed through and continued to the objectives beyond, but a couple of buildings still held Germans and German machine-guns, and there was heavy firing upon the rear of our advancing men. Entering one of these houses Konowal searched for the Germans, and finding no living traces of their occupation, dropped daringly into the cellar. Three men fired at him as he landed, but this he escaped unharmed. Then ensued a sanguinary battle in the dark, a mêlée of rifle fire and bayonets, with the odds three to one. Finally the scuffling ceased and Konowal emerged into the daylight--he had bayoneted the whole crew of the gun!

But this is all taken for granted in the business of mopping-up, and the corporal and his section continued their way along the road, every sense alert to locate the close rifle-crack that might betray the wily sniper. There was a large crater to the east of the road, and from the bodies of our good men before the edge it seemed obvious that a German machine-gun had been in position there. Halting his men, Konowal advanced alone. Upon reaching the lip of the crater he saw seven Germans endeavouring to move the ubiquitous machine-gun into a dugout. He opened fire at once, killing three, and then, charging down upon them, accounted for the rest with the bayonet.

These drastic methods rapidly concluded the clearing of their section of the line, and the corporal and his men moved on up to our new front, where the enemy was delivering heavy and incessant counter-attacks.

Heavy fighting continued throughout the night, and in the morning troops of the 44th Battalion, who were making an attack upon the Green Crassier, requested the aid of a party of the 47th in a raid upon a machine-gun emplacement in a tunnel about Fosse 4. Corporal Konowal was an expert in this subterranean fighting, and his party succeeded in entering the tunnel. Two charges of ammonal, successfully exploded, somewhat demoralized the German garrison, and then Konowal, dashing forward in the darkness with the utter disregard of his own safety he had displayed all through the fighting, engaged the machine-gun crew with the bayonet, overcoming and killing them all. Altogether this good fighting man killed sixteen men in the two days of the actual battle, and continued his splendid work until he was very severely wounded.

PRIVATE THOMAS WILLIAM HOLMES, 4TH CANADIAN MOUNTED RIFLES

Heavy rain had been falling on the Passchendaele country for two days before the 4th Canadian Mounted Rifles waded up to their positions in the front line, between Wallemolen and Bellevue. All the dykes and ditches of the low country were full and overflowing, and even in that short space of time ground that was firm and solid had become dangerous swamp. However, the men pushed on through the darkness, and the slipping and splashing, the long halts, the interminable discussions with somewhat vague guides, all came to an end at last, and at five o'clock on the morning of October 25th the regiment had arrived at its battered line. Through the day the weather cleared, the sun and wind considerably improved the ground, and the men were able to discern their objectives for the following day's attack--occasionally with mild misgiving, for there seemed entirely too much water about the low hills and copses they had to traverse.

The C.M.R. were on the extreme left of the Canadian Corps front, with the Hood Battalion of the Royal Naval Division on their left, and the 43rd Battalion on the right. Their objectives were Woodland Copse and Source Farm, and it was hoped to consolidate a strong line upon Wallemolen Ridge, all with a view to the establishment of a good jumping-off line for the capture of Passchendaele town itself. Though the clearing of the weather had greatly improved the ground, it also improved the visibility and the German artillery and riflemen made very effective shooting upon our hastily improvised communication lines. The persistent bombardment was very severe indeed, and while many gallant attempts were made to supply the soldiers in the front line with munitions, time after time the men of the carrying party were wiped out and the supplies dispersed by the incessant shells. Ammunition was plentiful, however, but the men went into action the following day with practically empty water-bottles.

Soon after five o'clock on the 26th the troops were assembled in the jumping-off positions, "C" and "D" Companies in advance of the front line, and "A" and "B" Companies in close support. As our barrage opened at twenty minutes to six, the heavy rain began again, making the ground very difficult and slippery as our fellows went forward. Heavy fighting occurred at once, a line of pill-boxes across the flanks of the low hills maintaining concentrated machine-gun fire, and all these small fortresses had to be stormed with the bayonet. But they did not take long to clear, and after a few minutes of close bayonet work our troops swept through and on to the stubborn resistance of the Wallemolen-Bellevue line. Here was a serious check. North-east of Wolf Copse a German pill-box was situated, its own strong defences supplemented by a machine-gun mounted close to the building on each side, and against their fire our men advanced, at times up to their waists in water. It was not possible to advance quickly, and man after man of our small attacking force went down into the mud. Reinforcements from "A" Company came up on the right, and a series of gallant attempts were made to rush the enemy's position, which was holding up our entire local advance. Each time our men failed to get home, and eventually they were forced to take whatever cover was possible some fifty yards from the pill-box. At this moment Private Holmes advanced alone.

Making his way forward, indifferent to the concentrated fire of the two guns, Holmes reached a point from which he could throw his bombs. Then, with marvellous coolness, he hurled his missiles, with such precision that he succeeded in knocking out each gun, one after the other, killing or wounding every man about them. But this result was not sufficient for him, and he returned to his comrades for more ammunition. Securing another bomb from a friend, once more Holmes ran forward alone, this time getting close to the pill-box itself. Landing his bomb within the entrance of the concrete fort, he caused such an explosion in the confined space that the unhappy survivors of the garrison crawled out and surrendered. One does not know how Private Holmes escaped the sweeping fire that was poured upon him, but there is no doubt that his gallant action saved a critical situation, and allowed our men to push forward and establish a strong line in advance of their intermediate objective. Here they held back counter-attack after counter-attack, subjected to intense bombardment and heavy machine-gun fire from the high ground on the right, until later in the day the gallant capture of Bellevue Spur by the 43rd and 52nd Battalions cleared the situation, and permitted the consolidation of a strong line.

LIEUTENANT (ACTING CAPTAIN) CHRISTOPHER PATRICK JOHN O'KELLY, 52ND BATTALION

When the Canadians went up to take the ridges before Passchendaele the men of the 52nd Battalion were in support, and were not pleased with their minor share in the preliminary offensive. Their fears were not justified, however, for no battalion engaged played a larger or more gallant part in the attack.