Rations on the Western Front

Trench Life; Canada's Part in the Present War; Empire Day, May 23rd, Ontario Department of Education, 1918

"An army marches on its stomach," said Napoleon; he might have added with even more truth that it also fights on its stomach. Put a soldier in the front line, cold, wet, covered in mud, his stomach empty, and he becomes indifferent—nay, he even "looks for" a wound which will take him to "Blighty." But if the same soldier has a warm feeling in the region of his stomach, and has to let out a couple holes in his belt, he feels that the people at home can't be blamed for the mud and the wet, and it is his business to give Fritz "what is coming to him." Hence he "carries on" to the last ounce of his strength and the last drop of his blood.

The rationing of the British army is practically perfect, and rarely or never breaks down. Every twenty-four hours the Army Service Corps brings up rations to the brigade quartermaster. This officer divides them into lots, according to the numerical strength of the units to which they will be issued. By a further process of division, the supplies reach the company or battery stores. In each platoon a non-commissioned officer, usually a corporal, is detailed to draw and issue the rations for his platoon. Such supplies as fresh meats, tea, coffee, and flour are turned over to the company cooks by the quartermaster-sergeants, the individual soldiers handling only "dry rations" like bread, canned goods, jam, biscuits, and pickles. Tommy spends much spare time cooking, and, for originality if not for delicacy, his dishes would put a French chef to shame.

Here is a favourite recipe: Cut fine a half a pound of cheese, mix with a tin of canned beef, add bread crumbs and all the bacon grease available. Fry over a candle in a mess-tin and eat quickly, because, if the odour spreads, a crowd will gather, and you will either be lynched or forced to divide, according to the humour of the spectators.

Fearful and wonderful puddings are made from "plum and apple" jam, bread crumbs, and tea, and any other ingredients which come handy. Hot tea is usually the solvent for shaving soap. It may be a trifle sticky, but it has a wonderful softening effect on the stiffest whiskers, and is said to be a most beneficial demulcent.

When a soldier is in the front line, his menu will "take a tumble," because great difficulty will be experienced in bringing up hot food, especially if the Germans are bombarding. Under cover of darkness, usually about nine o'clock, the company transport—fifty men with mules and limbers—brings the rations to the entrances of the communication trenches. Here they are turned over to the company-sergeant-major, and through his distribution to the individual men. Each soldier carries what is called emergency, or "iron," rations, not to be used "except in dire necessity." These consist of a tin of corned beef, four hardtacks, oxo cubes, dry tea, and a little sugar. All fire and smoke must be very carefully screened, so as to not draw enemy artillery fire.

Posted by regimentalrogue at 12:01 AM EDT

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Trench Warfare

Soldier Writes That Sometimes Months Pass Without Seeing Enemy

The Pittsburgh Gazette Times, 17 September 1916

In this trench warfare perhaps months pass without our men seeing one of the enemy. Their artillery bombards our trenches daily (we call it our ration) and rifles' and machine guns' fire goes on in a desultory fashion; every day brings its quota of casualties, and the communiques say that "everything is quiet on the western front."

That sounds most uninteresting. It simply means that no big action has taken place, but for those who are there it has been lively enough, with the constant toll of digging and repairing trenches, the carrying up of stores and rations, etc., all under enemy fire, writes William J. Adie in National Magazine. In these "quiet" times all the work is done under cover of darkness. During the day, if you could overlook the opposing lines of trenches, you would see not a sign of life—all you would see would be a few lines of earth all jumbled up and nothing would suggest war or danger to you. For everyone is underground, and no living thing could move above ground safely.

On approaching the trenches, sometimes when still over a mile away, you enter a communications trench which twists its way up to the front, passing through lines after line of support trenches until you reach the front trench, which may be only 30 yards from the enemy. Here you may move about freely unseen and perfectly safe, except when the enemy sends over his shells and rifle grenades and trench mortar bombs and other unpleasant things, in hope of hitting someone by chance.

To get under ground in this way means much labor. Someone with a fondness for figures has calculated that, considering that each side has about five lines of trenches stretching from Switzerland to the sea, that the trenches are of a certain width and depth, etc., more earth has been moved by soldiers with pick and shovel than was moved to make the Panama Canal.

And it is not as if trenches once made were permanent; shell and frost and rain combine to destroy them, and the labor of keeping them in repair never ceases. The fight against water and mud is another that never ceases. Neglect a trench for 24 hours, and in this awful land of Flanders you are up to your waist in water, so that draining and pumping work goes on all the time.

I have said that in the daytime no one moves above ground, but as soon as night falls the whole countryside swarms with men. Rations must be carried up and stores and ammunition.

All relief of troops are done at night, and at night the severely wounded are brought down, for the trenches are too narrow for a stretcher, so that the night time is my busiest time, as well as everybody else's. It is a weird business, stumbling about in the dark without lights, with odd shells and stray bullets constantly reminding you of the danger which is ever-present.

It is interesting to see th careless way in which all ranks go about their work without, you would think, any thought of the enemy or his bullets. A few months out here has one of two effects' either a man's nerves go to pieces and he is sent home for a rest, or he settles down to the work and takes everything as it comes without turning a hair.

On the whole, this regiment has been fortunate in keeping out of bad places, although we have been in some fairly big actions, and have experienced most of the horrors of war, including poison gas. At present we are well protected against gas and no one fears it, although it is very likely that the Germans will use it again.

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Writes From Somme of the Big Fight

Dawson Daily News, 5 February 1917

Harold Jukes Marshall, assayer of B.N.A. of this city, has received the following interesting letter from his brother, Major W.A.J. Marshall, of the Seventy-second Highlanders, who were recruited at Vancouver, and who have done some of the heavy fighting at the Somme:

"Guernsey, December 6, 1917—When we first went to France, we landed at La Havre, and after two days' wait went on trains to Ypres, where we had a couple of days in the trenches, and then moved on to Kimmelle, where we spent a month and thought the trench life, with the rats and other discomforts, very hard, but find it was nothing compared to where we were going.

"Near to the end of September we moved back to a little place near St. Omer. It was a very hard march of about fifty miles, which we covered in three days.

"There we went into training for the special kind of warfare in use on the Somme, and after a week there were moved down to the well-known Somme.

"On arriving there we were camped first outside Albert, in a sea of mud. The men had tarpaulins and the officers tents. We did not go into action for some time, though. Our work consisted of supplying working parties at night to fig new trenches when advances had been made, and carry up all kinds of material to the men in the trenches.

"This was particularly nasty work, because we were not fighting, but were always under fire and were continually losing men. Even in camp we were not free from shells, as the Boche often dropped a few close to us, and once in the middle of the camp, but no one was hurt.

"After that we went to the trenches to hold them, and, unfortunately, it was a new trench and when it rained the sides fell in and for three days out of seven we stood in mud up to and above our knees. The men we relieved had to dig out and when our men came out they were absolutely all in.

"It is impossible to imagine what it was like, and no matter how well it is told to you, you cannot realize what it was like, but you can think it was bad when I say the man and officers after the trip looked like walking ghosts—thin and weak. The trenches were in such a bad condition that it was hard to get food up to them, and water was scarce, too.

"The next time we went in was for forty-eight hours and the weather conditions were much better. I had then taken command of C Company and my job at that time was to go up and dig a new trench and occupy it, which we did. This had to be done under fire, and until the men had dug down to a depth sufficient to give them some cover we had quite a lively time, and never saw anything like the way they dug. The Boche was about 500 yards away. On the second morning, the thirteenth, I was hit in the arm.

"The day opened with our artillery starting a 'Hymn of Morning Hate,' as we call it, which is nothing but a heavy bombardment lasting about one hour. The Germans came back on our line with the same, as they probably thought we were coming over, and I got a piece of their shell.

"After things had become quiet and breakfast was over I went to the dressing station, and would have gone from there to the hospital only I saw the colonel, who told me we were to go over the top and take the German trench beyond Regina, which we held. So after being dressed I went back to the line and arranged everything for the attack in the afternoon.

"However, about noon it was all called off and we were relieved that night.

"After another rest of about five days we went back for a trips of forty-eight hours at most and had another trench to dig, but we did not come out for six days, the relief being postponed each day. You cannot imagine the strain of sitting in the trench with then Boche pounding you all the time with his artillery. The only thing we could do was a little sniping to help break the monotony, and we got many of his men at this game. The last day we were in it rained and we were over our knees in no time and were all soaked to the skin before we came out.

"That was our last trip on the Somme and after we started away from this area leave opened, and, being the senior married officer outside the colonel, I was first on the list, and very glad to get it.

"I will probably get back about the 15th and spend Christmas in the trench.

"I had my wound examined here yesterday and find the bone was cracked, but will be O K soon.

"I think I have covered most of my trip and all I can add would be horrors, and if you see the Somme pictures you will have a small idea of what goes on there nearly every day. Wishing you both a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year."

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Trench Training

How it is Carried On At Liverpool
Practical Work

The Sydney Morning Herald, 19 January 1916

It has been recognised during the present war that the old manner of drilling soldiers in long lines, or even teaching them to form the hollow square—so successful against native attacks when dealing with coloured enemies—has had to be abandoned. To-day once the soldier understands the platoon and extended order drill and the real meaning of the word "discipline" he is initiated into a class of warfare never dreamed of before. Shooting, of course, is an essential part of his training, but there has been added to this the work of the navvy and the cricketer. He is instructed in the art of trench digging at night. He is also taught to throw bombs and to catch them, and return them whence they came, if, in the meantime, they have not exploded.

When Liverpool camp was first established a series of trenches were dug on the eastern side of George's River in a line with the field hospital, and formed a show spot in the camp on Sundays and holidays when relations and friends trooped out there by the thousand. They were ideal trenches—for visitors—but were useless from the point of view of the man at the front. They were fine and roomy, and conveyed the impression that to line in them must mean to the men one long picnic.

Lessons From the Front

Then some officer at Gallipoli or in Flanders or France sent along some exact drawings of trenches as they really have to be dug in the fighting which goes on to-day, and all the ideas of those who had been instructing recruits in the science of underground warfare were suddenly and completely "knocked higher that Gilderoy's kite," and a readjustment of the work had to be made. Those "Sunday afternoon" trenches became things of the past. They may have taught the prospective fighter how to dig, but they were not the real thing, and they had to be promptly discarded.

Trenches, in the fighting now being waged, are not attractive, neither are they commodious. They are severely utilitarian. They are not dug during daylight, but after nightfall, and, as far as Liverpool camp is concerned, they are not one of the show features, being situated a considerable distance from the main camp in a paddock that runs down to a thick belt of bush on one side and on the other three sides has small patches of scrub, which would form ideal shelters for snipers if they chose to dig in behind them, as the Turks did at Gallipoli.

The officer in charge of the depot training school took a "Herald" reporter to see these trenches, and explained their construction, if one can use such a word with regard to excavations. Coming across the paddock suddenly and without having previously been warned that it was a care of "ware trench," the ordinary visitor would not know that those innocent mounds of dried turf hid a perfect network of trenches. Reaching the summit of the first mound one looked into a narrow pit 5-feet deep that seemed to lose itself in a kind of maze or Chinese puzzle.

Method of Construction

"Every part of the trenches must communicate with every other," explained the officer, "even if they extend for miles, and they must be so constructed that attacks from any quarter can be repulsed. We don't dig them in one straight line, as many people suppose, for the simple reason that we must be prepared for either flank or rear attacks. We don't dig them wide and deep, either, but in a sort of Grecian key pattern, so that if a shell explodes in one portion of the trench only the few men in that portion are placed hors de combat.

"To explain the trenches as simply as possible," continued the officer, "we make the men dig them down till the level of the ground is up to their shoulders, and the excavation is only as wide as their shoulders. This means a depth of five feet with a width of 18 inches. The fire trench is generally 15 feet in length, and then comes the traverse. This is a resisting block of land left on either side of each firing trench, but connected with it by a trench running round the rear. This block of land, which is about six or eight feet thick, is considered shell-resisting, or, as I explained before, it serves to prevent a shell falling in one fire trench harming the men in the next one. 'In other words, it is the armour-plating. In the fire trenches three dugouts are driven from the base forward towards the enemy lines, and these can be utilised as resting or sleeping quarters, and are practially impervious to either shell or rifle fire. These sleeping holes are driven in 13 feet.

Soldiers' House in War

"Behind the fire trenches is an observation trench, connected with the fire trenches by the same narrow slits in the earth, and behind these again run the communications trenches which zig-zag in and out to minimize the danger of officers of men moving up and down then being harmed by enemy fire. Should a man be bowled over in the trenches either by shell, bomb, or rifle fire, they are so constructed that, in spite of their narrowness, he can be removed on a stretcher to the communications trench, and so to the rear, where he can be attended to by the ambulance men.

"There is one other point I wish to impress upon you with regard to why we now dig in in such close quarters," added the officer. "Hostile aircraft above the trenches we dug in the early days of the camp could have spotted those trenches almost as clearly as they could George's River, but these new trenches, built on the lines of the experience gained in actual warfare, thanks to what we have learned from returned officers and men, are so narrow that it would take a smart pilot flying at over a thousand feet to distinguish them from their surroundings, which we make and keep as natural as possible.

"The men are taken out and taught to dig themselves into these trenches at night, where they often sleep and have their meals, and then we have given them further instruction and lectures on the why and wherefore during the hours of daylight. So much depends on how quickly men can dig themselves in now that trenching is one of the most important items in the training of every man who joins the A.I.F., and this portion of his training is as thorough as the experience of the staff can make it, thanks to the information forwarded by those daily and weekly living and fighting in trenches at the front."

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Givenchy, June 1915

Canada's Part in the Present War; Empire Day, May 23rd, Ontario Department of Education, 1918

This battle was fought on June 15th, 1915, immediately north of La Bassée Canal. It was only one of a series of engagements between the close of the battle of Festubert, May 26th, and the beginning of the great battle at Loos on September 25th; and although it will not be given a large part in the history of the campaign—Sir John French in his despatch reviewing the conflict between Festubert and Loos merely mentions the engagement—yet it was a furious action, and one in which the Canadians again showed their mettle. It is true that the fortified positions which were won here had to be abandoned later, but that was no fault of the Canadians.

The 1st Canadian (Ontario) Battalion was detailed to secure two front lines of trenches running south for 150m yards from a fortified position called "Stony Mountain" to another known as "Dorchester." Previous to the day of the attack the men, with their usual energy and ingenuity, had secretly brought up to the front trench two 18-pounder field-pieces. Fifteen minutes before the attack was due to take place, these suddenly opened fire point-blank at the Germen defences only seventy-five yards away, destroying the enemy's machine-guns and smashing the barbed wire entanglements. These guns naturally became the mark of the German batteries, and after fifteen minutes they were both silenced, one by a direct hit and the other by the bursting of a shell; but they had dome good work in clearing the way for the infantry.

Just as the guns fired their last shot, the 1st Battalion, supported by the rest of the 1st Brigade, rose from the trenches and raced toward the front lines. In a remarkably short time they had taken possession of "Dorchester" and the front trench. Some remained to reverse the parapet—that is to change the sandbags so that the trench would face the enemy—others charged forward to the second line trench. Here there was a desperate resistance; many Germans were bayoneted, and others were taken prisoners. This trench, too, changed hands; and some of the 1st Company reached even the third-line trench, but this could not be held.

So much for the "Dorchester" end of the attack. The enemy's fire was much more deadly from the direction of "Stony Mountain," and the assaulting parties here suffered severely. Bombing parties sent against this fortress were almost annihilated; machine-gun and rifle-fire literally mowed down man after man, rank after rank; so that finally the Battalion had to be content with erecting barricades just south of "Stony Mountain" and with holding the second-line trench at "Dorchester." This latter was obviously a hazardous undertaking, because the trenches were raked by a flank fire from "Stony Mountain." To make matters worse, the supply of bombs ran short and could not be replenished. Four messengers who were sent back in succession were shot dead. The bombers were, therefore, helpless; and some idea of their chagrin may be gathered from the actions of some unknown man, who, having thrown his last bomb, stood on the parapet of the Germen front-line trench, hurling stones at the advancing enemy till he was shot down.

Since the terrific enemy fire from "Stony Mountain" prevented the British from advancing, they were unable to offer the Canadians any assistance. The latter held on doggedly ion the face of heavy casualties till about 9.30, when they fell back to their own trenches. Though the action had been a gallant one, it was fruitless. When it is stated that, out of twenty-three officers and eight hundred men, only three officers and two hundred fifty men were able to return, no further proof of the grim determination of the attack is needed.

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Picture of Trench Life that is Very Different from War in Other Days

The Deseret News, Salt Lake City, Utah, 23 June 1917
(Special Correspondent)

London, June 13.—The British infantryman in the trenches in France, where he will soon be joined by General Pershing's soldiers, live all his days and nights in danger. If he goes for six months unhurt he is an object of curiosity, a man with a strange fortune.

His working hours are governed only by the limits of his strength, yet he grumbles merely by way of diversions, for his desire is to win this war, and nothing else very much matters. If you were to ask him how he was winning the war, he would tell you, in his ironical way, that, so far as he could see, the way to win the war was not by fighting, as some who had never seen war, mistakenly thought, but by working, and that life for him was one long interminable working party. He would also tell you some entertaining things about them, for they are of endless variety.

There is nothing in the trenches that pays more than hard, well regulated work. In this way in a few weeks a miserable ditch can be transformed into a model habitation, complete with reception rooms, bedrooms, and all modern conveniences. Take as instance the largest and most enterprising work party on which a certain battalion was ever engaged. Its orders were simply to march out half-way across "No Man's Land" and dig there an entirely new trench complete with barbed wire entanglements, firestep and communications trenches. This task was accomplished in two nights, and remarkable as it may sound, with no casualties.

"Tommy's" private opinion was that "Fritz" was too much frightened by the mysterious something that was going on out there in the darkness, to fire straight. These trenches were subsequently revetted and equipped with dug-outs. Soon they became flooded, knee-deep in mud and slush and had to be drained day and night with scoops and pumps. Later they were furnished with scaling ladders and an attack launched from them. Still later they were completely obliterted by an enemy barrage and were entirely re-built more strongly than ever. There is always work for working parties in this changing world.

Work While They "Rest."

You might think, since war is nearly all working parties, that when a battalion "rests," it "rests" from working parties. But this is not so. On the contrary. Being comparatively fresh, a battalion "resting" is regarded as an ideal source of labor supply. A five mile march "there" at dusk and a five mile march "back" at dawn, irrespective of weather conditions, is very often how the night passes when you go to "rest."

Wire can never be too thick. That is one of the laws of working parties. Twenty men plus a "covering party" of say five men and an N.C.O. is an average size wiring party for a single Company frontage, making 100 men for the battalion. But if the wiring is urgent, it may be necessary to double or even treble these numbers. You must be a good soldier and well trained to do wiring properly. The knowledge that he is standing upright in the open without a vestige of cover, with machine guns, rifles, shrapnel, high explosive and "minnies" blazing all around, often tends to make it difficult for a man to concentrate his mind on what he is doing. Then the wire has a peculiar tendency to get entangles; the metal-work, screw-pickets clank together like church bells; the tin flaps at the sides of the coils clatter and scrape enough to rouse the dead, or so it at least seems to the wiring party as it gets to work in the open.

Almost equally important trench work is revetting; that is to say, strengthening by means of stakes, angle irons, wire netting, and sandbags, the walls of the trenches, the firestep and parapet, Unless a firestep is revetted almost at once it will quickly crumble away, and it is an only less urgent work to revet the trench wall and parapet. Rain plays havoc with a trench and it is far more difficult to repair a fallen-in section than it is to revet strongly in the first instance. Sandbag revetting is perhaps the most important of all, but like other simple things, a mystery until you know the way, for unless you know the way, bags piled on the top of one another with whatever care you do it, will bulge and collapse in two days. But by the proper use of "headers" and "stretchers" by keeping "chokers" turned inwards; by not filling the bags too full, and by properly "binding" angles and corners, you will make a sandbag revetment that will endure. Good revetting is a work of art.

Lively When Targets Appearance

It is most eerie of all when you must work standing at two or three paces interval along the top of the parapet, for then you become silhouetted against the sky or the glare of the enemy flares. A night may be as serene and quiet as paradise; but place half-a-dozen with pick and shovels on the parapet, and in two minutes it is as though there were a frontal attack in progress. In no other form of working party is the call more often heard of "pass the word for the stretcher-bearers."

So the nights pass. Hardly a trench or communications trench is without its own particular workers, and all are employed simultaneously. In one spot there may be pumping, in another revetting:—in another section of trench that has blown in during the day is being re-built; in another a party is deepening and widening; in another digging "sumppits;" in another constructing dug-outs. In yet another endless streams of carrying parties go past—some with engineers' materials, some with rations, some with mails, some with ammunition. But in every trench some working party is at work.

While all this is in progress the vigilant look-out is never for one moment relaxed. Each "post" and gap is properly provided with its look-outs and their reliefs (on urgent occasions—as at Loos and the Somme—even the sentries had to put in a spell of work during their "2 hours off"); the scouts have to make their usual excursions; the Lewis gunners carry out their fire orders, the company signallers are continuously linked by wire with the battalion headquarters, the officers on duty ceaselessly patrol their company lines, the bombers, the machine gunners, the trench mortar batteries, and behind all the artillery, are always in the alert. Everyone knows exactly what to do in case of a gas alarm or an attack; and each man as he works has his gas helmet, his rifle and ammunition ready to his hand.

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Digging a Trench Under Fire is Regular Task for Tommy Atkins

The Spokesman-Review, Spokane, Washington, 20 March 1916
(Augustus Muir in the London Daily Mail.)

It was the brigade major who began it. I remember the morning distinctly. He came round one the traverse with a periscope in his hand, a staff captain at his heels, and made an exhaustive survey of the ground in front.

"Bad field of fire," he muttered, "The Boches must be 400 yards away just here; but there's ground in front we can't see—dead ground. Bad field of fire altogether."

"Rotten," agreed the staff captain, "The hollow could hide a couple of companies of the Boches in case of an attack. Now if we put an advance trench out there——"

"Just what I was going to say," said the brigade major. "Just what I've brought you here to see. We'll mention it to the brigadier this afternoon."

In the afternoon the brigadier came down the trench.

"Ex–actly," said the brigadier, in his neat, precise accents, "Ex–actly." He turned to the C.O. of our battalion. "What do you think of it, colonel?"

"Quite agree," said the colonel.

Few Words Set Machinery Going

And that was all that was said; thus ran a few short sentences set a vast machinery at work: The little neat brigadier's "Ex–actly!" was like pressing the button which controlled an immense restrained activity.

Satisfied, the group of officers moved down the trench, leaving behind them the disturbing knowledge that something was about to happen.

That evening we got our orders, and by the morning Tommy knew what the making of an advance trench meant.

A "covering party" is picked. They are put under command of an outstanding N.C.O.—a man who has been tried in the fire of achievement and has been found reliant. Their duties are hazardous and vital. On them devolves the strain of providing a protective screen between the Boches and our working party, which is about to go out. They must lie in the open, watching, waiting, alert, untiring, should they chance to run into a little patrol their work must be short, sharp and to the point. There can be no dallying when it's one's own skin—or that of Fritz. And they must use the bayonet only; for to fire would be but to disclose their locality to a dozen enemy machine guns waiting to belch forth lead.

Ticklish Job of the Patrol

When the hour appointed draw near, these picked men get ready. They stand waiting, cigarette in mouth, for their orders to move. There are the crisp thudding of a maxim down the line, and occasional quick crackle of rifle fire, and the angry roar of bursting shrapnel in the distance. "Patrol ready, Corporal?" The corporal signifies assent; cigarettes are pout out; bayonets are fixed; equipments buckled, and with a last "Cheer-ho!" the covering party clamber over the parapet of the trench and are gone.

Ten or fifteen minutes later a dark figure crawls back, appears for a swift moment against the night sky, and drops with a spatter of mud in the trench. It is the officer. He reports to the company captain that he has "placed" the patrol; that all is ready for the working party. The external order to "Carry on" is given. The next moment a long string of men scramble from the cloggy depths of the trench and follow their officer into the land of unexplored mysteries; the Dead Country; that grey desolation, fraught with unimagined horrors, where the dead are lying; that Long Road which runs from the splashing sea near Dunkirk on the east—for all the world like a vast, grim, black ribbon flung carelessly across Europe.

Function of the Sandbags

Every man bears a sandbag' they are the essence of the whole business. Without them the earlier stages in the making of an advance trench could no more be accomplished than could the completion. The company captain confers with a subaltern; crouching in the open, he gives whispered counsel. "Start here with the trench and make for the outline of that tree; I'll get Kennedy to work toward you with his platoon. You can touch in with each other."

"Right," says the subaltern as his company captain glides out of earshot. "Now then, first man, hand me your sandbag." The subaltern selects his spot and places the sandbag on it. "Hand your bags along the line—pass back the order," Ad so the sandbags travel along the human chain, which stretches back to the firing line and beyond it to a clay pit, where a pack of perspiring Tommies are groveling in the earth and filling the little squat squares of stitched canvas as if their lives depended on their energy. But neither the sweating fellows who fill them nor the subaltern, who lays therm amid the zipping bullets have time to ponder the unique romance residing in these little greyt sandbags, fashioned perchance by some woman's hands in the tranquil firelight of a quiet hearth. Some day—iuf the war spares him—some poet will sing the deathless lyric of sandbags and other mundane things of trench life, but the time is not yet.

Moving toward his left, the subaltern plots out the future trench with its traverses and cover. He needs the eye of a cat for the job, because where the ground is unsuitable the trench must avoid it, and swerve backwards or forward. Half-an-hour's work and his colleague heaves in sight. "I'll touch in with you now," says the subaltern; they place the last few sandbags, and the long line, laid unerringly in the darkness, meets ion the center. The advance trench is happed out.

When the Real Danger Begins

It is with the first clink of pick and shovel that the real danger begins. As soon as the Boches realize that out in front something is doing they get busy, and 10 rounds rapid become too frequent for health. Digging—feverish digging—is the order of the night. Your arms are aching, you head is splitting, you want to lie down and rest forever; but, urged by the knowledge that they must occupy the trench in three days, the men settle down to it with braced sinews. A flare goes up in the night, making a lurid green scar in the sky and falling 20 yards away. Picks and shovels are dropped and Platoon Fifteen lies hugging the wet earth, barely daring to twitch an eyelid. As soon as the flare burns out they are at it again like clustering bees. With "Stand to!" an hour before dawn comes the order to retire. The men file back, thanking their stars that they even have a trench to come home to—after all there is no place like home. Picks and shovels are stored. The officer creeps out and recalls the patrol.

Death Takes Its Toll

Dawn comes, and with it repose and respite, till night relentlessly drags them forth again to face the machine guns that have been paid during the day on the fresh sandbags. Casualties? These are but little incidents in the great adventure. Two nights pass and often a quick cry has told someone's mates that he is passing from them! Casualties? The subaltern puts a black stroke against each man in his platoon roll, but would fain hold back his hand from adding up the number.

As dawn breaks on the third day the subaltern inspects his work. The advance trench is finished; there are a firing-step, loopholes, cover and a communications trench has been cut out. But will it do? Will the brigadier be satisfied? In the forenoon the brigadier himself comes 'round. "An excellent field of fire," he says. "How many men have you lost?"

Such is the epic of the advance trench.

Posted by regimentalrogue at 12:01 AM EDT

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The Trenches of the Western Front

Trench Life; Canada's Part in the Present War; Empire Day, May 23rd, Ontario Department of Education, 1918

We never knew till now how muddy mud is,
We never knew how muddy mud could be.
– Trench Song

Trenches are like the suburbs in a great city. You are faintly conscious that people live in the next street, but you never see them. Your neighbours are as self-contained and silent as yourself. Sometimes their look-outs or machine-guns become loquacious; then you, too, grow conversational; and the whole line talks freely to the Germans two hundred yards away. It is only when your "stunt" in the front line is temporarily over, and you are marched back to billets, that you are able to cultivate your neighbour's exclusive society.

The front line or "fire" trench as it is called, is the nearest trench to the enemy. In front of the fire trench is a barbed wire entanglement. This barrier is slightly lower than the parapet of the trench, and is about ten feet in front of it; thus allowing sentries in the trenches to observe and fire over top of the wire. It is constructed by driving stakes firmly into the ground and twining the barbed wire about them in an intricate and criss-cross a manner as possible, so that it is a physical impossibility for soldiers to get through, unless the entanglement is first blown up by shell fire or cut with wire-cutters. This barrier is about twenty feet from front to rear, and extends in a practically unbroken line along both sides of the west front. German use iron stakes; the Allies, wood. Many a soldier, crawling about in the darkness, engaged in patrol work or bombing raids, owes his life to this; for, if he feels an iron post, he knows he is near a German trench, and withdraws as unobtrusively as possible.

The fire trench is from six to eight feet deep, and is divided into "fire bays," the fire bay being the distance, about thirty feet, between "two traverses." The traverse is a barricade in the trench reinforced with sandbags and "revetted" with branches of trees or poultry netting, to keep the earth from slipping in wet weather. The traverse is to prevent enfilading fire. It a trench were to be built straightaway in a direct line, the Germans could sweep hundreds of yards of it with machine-gun fire. Again, if a shell should burst in a straight trench, it would wound or kill many men on its right and left. In a traversed trench, a shell can do damage only in the fire bay in which it lands; and Tommy is an expert at making a quick exit around the traverse on such an occasion.

The front wall of the trench is called the "parapet," the rear wall is called the "parados." The top of the front wall is reinforced with two to four layers of sandbags, covered with earth. Cleverly disguised loopholes for observation and sniping purposes are constructed in the parapet. Saps, or small narrow trenches, cleverly disguised, run under the barbed wire out into No Man's Land, and are known as "listening posts" or "bombing saps."

At the bottom of the front wall of the fire bay is constructed a heavy wooden platform about two feet wide and two and a half feet high, strongly reinforced underneath by sandbags. This platform is called the fire step and, by standing on it at night, soldiers can look over the top of the parapet, listening and observing for undue activities on the part of the Germans in No Man's Land. During an attack, the men can stand on the fire step and rest their rifles or mount machine-guns on the top of the parapet, and thus cover the advancing enemy.

Dugouts and bomb stores with shell-proof covers are built into the wall of the trench—generally into the parados behind a traverse, so as to protect the entrance from shell fragments or enfilade fire.

Running back from the fire trench are the communication trenches. These are about three feet wide, and are built in zig-zag formation, to prevent their being raked by enemy fire. They are generally "one-way streets," that is, one trench is used for the entrance, another for the departure of troops. At intervals are built recesses, into which stretcher-bearers, ration-carriers, or others, may step, while troops movements are in progress.

In the rear of the front line, there suns a support trench, with barbed wire and fire steps like the front line. Here are kept various stores, such as food, ammunition, bombs, etc. From it reinforcements can be quickly supplied to the front line, and it forms a fort if the troops are forced out of the fire trench. Immediately in the rear of these trenches is generally a ruined village, where reserves are quartered in bomb-proof cellars, dug deep below the shattered houses.

At a varying distance behind the trenches is usually to be found a road, with steep banks on each side, into which the communications trenches lead. In the banks are "elephant dugouts," twenty to forty feet deep. These are supported by steel girders, and each can comfortably accommodate from thirty to fifty men. They are often well-furnished and electrically lighted. Many German dugouts had carpet or linoleum on the floors, papered walls, easy chairs, pianos (looted, of course), and other indications that the occupants had come to stay. Reserve troops, dressing stations, and battalion headquarters occupy elephant dugouts. All communication trenches, dugouts, and roads are named, and while Tommy's nomenclature may disregard geography, it is rich in imagination. Hyde Park Row, Whitechapel, Hindenburg Alley, Yonge Street, Rosedale, may all be in the same sector. "My Little Gray Home in the West" is next-door to the Ritz-Carlton; a little farther along are "Vermin Villa," "Rat's Retreat," and "The Suicide Club." One wag hung on a dugout entrance this sign: "To let. All modern inconveniences, including gas and water."

Away behind the front are located the rest billets. "Rest" is in most respects a misnomer, because troops in billets have to drill, repair roads, dig trenches, act as carrying-in parties, and withal keep spotlessly clean and fit. This is essential, because the least slackening means inefficiency and mischief.

Posted by regimentalrogue at 12:01 AM EDT

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At Home in a Ditch

Seeing Trenches as Soldiers See Them

Boston Evening Transcript, 9 February 1915
(From the Manchester Transcript)

I wonder how many people have a mental image of the trenches which is at all like the real thing. I have seen photographs of men standing in a trench behind a covering line of mangel wurzels, or was it beet-root?—which are true enough, but hardly characteristic. No doubt many people imagine the trenches to be a regular and formidable series of earthworks which turn a whole valley into a sort of fortress. They have heard of all sorts of elaborations which get mentioned in letters, not because they are characteristic, but just because they are peculiar. As a matter of fact, the surprising thing about the trenches is that, like everything else in this war, they make so little difference to the normal appearance of the landscape until you get quite close to them. If an invisible wayfarer could walk past them during the day he might very easily get through without noticing anything peculiar unless an artillery bombardment happened to be going on. Rifle fire and attacks are nearly all at dawn or dusk or night. He would have to be invisible, for any visible wayfarer near the trenches by day would, of course, be snipes. A few do make their way to and fro—orderlies with messages mostly, who creep along ditches and dash across exposed intervals. But the traffic is by night. Every evening a little party of men and mules goes to a point as near as it dare to the battalion and takes shelter behind a house or a wall, where it is met by one or two men of each company to take the daily rations back to the trenches.

Every evening, too, the stretcher-bearers make their way into the trenches and remove the men who have been wounded during the day. And every evening all these men are "sniped" at by the enemy as they go about their work. As you approach the trenches in the dusk the lack of anything abnormal to the whole aspect of things is, of course, even more deceptive than by day. And knowing as one does that once is within a few yards of two lines of men which extend from the sea coast to Switzerland, the blank appearance of everything is tinglingly suggestive. You are walking along an ordinary country road. You have just passed the house where the medical officer and his assistants have taken up their quarters and whence they pass on the wounded by motors to the field ambulance. A couple of days ago he had a house farther up the road, but he was shelled out of it. You pass other houses—you are walking crouched in the ditch by this time. By day you would notice that many of these houses have holes in them and that there are patches of tiles wanting in the roof; but by the evening light they look quite normal, except that the windows are lit up in none of them. Cattle and fowls wander about over the fields, and across the road. They look quite normal too, though in daylight you would see that the cows have not been milked, and the fowls are starving. By daylight, too, you might notice here and there in a field a cow that has been struck down by a shell and killed or another—poor beast—that had been merely wounded. It was to put such a one out of its pain that an officer of ours crept out of his trench the other morning and was killed as he crawled back. A little farther still you may at last come upon the trenches themselves at a point where they chance to touch the road. The reserve trenches these will probably be , and they have perhaps just been lined by a battalion that has marched out to be in support during the night in expectation of an attack and will march back before sunrise in the morning. They are, maybe, an Indian cavalry regiment which has never yet had a chance of fighting on horseback and can contribute only in this way to the defence.

From your ditch by the roadside will probably be a communications trench to the first of these reserve trenches, and from here, if the entrenchments have been in existence for some time, you will find yourself at the beginning of a whole rabbit warren. From here you may be able to get to every point, not only in the reserve trenches, but the fire trenches, too, without ever putting your head above the ground. Walking in slush (here and there modified by straw or bricks thrown down), rubbing clay onto your shoulders from either wall of the narrow passage, you may pass along a whole series of reserve trenches, which seem to be deserted unless you lift up one of the pieces of canvas fixed against the wall and see a silent Indian cavalryman curled up in his little niche. It will be for many reasons a very tortuous walk before you arrive at the fire trenches, or at the colonel's little "dug-out." First of all, because the communications trenches are planned in every sort of zigzag and curl and twist, to be as little as possible end-on to the enemy, and so enfiladed. The colonel's headquarters, for instance, is entered from the back, and approached by a trench which twists around behind it. Moreover, the line of the fire trenches is broken at intervals by traverses—also to protect against possible enfilading—and connected by little semi-circular trenches which skirt around the solid interval of earth. But the way will be tortuous for other reasons. The whole line of the two armies is tortuous beyond the suspicious of any reader who sees it twist a little along the frontier, but suppose it will be straight enough for half a mile. Losses here and gains there are partly a cause of this, but much more is the fact that the whole series of trenches is developed from a skilful use of natural conditions. Sometimes the trench is merely a ditch which has been deepened. At other times the adaptation of a pit or a hollow makes it ten feet deep, and the men have to climb up on ledge to fire out of it. Here and there the connecting trench becomes a tunnel, by having been roofed in. At other places a convenient bush or hedge affords cover which has enabled quite a little cavern to be dug under its protection.

Though the hardship is severe enough the men manage to make themselves more comfortable than might be supposed. They have charcoal braziers which help to keep them warm, and there is even talk—serious talk—of installing electric light. The adjutant has made quite a little office of his "dug-out" and pins up notes and orders and telegrams onto the clay wall in front of him. When the trenches have been in existence long enough there is communication everywhere, though it is often difficult to squeeze by, and as for sleep—well, you can take a little of that as soon as the shelling starts, for you know he will not attack till that is over. The only thing that you can hardly anywhere do is to stand up. If you try it, "ping" almost at once, and you are lucky if you only get your face spluttered with mud. And just out there—sometimes only fifty yards away—they are taking the same precautions about all of us, and peeping with the same curiosity. And between the lines is fifty yards of ordinary field where no one dare venture by day, and only at imminent danger by night, in that fifty yards is now lying one of our officers, killed in last night's attack. Tonight we hope to get him back, but today we can but peep at him. His hand is hanging down, and on his wrists is his watch. It is still going, and from where we are we can see the time.

Posted by regimentalrogue at 12:01 AM EDT

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Officers of the 207th Ottawa and Carleton Battlion, CEF,
Pridham Photo, Amherst, Nova Scotia, Canada

What Officer Must Know Before Selected

List of Subjects Canadians Must Know before Selected For Service in Field

Quebec Telegraph, 8 December 1915

The following War Office circular is promulgated for general information in Canada, giving a list of subjects which a young officer must know, or have some knowledge of, before he can be selected for service in the field. Of course, no officer should be selected as fit for service in the field unless he is physically fit and of an age to make it likely that he will be able to bear the strain of war.

Discipline

• Must have attained a high school standard of discipline.
• Must have attained sufficient self-confidence to command his platoon.

Drill

• Must know squad drill, extended order drill, platoon commander's duties in company drill, bayonet fighting drill.
• Must have obtained sufficient self-confidence to drill a squad, drill a platoon, explain on parade simple movements to a squad.

Musketry

• Must know and be able to explain to a platoon the service rifle, the musketry exercises, the care of arms, the reporting of messages, the judging of distance.
• Should have a knowledge of the theory of rifle fire, the supply of ammunition in the field, range duties.
• Must pass a severe test in the control and direction of fire, the indication of targets, the instruction of a recruit.
• Must be able to carry out test laid down in Musketry Regulations.

Tactics and Field Warfare

• Every officer should be able to handle a platoon in the field.
• Must be able to tell off and post sentries. Arrange posts and reliefs.
• Must know the duties of a commander of an outpost company, a picquuet commander, a sentry and sentry groups, a patrol.
• Should have a knowledge of a company in attack and defence, protection at rest and on the move, telling off an advance guard, telling off a flank guard, telling off an outpost company, composition of a brigade, battery, squadron and battalion.
• Must have a thorough knowledge of march discipline, use of cover, control of men in extended order and in night operations.
• Must be able to write a field message.
• Should have thorough training in writing clear and concise reports of happenings in his vicinty.

Topography

• Must have a good knowledge of map reading, drawing plan of his and adjoining trench, the construction of a range card, use of compass.

Trench Warfare

• Must have a knowledge of handling of commonest bombs and explosives; telling off a working party and allotting a task; loopholing and revetting; common types of trenches and dugouts; entanglements; obstacles; the relief and handling over of a platoon in the trenches by day and night; construction, repair, holding and capture of trenches.
• Must have a knowledge of duties of a leader of a grenade party; methods of training and employment of grenadiers.

Billeting

• Must have a general knowledge of arrangements for billeting; how a platoon is fed in billets, sanitary arrangements; orders for sentries in billets; alarm posts.

Machine Guns

• If possible, have a knowledge of how to fire a machine gun in case of emergency; how to disable a gun without explosives.

Interior Economy and Military Law

1. Powers on an O.C. company.
2. Forfeiture of pay.
3. Fines for drunkenness.
4. How to make a summary of evidence.
5. Definitions and differences between various crimes that may come before an O.C. company, before taken to C.O.
6. Powers of an officers when on detachment.
7. Procedure when a man reports sick; asks for an advance of pay; asks for extension of leave; asks for pass at unauthorized time (i.e., when the O.C. company is away.)
8. Duties of the orderly officer, orderly sergeant, N.C.O.'s of his platoon.
9. How a soldier is paid:—at home; on active service. How to make out a requisition for cash; quittance rolls.
10. Regimental orders, part I, and part 2, as far as affects the pay of the men of the company.
11. Procedure when a man requires new kit:— (a) A free issue; (b) on payment.
    Where the payments appear in the company pay list.
12. What to do in case of a military disturbance outside barracks.
13. When he is on leave; how to deal with men asking for passes and advance of pay.
14. Compliments to be paid to senior officers:— (a) when in command of men; (b) when off duty.
15. Restrictions of an officer on the sick list and how to report sick.
16. How to write an official letter, and the proper channels for it to pass through.
17. What to do when on sick leave.
18. How to keep a trench store book and the procedure on handing out any stores or handing over completely.
19. How to take over a platoon from another officer.
20. Procedure when a soldier is brought up on crime.

Physical Drill

• Must have sufficient knowledge to take his platoon for physical drill parades in billets; taking his platoon for bayonet exercises.

Signalling

• Must have slight knowledge of field telephones, and how to mend a broken line; the form of telephone message used in the service. How to read, take down and write down a verbal message.

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Canadians Obtain Good Experience

Bad Roads Help to Harden Men for Work in France
Finishing Touches
Disciplione Has Been the One Failure—Disobedience Well Punished

The Toronto World, 12 January 1915
By John A. MacLaren, one of The World's Staff Correspondents with the Canadian Expeditionary Force

Salisbury, Eng., Dec. 22.—To turn the raw material into the finished product, to make the recruit—with his woeful lack of knowledge of matter military, probably the most important of which is discipline—into a real soldier, authorities have said that nine months of hard training is necessary. In the British regular army a soldier is not supposed to know all the ropes in less than that period. The Canadians have now been drilling for four months, and they believe they are ready to meet the enemy at any time. Their work has been harder than that of a recruit in the British army in times of peace. They have been living under practically active service conditions in the rain and mud of Salisbury, and not in barracks, with two or three weeks in the autumn of manoeuvres, which is the only occasion when the British regulars get a taste of what war may be like. So after four months, on account of the great emergency, the Canadian volunteers, who have had to undergo untold hardships, may be almost as well equipped for genuine fighting as the man who spends nine months picking up the rudiments of the game in a barracks.

There is much talk of the force going to France in the latter part of January, or five months after the call to arms was sounded throughout Canada, and if this should occur it will not come as a surprise but as a relief. The long wait and surprise will be over.

Stand the Strain

There appears to be every indication that the finishing touches are being applied to the training course. It is recognized that as far as endurance, or ability to stand the strain of warfare is concerned, there are none better than the Canadians. The fact that so few men fall out of the ranks before the conclusion of a twenty-mile march is a revelation.

There is no doubt that the men are physically fit. Their muscles are hard, and working during such bad weather has placed then in splendid condition.

The old system of double company formations instead of platoons is now working smoothly, and officers who were rather green at first, are handling their men with greater confidence and success. The reason for discarding the platoon formation was because it did not work satisfactorily in France. Right here it may be said that the men in harness in England getting ready to fight are taught to a great extent, according to wrinkles found in the firing line. That platoon system would never had been dropped had it not been found unwieldy in France.

There is a certain soldier greatly admired in England. He wears a blue-and-white ribbon on his sleeve. This ais a sign that he has returned from the front on furlough. While he is in England his short vacation is nor one entirely of leisure. In many instances he is found teaching the young soldiers what he himself learned first hand. In the Canadian camp a few of these men have been giving instructions to those who are getting ready. For example, in the important matter of digging trenches they teach the Canadian the width and the depth of trenches and other valuable things in the use of the spade. It has been said that next to the gun the spade is winning this war. At all events the Canadians are taught how to dig trenches properly. These ditches zig-zag here and there across the downs, an indication of the industry of the men who may soon be performing similar work in France.

Leave Cut Off

As has been pointed out in a cable all leave will be cut off after January 1st. One would imagine that this order would disappoint the men. But not so. It has had the other effect. The Canadian believe that this means an early departure, and that is what they want.

Some new equipment has been added to the force. Four or eight new machine guns will be used in each battalion, and each officer of a machine gun squad has been taking instructions on their use. The quick-firers are somewhat different from those formerly used. This type of weapon has been recognized as a great factor in the war. Captain Mckessock, who practiced law in Sudbury for years, and Lieutenant MacDonald of the Queen's Own, are both officers in command of machine guns. This branch if the service has proved very fascinating, if the large waiting list is any criterion.

Poor Discipline

One of the most difficult tasks confronting commanding officers is teaching their men to obey. There has been a lack of discipline apparent and this undoubtedly is due principally to the fact that neither Canadian officers nor men are professional soldiers. But there has been a great tightening up, and the men are gradually learning that it pays to obey. The penalty for disobedience is strict. Not long ago a man received his pay and went over the the canteen. He didn't come back for a week, for, after visiting this little wooden hut where light beer is served, he journeyed to London. When he returned he got thirty days in a military prison. It was his second offence. When the contingent first arrived here overstaying leave was quite common. But this has all been changed.

The Canadians—many of them—salute only when necessary. They look upon this form of exercise as an inconvenience and unnecessary except when they meet their own officers. But, as in many other things, they are quickly learning to do the proper thing—to pay respect to the rank. British officers are sticklers for etiquette, consequently the British rankers are always very proper.

The other day General Pitcairn Campbell, commander of the Southern Command, while walking along a Salisbury street, passed a couple of westerners. They did not salute him. The general wheeled around and shouted, "Hey, hey, why the devil don't you salute me?"

No answer.

The Canadians immediately came to attention and saluted very briskly.

"You're not supposed to salute with one hand in your pocket," said the general to one of the offenders. "See that you salute an officer hereafter," and then the general and the two miscreants, whose nerves were greatly on edge, parted company. The Canadians were thankful that nothing further occurred.

Posted by regimentalrogue at 12:01 AM EDT

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Famous Tunnel at Vimy Ridge Will Now Be Preserved

Grange Labyrinth Was Discovered by Canadian Engineers After Search
Bomb Dump Found
Names and Messages, Written on Chalk With Indelible Pencil, Are Well Preserved

The Montreal Gazette, 5 November 1927

London, November 4.—Canadian engineers have discovered at Vimy Ridge the only portion left intact of all the battlefields on the Western Front, reports the Daily Express. It is the famous Grange Tunnel. Everything is as it was in 1917, from scribbled names to unused bombs. The dugouts are being permanently preserved, and the place will become the most remarkable relic of the war.

The story is told by H.V. Morton, special correspondent of the Express, in a letter from Vimy Ridge. Mr. Morton's narrative follows.

Thousands of former soldiers are visiting the battlefields of France and Belgium in the hope of finding trenches, dugouts, or the exact spot where they received their "blighties."

In the Ypres Salient they see nothing but flourishing fields of corn, flax, oats and barley. There is not a trench left in Belgium except a few doubtful examples on Hill 60.

France the scars of war are more visible, but a strenuous peasantry has filled the shell holes and has rebuilt its farms on the front line. It is amazing how swiftly the plough and the building contractor have wiped out all traces of war.

I found today the only spot in France where a man can feel that he is back again in 1914-1919; where he can stand at a sniper's post and fit the rotted butt of a rusted rifle to his shoulder as he peeps out towards the German trenches. The wire is still up in "No Man's Land," duck-boards lie in the trenches, officers' beds, rotting and collapsed, still lie in the chalk dug-outs.

Hundreds of names and many messages are written on the chalk in indelible pencil, as fresh as when they were written ten years ago. Mills bombs with the pins in them repose on ledges, cans of bully beef, tin hats—all the familiar debris of those sad days—are to be seen as they were left in 1918.

This amazing spot in the famous Grange Tunnel, on Vimy Ridge, which has just been opened by the Canadian Battlefields Memorial Commission. It is to be preserved for the benefit of posterity as a kind of textbook on trench warfare, and is destined to become the most remarkable relic of the war.

General Pershing visited it recently and said it was the only living war memorial in France. Every soldier who has seen it wonders why no one ever thought of preserving a section of the front line.

The project began a year ago as a side-line to the Canadian memorial on Vimy Ridge, which will not be completed until 1931. The stone for this stupendous shrine comes from the ancient Roman quarries round the Bay of Spalato in Dalmatia. While waiting for supplies of this stone to arrive, it occurred to the Canadian engineers that it might be interesting to locate the famous Grange Labyrinth—the miles of underground passages which the Canadians pushed out to within a few yards of the enemy's lines.

Map references were taken, and the entrance to the tunnel was discovered choked up with brushwood. The work of clearing the tunnel has taken a year, and it is not yet completed.

To Preserve Trenches

So interesting were the discoveries that the commission decided to rebuild the trenches, preserve the dugouts and make the Grange Tunnel a permanent site. The trenches have been lined with concrete sandbags. The concrete is poured in wet, so that when the sandbags rot the marks of the mesh will remain; the duck-boards have been cast in concrete, all wood has been taken out of the dugouts, and the passages have been reinforced with concrete and metal. The Grange Tunnel has at least a century of life before it.

I was shown around the tunnel by Captain Unwin Simpson, Royal Canadian Engineers, who is in charge of the work. On the way down is a notice: "These walls are sacred to the names of soldiers who inscribed them during their occupation in the war of 1914-1918. Please omit yours."

We entered a dark tunnel and found ourselves in a labyrinth of passages, dugouts and battalion headquarters cut far below the ground level in the white chalk of Vimy Ridge. It was as though we had been switched back to April, 1917—that time when the Canadian divisions advanced to the conquest of Vimy Ridge. Nothing has changed.

The smoke from the candles once set in niches to light the passages was still black on the chalk. The dugouts and the walls of the communicating passages were covered with names carved in the chalk or written in pencil and as legible as when they were inscribed during the great battle of Arras. The maple leaf of Canada was carved with an original variety in a hundred different places, and on the walls I read at random such inscriptions as these:

• 1033234 James Burton, A Company, The Royal Canadian Regiment, May 8, 1917. Still alive and kicking.
• 670080, W.J. Auchincloss, A Company, The Royal Canadian Regiment, May 8, 1917. Untouched by whizz-bangs as yet.

I cannot describe the feelings with which a man in these days approaches the inscriptions written below the earth of the Arras sector. In their cheery naivety we who have survived and can look back on 1917 with the calm unconcern of historians, seem to touch hands once more with these Canadian boys, who, 10 years ago, crouched in these chalk dugouts, still "alive and kicking," still "untouched by whizz-bangs," joking, laughing, waiting, quite unconscious that they were carving not only their names, but also history.

We walked for about half a mile, going deeper into Grange subway, until we came to battalion headquarters. On the wall of a dark, deep, chalk chamber, which had been used as an officers' mess during the Canadian advance on Vimy, were carved the following names: Major McCaghey, Major Collins, Lieutenant Abbott, Lieutenant Jamieson, Lieutenant H. Cook, May 10, 1927, 52 Battalion Canadian, B. Company. In a little carved shield were the words "Dick Swift."

We stood there, lighting matches in the dark, wondering what had happened to these men, wondering whether they still live somewhere at home in Canada, or whether they fell on Vimy Ridge. No matter whether they are alive or dead, their personalities live beneath the soil of France so vividly that one expects to meet them round the next corner.

While we were going on towards Mine Shaft, which the Canadian drove beneath the enemy lines, my foot kicked a small object. It was a tin of bully beef! It had been opened, but it had not been eaten, and it was ten years old. I leave to the imagination of any man who knows what bully beef was like when comparatively young to judge how this specimen looked and smelled.

Found Bomb Dump

"See this?" said Captain Simpson, holding up a queer grey slab. It was gun cotton, stamped 1916.

"Down there, about 100 feet below our present level," he said, "we found a dump of Mills bombs and also sacks of T.N.T. We have removed them reverently."

In the amazing collection of names written on the walls I came across two which roused my curiosity. They were:

• Ship No. 7129, 1st Section, 7th Division, U.S.M.C., Texas Leather Neck Corps
• Ship No. 3112, G.M., 2nd Class, 3rd Division, Flagship, U.S.S. Saratoga, Asiatic Fleet.

What on earth were these two American sailors doing with the Canadian armies on Vimy Ridge? How did they get there? Were they deserters from the American navy who, becoming weary of America's indecision, had joined up with the Canadians? Or were they shipwrecked mariners who had gone to Vimy in search of life?

I prophesy that books will some day be written about Grange Tunnel and the names which it perpetuates. The Canadian Battlefields Memorial Commission has carved, perhaps unwittingly, a grater memorial even than that expensive shrine which the Canadian Government is now building on the crest of Vimy Ridge.

Here in this dark tunnel, and here only, do we seem to meet the men who fought and died. Here only do we seem to see gain in the long chalk passages those well-known faces; here only can we read their signatures—no doubt in many cases their last-written words—written with the indelible pencils with which they wrote their letters home.

Canada has, with splendid and characteristic foresight, carved a shrine which is sacred not only to her army, but also to all the Allies. Here British, French and Belgians will gather in years to come and say: "This is how our men lived during the Great War." The Grange Tunnel is, and always will be, the greatest and most touching sight on the western front.

Posted by regimentalrogue at 12:01 AM EDT

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Letters from our Soldier Boys

The Leader-Mail, Granby, 11 October 1918

From Cecil Meyer

Dear Mother:—

Just a few lines to let you know that I am still in the ring. I am writing this by candlelight in an old barn, sprawled out flat on the floor. No doubt you've heard of the Canadians good work on August 8th and 9th, and now you are reading of our good work on 2nd Sept.

Down south on the former drive we advanced about 9 miles and on this latest, seven miles. First our battalion went into the line on August 30th and we went over the top early in the morning at 5 a.m. Later the same day we went over again at 4 p.m. In two days we took all of Fritz's strong points and straightened the line for the big kick off which took place on the 2nd Sept.

For this work (although the cost was pretty heavy) Sir Douglas Haig congratulated us highly for straightening out the line and reducing the strong points for the big push. Of course a good number of our fellows were killed and wounded, but the enemy's losses must have far exceeded ours, exclusive of the prisoners we took. Open warfare is a very exciting sport, believe me.

Fritz fights a strong rear guard action, but we are the guys to put him to the fight and keep him on the run.

We had two tanks with us (this was three days later) the most of the way, and for artillery fire—well, hell was let loose. It was terrible.

It was great sport taking prisoners and at the beginning of the battle they came in in streams. I can't begin to tell you the whole story of the battle in this letter but this, together with what you've read in the papers will give you some idea of what your boy has been through.

For a fool stunt I pulled off on the 2nd I have been promoted and may hear more from it later. While out in no man's land I volunteered to deliver a message asking for more machine gun fire at a certain point, and got away with it alive. Our officer asked for a volunteer and it was several minutes before anyone would speak and really the hail of machine gun fire and bursting shells was enough to make anyone reluctant to leave our nice cosy shell hole that we occupied for the moment. Anyway, I guess I got hot-headed, so out I rushed back to our own lines and through some very hot fire from the Germans, and made it alright. When I arrived back to my shall hole I found my officer had been killed and a number of the poor fellows who had been with him had been wounded. I had nothing else to do but take cover myself and think things over, for two or three snipers had seen me make the run and were hot after me. I stayed with my officer about an hour, and while there collected his personal effects. That night, I with four men, under cover of the darkness, got his body and took it to battalion headquarters for burial.

Some of these days I may be able to tell you some hair-raising stories of my experiences. Nothing shocks me these days. What I have seen and gone through would make you shiver if you knew, but I hardly think you'll ever want to know the worst.

This last trip up the line was pretty hot and we lost quite a number of officers and men, but my luck was dead against me for a Blighty.

Here's a newspaper extract I picked up. "When the Canadian and British went into action on Monday (Sept. 2nd) morning, they were supported by what is said to be the greatest artillery barrage of the war. The start was at 5 a.m. and by 6 a.m. the enemy line was passed at several points." That is the day we made seven miles.

Here is what the 3rd Battalion (mine) was up against:— "Canadian Troops showed the greatest spirit and courage in storming the Drocourt-Queant lines, which had been perfected by the enemy during the past 18 months and which provided a most formidable obstacle furnished with every device of modern engineering. The enemy had reinforced his defences here in such a degree that on a front of 8,000 yards no fewer than 11 German Divisions were identified.

France, September 11th

My Dear Father:—

Am writing just a few lines to catch to-day's post.

Have received your parcel, it was a dandy. Please keep up your good work, for home-made cooking is a great treat these days in the line. Tea and sugar, socks, a cake (cookies take too much room), a tin of maple butter and a little chocolate will be what I need and will be greatly appreciated.

Had a very hot time this time, on August 30th and September 2nd. We straightened out a very strong point. We pushed into Fritz's lines over seven miles.

I have been promoted Lance Corporal, and in charge of a section in the 4th Platoon. This is only a start but you just watch me climb!

Have heard that I will soon be taking over a job as Company Clerk. The present Company Clerk is figuring on going to England. It will not exactly be bomb proof, but it saves a good number of trips over the line.

Don't take too much stock in this for nothing is definite yet. My Company Officer was speaking to me yesterday and also the Clerk himself. They can't give me anything definite. He is pretty sure of going away and the officer was just finding out things.

I hope you can read this writing, I have only got a stub of a pencil.

Renmember me to the boys and tell them I am in all these big scraps these days. Love to all, as ever, your loving son,

Cecil.

P.S.—Have forgotten to mention that I saw Percy when coming out of the line last week. We were both terrible looking sights, he had a heavy moustache and I had a beard a foot long, and were dead tired. He was with his tractor hauling a heavy siege gun from the front and our battalion was coming out badly in need of a rest. Could not stop to talk, but both had a hearty handshake and were very glad to see each other. —Cecil

Posted by regimentalrogue at 12:01 AM EDT

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Principles of Employment of Cyclists

Cyclist Training (Provisional), 1914

Characteristics and Functions of Cyclists

1.     The principal characteristic of cyclists is their power to move rapidly, and if necessary for long distances, in a country well supplied with roads of fair surface.

Compared with mounted troops, they can travel more silently, are less conspicuous, and can conceal themselves with greater facility; they can develop greater power in proportion to their numbers since they require no horse holders, and are more easily billeted, supplied, and transported by rail or boat. On the other hand their inability to move rapidly across country (and at times to move at all without leaving their cycles behind) renders it more difficult for them than for mounted troops to carry out the services of protection and reconnaissance during a march, and except when the roads are very favourable, to change position rapidly when engaged with the enemy.

In any case, when acting independently, the difficulties cyclists experience in protecting themselves will frequently reduce their pace almost to that of infantry. Rapid movement under such circumstances means dangerously little reconnaissance and renders cyclists a likely prey to hostile cavalry. The employment of cyclist bodies in country which has not been previously reconnoitred, unaccompanied by a due proportion of mounted men for the service of exploration should therefore be resorted to in exceptional cases only.

2.     The power of infantry lies in its firepower, which in the case of cyclists can be carried to greater distance in relatively less time, therefore the tactics of cyclists are the same as those of infantry supplemented by greater mobility.

The value of their firepower is enhanced by their mobility, not the value of their mobility by their firepower, or, in other words, their mobility should not be used for an indefinite purpose, but rather to move them for a definite object, to gain which it is essential that they should adopt a vigorous offensive action in order to defeat the enemy.

3.     Cyclists are not a separate arm, but a body of troops whose role is subordinate to, but a complement of, that of cavalry and infantry.

Their sphere of action lies between the main body and the outer line of protection of the force with which they are acting. Within these limits their employment is formed bodies on special missions, such as the rapid seizure of points of importance, the destruction of railways or bridges, and the interception of the enemy's movements will often be invaluable to a body of cavalry or a detachment of all arms.

4.     Cyclists will frequently be of use in assisting other troops to perform their protective duties, by their employment as standing patrols for instance (see Field Service Regulations, Part I, Sec 89.) or as a temporary relief for cavalry whilst the latter are withdrawn for purposes of watering, feeding, &c., or before they are sent out, or to act as a pivot round which cavalry can manoeuvre. At night their movements, owing to the silence in which they can be carried out, are difficult to detect. Formed bodies of cyclists should not carry out any independent movement at night beyond the protective line, owing to their greater vulnerability and liability to be thrown into confusion by an ambush or temporary obstacle during darkness than in daylight.

5.     In the battle, by reason of their mobility, cyclists are best suited for employment on the flanks of the force, either for the purpose of prolonging their own line or for enveloping that of the enemy, or as a local reserve, for reinforcing weak points.

6.     In a pursuit, a vigorous use of their mobility may enable cyclists to occupy tactical points or defiles along the enemy's line of retreat, and thus materially assist in turning the pursuit into a rout.

7.     In a retreat, they should be especially valuable on the flanks prolonging the front, and thus compelling the enemy to make a wide turning movement. By a stubborn resistance, and by a full use of their mobility and fire power they can delay the advancing columns, and assist their own troops to withdraw without being harassed.

8.     The defence of the coast is one of the principal and most important roles of cyclists in Great Britain, and in carrying out this duty they will frequently have to act for a time without the assistance of the other arms. A vigilant look-out, and a rapid concentration, based on early and accurate information, will enable them to adopt a vigorous offensive the moment an opportunity for action occurs.

Posted by regimentalrogue at 12:01 AM EDT

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Letters from our Soldier Boys

The Leader-Mail, Granby, 11 October 1918

From Sergt. Lester Thompson

Somewhere, Sept. 15th, 1918

Dear Miss Coupland:—

No. I "aint" dead yet. I received several letters from people in Canada saying I was "Missing, Believed Dead," after heavy fighting, but not much.

Am enclosing a postcard snap shot of myself, which looks pretty tough but I was looking kind of thin then, lot of heavy marches and my leg still bothered me some, and had to set a good example to the draftees (conscripts) that we were just out on camping-out picnics.

It is three years to-day since I came to France and two years ago the anniversary of the Battle of Courcelette, and a little later the hard fighting for Regina Trench. I have had two leaves to England of ten days and I am looking the fourth winter in the face, but it cannot be much worse than the first when it rained or snowed 30 out of 31 days in January.

I have not been in much of the recent fighting as on the second day of the big push the sergeant detailed for a Course at a Military School was missing, and I was sent instead. Heard since he got a nice Blighty and was in England. I saw one of the sergeants of my Company lying dead in front of a row of 8-inch guns that they had taken, but he would take no more.

Things are looking a lot brighter now, a lot different from this spring.

Well, I must quit now. Yours ever,

Lester Thompson.

Posted by regimentalrogue at 12:01 AM EDT

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The Macadams Shovel

At the Sharp End, Tim Cook, 2007

The Macadams shovel, patented by Sam Hughes's secretary, Edith Macadams, was a combination of metal shovel and sniper's tool that could be fired through while supposedly offering protection. It was not a terrible concept in theory (the idea being to provide the infantryman with some armour), but it was useless as a shovel and lethal to use as a shield since its thin metal could not stop a high-velocity round. The soldiers voted with their hands, tossing away the tools and keeping the army-issued entrenching shovels that came apart for easy carrying. Although Edith Macadams---and her shovel---have long been the butt of many jokes, few at home could imagine the firepower unleashed at the front. Most of the 25,000 shovels were sold as scrap metal before they got anyone killed.

The Macadams Shovel Patent

Posted by regimentalrogue at 12:01 AM EST

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Old Bill at the Canadian Corps School

As much as soldiers enjoy learning new things; new weapon systems, new tactics and techniques to make them more effective on the field of battle, there is one timeless constant that survives all armies and eras. Soldiers dislike being in the school environment. Published in the school newsletter of the Canadian Corps Training School, 'Tchun, this cartoon not only shows the readiness of soldiers returned to training environments desiring a return to their "real work," but it also shows how effectively the cartoons of Bruce Bairnsfather had penetrated the familiar understanding of Canadian soldiers duting the First World War.

Old Bill and his trench-mate, still in their shapeless Gor-blimey hats and torn, patched greatcoats have come up against the well-groomed school instructor with his swagger stick and handle-bar mustache. It hasn't taken Old Bill long to assess that the hazards of the school environment outweigh those of his familiar trenches and dugouts. Old Bill would rather face whizz-bangs, trench rats and an occasional whiff of gas than the parade square prominence of a school sergeant-major, polishing brass, and the risks of Field Punishment No. 1 for righteous insubordintion.

Posted by regimentalrogue at 12:01 AM EST

Updated: Saturday, 24 January 2015 12:06 AM EST

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Adjutant-General's Branch

CEF Discharge Depot: Invaliding

Report of the Ministry
Overseas Military Forces of Canada; 1918

As it became necessary, from time to time, to despatch to Canada parties of men, principally those being returned by the Allocation Board, i.e,, men in a low category whose services were not required, as well as men who were being returned for special reasons, such as instructional purposes, it was essential that these men should be uniformly prepared and held for embarkation at short notice. A Unit was, therefore, organised and known as No. 1 Canadian Discharge Depot, and, in view of the fact that the majority of sailings took place from Liverpool, it was located at Buxton. During the year ending December 31, 1918, the Buxton Discharge Depot handled 21,622 men returning to Canada, of which number 1,152 were proceeding on furlough.

In the early part of 1918 permanent Transatlantic Conducting Staffs, who were in charge of reinforcements from Canada, reported at the Discharge Depot, Buxton, on arrival. They were then detailed by the Officer Commanding the Depot to take charge of whatever party was returning to Canada and, in addition to this Staff, an officer was detailed by Headquarters, Overseas Military Forces of Canada, to take charge of each district party under the command of the Officer Commanding the Permanent Conducting Staff.

In addition to personnel returning to the Discharge Depot, Buxton, there were men who, on account of their wounds or sickness, had been marked by the Medical Authorities as soldiers who should be invalided to Canad for further treatment. These men were known as Invaliding Cases, and until June, 1918, such men were returned to Canada in regular hospital ships which had been taken over by the Canadian Government and were making periodical crossings from England to Canada. After the sinking of H.M.H.S. Llandovery Castle, the practice of using hospital ships was discontinued, and vessels known as Ambulance Transports were employed. These vessels travelled under escort up to the time of the Armistice.

• Images of a Forgotten War — Canadian Discharge Depot

Posted by regimentalrogue at 12:01 AM EST

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Canadians Obtain Good Experience

Bad Roads help to harden Men for Work in France
Finishing Touches
Discipline Has Been the One failure—Disobedience Well Punished

The Toronto World; 12 January 1915
By John A. MacLaren, one of The World's Staff Correspondents with the Canadian Expeditionary Force

Salisbury, Eng., Dec. 22.—To turn the raw material into the finished product, to make the recruit—with his woeful lack of knowledge of matters military, probably the most important of which is discipline—into a real soldier, authorities have said that nine months of hard training is necessary. In the British regular army a soldier is not supposed to know all the ropes in less than that period. The Canadians have now been drilling for four months, and they believe they are ready to meet the enemy at any time. Their work has been harder than that of a recruit in the British army in times of peace. They have been living under practically active service conditions in the rain and mud of Salisbury, and not in barracks, with two or three weeks in the autumn of manoeuvres, which is the only occasion when the British regulars get a taste of what war may be like. So after our months, on account of the great emergency, the Canadian volunteers who have had to undergo untold hardships, may be almost as well equipped for genuine fighting as the an who spends nine months picking up the rudiments of the game in barracks.

There is much talk of the force going to France in the latter part of January, or five months after the call to arms was sounded throughout Canada, and if this should occur it will not come as a surprise but as a relief. The long waiting and suspense will be over.

Stand the Strain

There appears to be every indication that the finishing touches are being applied to the training course. It is recognized that the men are physically fit. Their muscles are hard, and working during such bad weather has placed them in splendid condition.

The old system of double company formation instead of platoons is now working smoothly, and officers, who were rather green at first, are handling their men with greater confidence and success. The reason for discarding the platoon formation was that it did not work satisfactorily in France. Right here it may be said that the men in harness in England getting ready to fight are taught to a great extent, according to wrinkles found in the firing line. The platoon system would not have been dropped had it not been found unwieldy in France.

There is a certain soldier greatly admired in England. He wears a blue and white ribbon on his sleeve. This is a sign that he has returned from the front on furlough. While he is in England his short vacation is not one entirely one of leisure. In many instances he is found teaching the young an idea of what he himself learned first hand. In the Canadian camp a few of these men have been giving instructions to those who are getting ready. For example, in the important matter of digging trenches they teach the Canadian the width and the depth of trenches and other valuable things in the use of the spade. It has been said that next to the gun the spade is winning this war. At all events the Canadians are taught how to dig trenches properly. These ditches zig-zag here and there across the downs, an indication of the industry of the men who may soon be performing similar work in France.

Leave Cut Off

As has been pointed out, I a cable all leave will be cut off after January 1st. One would imagine that this order would disappoint the men. But not so. It has had the other effect. The Canadians believe that it means a early departure, and that is what they want.

Some new equipment has been added to the force. Four or eight new machine guns will be used in each battalion, and each officer of a machine gun squad has been taking instruction on their use. The quick-firers are somewhat different from those formerly used. This type of weapon has been recognized as a great factor in the war. Capt. McKessock of the 48th Highlanders, Toronto, who practiced law in Sudbury for years, and Lieutenant Macdonald of the Queen's Own are both officers in command of machine guns. This branch od the service has proved very fascinating, if the large waiting list in any criterion.

Poor Discipline

One of the most difficult tasks confronting commanding officers is teaching their men to obey. There has been a lack of discipline apparent and this undoubtedly is due principally to the fact that neither Canadian officers nor men are professional soldiers. But there has been a great tightening up, and the men are gradually learning that it pays to obey. The penalty for disobedience is strict. Not long ago a man received his pay and went over to the canteen. He didn't come back for a week, for after visiting this little wooden hut where beer is served, he journeyed to London. When he returned he got thirty days in a military prison. It was his second offence. When the contingent first arrived here overstaying leave was quite common. But this has all changed.

The Canadians—many of them—salute only when necessary. They look upon this form of exercise as an inconvenience and unnecessary except when they meet one of their own officers. But, as in many other things, they are quickly learning to do the proper thing—to pay respect to the rank. British officers are sticklers for etiquette, consequently the British rankers are always very proper.

The other day General Pitcairn Campbell, commander of the Southern Command, while walking along a Salisbury street, passed a couple of westerners. They did not salute him. The general wheeled around and shouted, "Hey, hey, why the devil don't you salute me?"

No answer.

The Canadians immediately came to attention and saluted very briskly.

"You're not supposed to salute with one hand in your pocket," said the general to one of the offenders. "See that you salute an officer hereafter," and then the general and the two miscreants, which nerves were greatly on edge, parted company. The Canadian were thankful that nothing further occurred.

Posted by regimentalrogue at 12:01 AM EST

Updated: Monday, 12 January 2015 12:01 AM EST

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No Better Soldiers

The Evening Citizen, Ottawa, Ont., 26 August, 1942
(William Philip Simms in New York, "World-Telegram" and other Scripps-Howard newspapers in U.S.)

Washington, Aug. 21.—That the smashing raid on Dieppe was a success (sic) came as no surprise to old-timers here when told that the 10,000 Commandoes who took part were largely Canadians. (NOTE: This article was writen within days of the Dieppe raid, at a time when any mention of the results of the operation would not have passed the censors.)

If the Canadians did not invent that kind of warfare, they most certainly were the first to make use of it during the first World War. Subsequently they developed its technique to such a point that it came into common use.

Early in 1915, near Festubert, the Germans threw up a road block supported by a network of trenches which very much annoyed the Canadians opposite. These happened to be the Seventh Battalion, under a young major by the name of Victor Odlum. He worked out a plan to put an end to the nuisance, got it approved and carried it out with brilliant success.

What Major Odlum started is still going on, only it is blossoming into something bigger. I recall watching Canadian and, later, British units rehearsing a coming raid. Behind the lines they would mark out with white tape the exact trench formation they intended to invade, then practice on it daily until they could do the whole show blindfolded.

Similarly they made life miserable for any Germans that gor into no-man's-land. They did not regard the space between their trenches as nobody's. It belonged to them. They patrolled it regularly, and woe to any hostile patrol they happened to encounter. So skilled did they become that they were seldom caught napping. They did the surprising.

The senior officer commanding the Dieppe raid was Maj. Gen. J.H. Roberts of Kingston, Ontario, and every Canadian air squadron in the area was in the umbrella protecting the raiders. But down under, in Australia, there is at least one man who may be excused if he reads about the Dieppe raid with envy. He is the Canadian High Commissioner, Major Gen. Victor Odlum, the major who staged the raid at Festubert in 1915.

It is nothing new for Canadians to be good soldiers. There are none better anywhere. During the first World War nothing made me prouder than to hear Allied generals compare out doughboys with the Mapleleafers and be told that ours were just as good.

The soldiers of some countries have too much discipline. Some haven't enough. Some are brutal and some are soft. But the Canadians seem, to have about the right blend of discipline and democracy, dash and cool-headedness, of citizen and soldier.

I was with General Watson's Fourth Canadian Division when it took Regina Trench, in the Somme, in 1916. I saw the Canadians later at Mount St. Eloi, Sanctuary Wood and at Vimy when they stormed the crest of that chalky eminence and made it British for the duration.

It was with them still later, in Flanders, as the rains turned the whole plain into a quagmire. The tanks bogged down in the undrained fields. Strong men drowned in water-filled shall-craters which could not be seen beneath the surface of the muck. Countless wounded choked to death as they fell unconscious in the bloody mud. But Sir Douglas Haig needed Passchendaele, on the comparatively dry ridge east of Ypres, and asked the Canadians to give it to him. And they did.

Near Lens, I saw a Canadian soldier rescue a mongrel dog abandoned by the Germans in a booby-trap dugout when he might have been blown to bits at any moment for his pains. Moreover, the dog, hungry and terrified by what it had been through, did its best to tear the soldier to pieces. Later it became a company pet named—of course—Fritz.

In the first World War the Canadians were sure-fire trench raiders and trouble-shooters. Where the going was hardest, there they were.

Posted by regimentalrogue at 12:01 AM EST

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