 CHAPTER XIV of WHAT THE BOYS DID OVER THERE by HENRY FOX. THIS LIBERVOX RECORDING IS IN THE PUBLIC DOMAIN. MY SERVICE IN FLANDERS PART II by Sgt. A. Gibb. During our stay in the line at Kemmel Hill, after the crater fight, the winter started in real earnest. The snow and sleet was something awful. Nothing but wet feet all the time. Had it not been for our rum ration, we should have died from disease. A great number of our boys did die. Some of the boys in our working party who went up the line while we were in billets were drowned in the shell holes that were filled with water or got trenched feet and were sent to the hospital. During the Christmas of 1915, we were in the front line, and it was very cold. We had our Christmas dinner there, which consisted of our regular rations. But when we came to our billets again, after six days in the front line, we had a Christmas dinner which consisted of turkey, dressing, pudding, tea, and other nice things. I am sure all the boys enjoyed it to their hearts' content. In fact, it was the best meal we had since arriving in Flanders. We also had our New Year's dinner out on the line, much to our joy. During Christmas and New Year's, we had entertainments at the YMCA Huts and a few movie shows. About two days after New Year's, we went back into the line, also the Mud and Water. The rest of that winter was very uneventful. It was on June 21, 1916, that the Third Battle of Ypres started, our regiment being in the line at Kemmel Hill and our Third Canadian Division at Ypres. On the second of that month, Fritzi made his drive for Ypres. The battle started about two a.m. The Huns came over in mass formation and very strong in number, almost six to one of ours. All of the boys in my battalion were sitting on top of the trench, looking on at the attack. The noise from the big guns was dreadful, also the machine gun fire. The prettiest sight I ever saw was the star shells bursting in the air. They were of colored red, white and green, which was the Huns SOS call. On the 4th of June, Fritzi managed to drive our boys from their position in that part of the line. Our Third Division put up a very strong fight, but they were outnumbered and could not hold. So the Huns advanced quite a bit and gained a lot of ground. The 48th Battalion was separated from the other battalions, and other regiments were in the same fix. That was the reason the Huns drove them back. On the 11th of June, our battalion, the 26th, was taken out of the line at Kimmel Hill, and after a few hours' rest, started for the support line at Ypres, which was Bedford Farm. On arriving there, we stayed for two days, and on the 12th of the next month, our famous Canadian Scottish made an attack on Fritzi and succeeded in driving him back after very hard fighting and hand-to-hand work. It was on the 14th that our battalion, accompanied by others, moved up to relieve the tired out Scotties who were tattered and torn. They came straggling back, but not in the same strength as when they went into the conflict. They had a great number killed, wounded, and missing. As our battalion moved up the road leading to the trenches under heavy shell fire, we lost two hundred men killed and wounded. As we moved along, we could see our chums falling. That made us more eager to get at the Hun. On arriving in the front line, late that evening, I was detailed off as a battalion runner and, of course, it was very interesting work. I was to report at battalion headquarters, which was about three quarters of a mile behind the line. After great difficulty I found myself at that point and reported myself to the Sergeant Major. A short time after I was ordered to take a battalion into the trenches at Hoog, and after great difficulty going over the shell-torn ground, I landed the regiment safe at their port. On the following morning at nine a.m., I received another order to take a dispatch to every boy in my battalion. Of course there is always two men who go with the dispatch. The idea of that is in case one man gets wounded, the other can look after his wounds and carry on with his orders. My partner and I started out from battalion headquarters and going up the communication trench, found it all blown to pieces, so we decided to take to the open. On arriving at a company, we delivered the dispatch and went on to the next company. It was very uneventful, but it took us from nine a.m. one day until four a.m. the following morning to get back. On our way back, we arrived at a company in time to get a little party out to headquarters, but at the same time Fritzi started shelling us very heavily, so we took different routes. About fifty yards from the front line, my pal got a bullet in the back which brought him down. I dressed his wound, then carried him for a distance of about fifty or sixty yards. I then laid him down so I could get a rest and straighten myself up, but when I picked him up again, he was dead. I continued the rest of my journey alone, but before long I got hit myself in both legs. I dressed them and crawled to headquarters, delivered the dispatch, then fell into a fainting spell. When I came to, I found myself in a hospital in Boulogne. Canada's casualties in the war up to eleven days before the capture of Mons, on the final morning of the conflict, totaled two hundred eleven thousand three hundred fifty eight men. These classified as follows, killed in action thirty four thousand eight hundred seventy seven, died of wounds fifteen thousand four hundred fifty seven, wounded and presumed dead fifty two thousand seven hundred seventy nine, missing in action and known prisoners of war eight thousand two hundred forty five. Canada's losses have been very great and she has fought very bravely for a just cause, the freedom of the world and everlasting peace. End of chapter fourteen. Chapter fifteen of what the boys did over there by Henry Fox. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. With the ammunition train by Frederick Gerald McCavity, gunner number nine one eight oh five, eighth battery, Canadian field artillery. It was back in nineteen fourteen when the word came to Canada for soldiers to serve for king and country. As I was very young, not quite eighteen years of age, I thought I would like to enlist and go to war, not really knowing what I was going into. At that time anyone enlisting under age had to have his parents' consent, which I will say was no easy matter. After having a little battle of my own with all my relatives, I finally managed to get the signature of my parents. We went to camp a few days later and had about two months' training at Valkardier and then sailed for England. After training a few months in the old country, we sailed for France the early part of February, nineteen fifteen, where we first got our taste of war. I was more than surprised because I was young and my idea of war was sniping at each other from behind a tree or stump, but this trench warfare was a new thing. At that time I was attached to an ammunition column which fed the guns with its ammunition. Then it was a case of starving the guns because the shortage of ammunition would only allow each gun of each battalion four rounds a day, and as the soldiers call it out there, they had our wind up all the time. We had lost quite a number of men at Ypres and pulled out of that position for another part of the line when I was wounded on the four noon of September twenty-first. It was only a slight wound in the left foot. After a few months at the hospital and proving a one again, I was sent back to the line and joined my unit at Plugsturt in the fall of the same year. Now as you know the fighting was not so great, but the hardships were terrible through the winter. It is simply wonderful what a human being can stand. If anyone had told me before I enlisted that I could lay in mud and water for day in and day out, I think I would have called him a liar, but I have come to the conclusion that nothing is impossible nowadays. Some days when it was a little quiet we would spend our time fixing up our Bivouac which we had built on the ground as huts to live in. After the winter of 1915 and the spring of 1916 we moved to the Ypres salient and we had a pretty tough time of it there as they had us pinned in the shape of a horseshoe and they could hit us from all sides except the rear. The Germans had us overwhelmed at that time, but even with their wonderful fighting mechanism they couldn't drive back the fighting race from North America. We fought on in the salient until July 1916 when the First Division got word we were to move to another front. It was rather a surprise. We thought we were to have a rest at that time. The fighting was heavy on the two fronts, the Somme Front in France and the Salonica Front in Greece. So it was a question with the boys which one we were going to. At last word came to move somewhere and after a number of days on the train and on foot we at last came to a sign along the roadway marked Somme River. Well then we knew we were on our way to the Somme Front going into action the same night. We arrived on the battle scene and that was the introduction of the Canadians in the battle of the Somme. It was a tough fight and we lost a number of men but it was much worse for poor fritzi. We had it pretty rough all the time on the Somme and often times when the rations did not get up from the divisional train we had to lay back on the hard tack which looks like dog biscuits and we thought one of these biscuits dipped in bacon grease was a great treat at that time. I fought on the Somme through the summer of 1916 until the fall of the same year and in the early part of the evening of November 9 as I was in horse lines of our battery having an ice friendly game of crown and anchor the corporal of my section called me from my game. I was winning and did not like to leave the game and said McCavity you will go up with rations to the battalion tonight. I think you'd better leave about eight o'clock. Well I went back to the game and played until eight and then I started for the line. As we placed the rations over pack horses and started to plow through the mud leading our horses it was a case of ups and downs stepping in a shell hole here and on a dead body there. Fritz was putting a lot of gas shells over and it was getting late in the night and raining like hell. We had one of our boys up in the air by the concussion of a shell and he also lost his ration. At last we got to the battery. The gas shell still poured over and the major gave us orders to get back as quickly as possible after delivering the goods. I think we were about fifty yards away from the battery when a big shell burst or at least a Jack Johnson as the boys called it. The boy behind me the one who lost his ration said to me, Mac we had better hurry as it was pretty close and let me tell you the next one that came over got both of us killing him and wounding me severely. At eleven twenty p.m. on the eve of November ninth after spending nearly two years in hospital I was discharged May 1918 in St. John New Brunswick, Canada. End of Chapter 15. Chapter 16 of What the Boys Did Over There by Henry Fox. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Hospital experience by Gunner Frederick Gerald McCavity. Being wounded on November ninth my first stop was at a stationary hospital, Rowan, France. I had one operation there and had some shrapnel removed from my body. One of the pieces was taken from my left shoulder, a nice sized piece which is shown in the photograph illustrating this story. When I came to after being under the operation I felt something hard on my shoulder. The nurse, seeing that I did not pay much attention to it, came to my bed and asked me if I did not want my souvenir, meaning my shrapnel. Well, as I was in great pain at that time I did not prize it very much, but I value it quite a lot today. After a few months in France they moved me to a Red Cross hospital in Southampton, England called Netley Hospital. I had a long stretch of hospital life in Netley. When I was sailing from France to England aboard the hospital ship they asked me where I would like to go. Naturally being a Canadian and having no relatives over there I promptly said London so I could meet some of my pals. When I got off the boat and aboard the hospital train I asked the orderly if I was near London and he gave me the answer, don't worry you are not going to London. You are on your way to Netley and will be there in ten minutes. I was a little downhearted at first but after a few weeks I was satisfied with my treatment which was the very best. When I got my little lot of wounds on the Somme I also was exposed to gas shells which left my stomach in such a condition that I could not eat for two months until after I had that sea voyage from France to Netley. The nurse there asked me if I would try a poached egg on toast and that was my turning point. From that day until the day I was discharged I have not missed a meal except after an operation. I had nine operations altogether, eight in the Netley Hospital at South Hampton, England. After the shrapnel was removed the doctor found out that the bone in my shoulder was severely fractured and I had four different operations just to clean out the loose bone which was keeping my wound from healing. All the time I was in the hospital and even until three months ago my arm was completely paralyzed. But through the wonderful treatment they gave me I am very glad to say I have pretty good use of my left arm. Another one of my large wounds was in my left thigh where I lost about eight inches of flesh from the knee up. I have had four operations on this limb. I lay for eight months in suspense awaiting the official word whether I would have to lose the left limb. I can honestly say I had a great deal of confidence in my surgeon and one day he came to me and had a personal chat with me. He talked to me just like a father. He asked me if I thought I could stand another operation because he stated that I was in a pretty bad condition. I was very anxious to know his view on the subject as I put all confidence in him. I promptly asked him his decision and he replied that he thought I could stand it. Knowing he thought I could pull through it did not take me long to let him do anything to get me healed up. The operation was performed and I had all the skin taken from my right thigh and grafted on the wound on the left. I can say it was a success and after a few months I was able to get along on a cane. The doctor seeing I was able to move about had me sent to a Canadian hospital so I could be boarded and sent to Canada. I was in the Canadian hospital for about a month and was very anxious to see my native land again. When one day at noon the word came for me to pack up and get ready for the boat. After nine days at sea on a hospital ship with all lights aglow at the time the Germans were sinking Red Cross ships we pulled into Halifax, Nova Scotia safe and sound. Here I was detailed off for a hospital after I had my furlough to visit my relatives. After I had seen my people and was exhausted from talking and shaking hands with old acquaintances I reported to hospital again in St. John New Brunswick Canada where I received electrical and massage treatment. At that time I could not bend my knee and my leg was stiff but through the wonderful treatment and my own will power I finally got very good use of it before I got my discharge May 1918. The original letter of the above photo was sent to Mrs. Hall together with the Victoria Cross from King George. This medal the first Canadian Victoria Cross awarded in this war was won by Sergeant Major F. W. Hall at Ypres April 24, 1915 who was shortly afterwards killed in another attempt to bring in a wounded man under rifle and machine gun. The story of his two brothers appears in this book. End of chapter 16 chapter 17 of what the boys did over there by Henry Fox. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Two years and a half of war by Sergeant F. R. Muir number 81611 10th Battalion CEF. Six months before the war had been declared I left New York City for Winnipeg Canada to play at the Winnipeg Theatre and remained there until war was an established fact. On August 6 1914 I enlisted as an American and joined the 32nd Battalion CEF. After about five months training my battalion was ready and eager for service. From Halifax Nova Scotia we set out on the former Red Star liner Vaderland bound for the battlegrounds of civilization each and every boy of us keyed up to the highest pitch of patriotism. When we were three days at sea we ran out of cigarettes. A number of the boys had boxes of strong cigars with them and these they passed around quite generously. We smoked with the usual gusto and also the usual results. A ton of fish must have been fattened on food that was intended solely to strengthen us for the combat. This experience coupled with sea sickness made four of us refuse to wake up one morning for which we were brought up before the major and sentenced to cleaning porthole windows. We did not relish this labor and one porthole each was the extent of our efforts for half the day. In the afternoon we were set to peeling potatoes cleaning the dishes and scrubbing the lower decks which we finally accomplished after much pouting and grumbling. As we neared the coast of Ireland the ships which comprised our convoy seemed to be making a beeline for any port they could reach. Word had been received that subs were in the vicinity and full steam ahead was the order of the day. The fact that our ship was the slowest tub of the bunch making only about nine knots per hour added darn little to our comfort. Finally after much excitement we docked at Queenstown. Major Ashton in command of our battalion had the gang planks lowered and invited us out to a route march through the city. We aroused quite some enthusiasm and curiosity as we were the first Canadian troops to ever land in Ireland. Our next stop was Liverpool and there the dinky trains which to us were a real joke in comparison to our own huge monsters at home afforded us opportunity for funny comment. These trains are little bits of things and from 15 to 20 men were crammed into a small compartment normally holding about 10. Several of us were unable to sit down all the way to London. The best feature of the train service was the fond goodbyes given us by the young ladies who usually gave them with a kiss something that not many of us found fault with. On our journey through London we were royally received by English Red Cross ladies who fed us with welcome lunches that sure did fill the vacuum beneath the belt. From Folkstone fully equipped we left for France. We knew we were going over to reinforce the gallant 10th Battalion and this knowledge added to our good spirits. We were relieving real heroes and we knew it was up to us to carry on as nobly as had our predecessors. Every mother's son of us was eager yes anxious to start in on real action. Canada expected much from us and we would not disappoint her. Arriving at Balone we were a bit peeved as we anticipated being received by enemy shellfire but silence was the only reception we got. Red Cross ambulances were arriving in countless numbers bringing in the wounded and this was our first glimpse of battle's havoc. This sort of took the heart out of us but only for a few moments for with that scene came a gritting of the teeth and on each face could be seen a newborn determination to see this thing through to a successful conclusion. After a night spent tentless in the pouring rain covered only with straw in the mean wet sky we entrained for an unknown destination and landed at Poprain which surely looked like an unknown destination as it was a typical jerkwater village inhabited only by a few old men and women. Through this village we hiked an upper road leading to the frontline trenches. This road had been shot full of shell holes which made walking very uncomfortable. The further on we walked the near came Fritzy's 42 centimeter shells fired from the largest cannon ever known up to that time the Jack Johnson's as they were called. We were kept busy dodging the shells that seemed to burst all around us yet never hit us but in our hearts and souls we realized that at last we were on speaking terms with Mr. Death himself and this sobered us up some you bet. It was no unusual thing to feel your hair stand right up straight on end and hear your knees beat a tattoo as they knocked against each other. However we soon overcame this feeling as the purpose of our mission dawned upon us. I had a good opportunity to observe how young fellows act when each knows that death may be his portion at any moment. In a section composed of eight men I noticed that one was laughing as lightly as though he was safe and secure at home. Another was singing a crazy song and kept marching along defying death or any other horror that might overtake him. Still another took the matter so seriously as to walk along in a sort of semi-conscious days with a look of stupidity on his face oblivious to all surroundings. There is the case of Private Fred Wheelhouse a Canadian lad of about 22 years who while walking under fire of the German guns kept on playing his mouth organ or harmonica until struck on the head by a piece of shrapnel which killed him instantly and spattered his brains upon his nearby comrades. This was our first casualty and right then and there we solemnly swore that we would avenge him. On April 21, 1915 while awaiting orders in our reserve trenches two miles from the front line which was being held by the Canadian troops from the first, second, fifth and eighth battalions the Germans let loose a heavy gas attack upon them. At that time the gas mask was hardly known the men being equipped with small inefficient respirators and naturally the casualties were very heavy. As a result the men had to fall back losing a lot of the lighter guns. This made necessary the use of the men in the reserve trenches and an order was immediately issued that we stand too ready to take our places in a counter attack which was to be launched in the morning. Imagine if you can the feelings of the lads awaiting the rising of the sun which probably meant the last sunrise many of them would behold. The tortures of the death house I'm sure are mild when compared to those endured by the boys in the tense hours prior to the attack especially when one has to listen to the moaning of the wounded who are being carried back the lines. It is far from encouraging and it did not surprise me when after going through a night like this that each and every one of us became fatalists. At five thirty in the morning the time set for the attack we received word to go and believe me we were glad of it. I felt as though I was ready for death to end my anxiety or else to fight it out right on the spot to a finish. Our officer Lieutenant Ball was the first to jump to the front. After a lusty come on boys he shot forward into the turmoil caused by our heavy artillery with a recklessness bordering on insanity. His action was an inspiring one and we boys were ready to follow him to hell if needs be. In that charge I enjoyed the experience of getting my first German. I crashed into him a big burly six footer and now that my wish to meet one had been gratified and I stood before him I did not know whether to shoot him punch him kick him or stick him as you would a pig. Not having much experience with the bayonet I acted on impulse and rammed it right through his stomach. Oh boy what a squeal he let out. Putting my foot on his breast I pulled the bayonet from out his vitals taking along with it his bowels. This nervous me and I rushed forward like a raving maniac stopping for nothing. I plowed my way through them using first my butt and then the bayonet until I had rushed right into their second line and holy Jerusalem right smack into a whole nest of them. We were proceeding rather methodically in cleaning them out when a shell from a Jack Johnson burst in the midst of our gallant little company killing five outright and separating two from their legs and arms. I myself losing a leg and having my shoulder put out of commission. I was conscious all the time of what had happened and managed to crawl into a shell hole and slap a bandage about my leg. With my shoulder I could do nothing and after lying exposed for two hours the company stretcher bearers picked me up and carried me back to the dressing station. From there I was sent to number 13 General Hospital Boulogne but by the time I arrived gangrene had set in and the doctors there could do nothing for me. Again I was transferred this time to London and from there to Cambridge. A doctor Cook holding the rank of major and from New York announced he would cure me in two months but the job was a more difficult one than he had anticipated and six months was required ere I could walk again. During that time the leg had to be amputated to the knee. I was then discharged and received from the Canadian government an artificial limb which I later discarded for a better one made in little old New York. End of Chapter 17. Chapter 18 of What the Boys Did Over There by Henry Fox. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. From England to France and back. By Private George Oxton number 81680 10th Battalion CEF. It was the latter end of the month of April 1915 that the 32nd Canadian Battalion received orders to embark from the port of Folkstone on the south coast of England for the Western Front. By reason of the fact that the Canadians had suffered great losses at the first battle of Ypres our order to leave England came at an hour's notice but the regiment to a man was extremely anxious to get over and get busy. While we were on board our time was occupied by assembling our new issue of web equipment which we had practically thrown at us prior to leaving our huts at Rizboro Barrick's Shorncliffe. Consequently some of us found we were short a portion of the Ecoutrement while others had parts to spare. Being sociable we were all able to make a complete rig out. The night was of the pitch-black sort but thanks to the science of navigation and sea and air escort we docked at Boulogne France safe and sound but in a drizzly rain. As long as I live I'll never forget the peculiar odor that filled the air while marching up the long steep winding road that led from the docks to the camp. It seemed miles and more miles long but thank goodness we arrived at last to spend our first night on damp ground or I had better say cold mud. It's very true we had canvas over us but I'm sure the tints had just been thrown up for it was quite as dry outside as inside. I had no sooner put my head on my knapsack when that poor miserable little bugler bellowed out his early morning song. On April the 27th we entrained for parts unknown at least we poor privates didn't know where we were bound for probably our company commander knew and if he was in the humor the sergeant major might have known also. After traveling all night and part of the next day packed in cattle cars like the proverbial sardines we arrived at Poprange. The name was the largest portion of the town that the German gunners saw fit to leave. Detraining here we made a rapid march to within a mile of Ypres. Here we joined our respective regiments. I went to the 10th battalion. It had then earned the name of the fighting 10th. This night we dug ourselves in along two sides of a large field. Each man dug a shallow hole large enough to lie down comfortably in. Owing to my height I had to dig one at least six feet in length. I was wishing at that particular time that I happened to be that poor miserable little bugler as he was a little more than five feet tall. The next morning I for one was up before Reveley. I found it much more comfortable walking around in the cool of the morning than lying in a mud hole with only a great coat within a mile of me. I imagined something always happen to those lovely army blankets for they were generally conspicuous by their absence. The evening of the 28th was reasonably fine when we answered roll call prior to going up the line. Here we found ourselves in the last line of reserves the idea being to get used to the heavies. At times the shells became far too familiar with us consequently I lost some of my best pals. We spent a week like this on the Isaire Canal Bank living like the old cave dwellers only we were not there long enough and it wasn't peaceful enough to construct any labyrinths. Our work consisted of making shelters after a Jack Johnson had obliterated them. On the move again this time to billets about seven miles south of Bayeul it took a full night to march the distance with full kit. The roads didn't appear to get any softer as time went by but still one heard the everlasting kipplings, boots, boots, boots. As we had 10 minutes each hour to rest I was absolutely unconscious for nine and a half minutes of that time. On the 19th of May we were on foot again. I had a feeling it would not be to the last line of reserves this time. Neither it was for by the next night we were heading for the front line trenches one mile east of the village of Festoubert. At dusk we traversed communication trenches to our destination the front line on the edge of no man's land. At last after training and waiting for over seven months we relieved the Berkshires and took up our posts along with the little black devils as the eighth battalion is called in a trench which was only captured from the Germans the previous day. The portion of the trench we held was dug in a roadway and being fairly high ground was comparatively dry. This speaks wonders for a trench for we plotted through much mud and water to reach it. Every second man was detailed to mount guard while the remainder fought for 40 winks then relieved guard. The first two nights were uneventful though a heavy artillery duel was the standing program. The third night the 21st we were not going to give Fritzi a chance to come across but we were going to push him back. If a man tells you he was not nervous going over the top for the first time he lies. I felt nervous though I never confessed it and I wager everyone else felt the same way as we had to wait about two hours after being told we were going over. At eight o'clock we were sent up to a small communication trench about halfway across no man's land on the side toward the enemy. It cut across diagonally. There was a good sized gap on which some snipers had their rifles trained. At this point we lost a few of our company. It was a case of running the gauntlet for each man who passed it. All of us had to pass it three different times for in our first advance the order was canceled so we had to return till later on. About nine o'clock at dusk we finally went ahead to the end of the communication trench. Here we branched out on either side and spread out in open order to charge. By this time my nervousness had disappeared. My mind was set on the one object of getting someone and I gripped my gun and prayed for all the strength I could muster. With a wild cry of lucitania we received the orders to go. All I could do was yell to the boys to give them beans for I was knocked down and found my right leg was half blown off just below the thigh. If the boys hadn't taken their objective that night I should have been a prisoner instead of a hospital case for over 20 months in England. I'm just a plain buck private who fought with Canada's sons in a regiment of the maple leaf that made it hot for the Huns. I'm just a plain buck private and fought on the side of right to serve the world for democracy and beat the hunnish might. I'm just a plain buck private from the land of ice and snow and gave all I could for my country to help to vanquish the foe. It was probably an hour or two after the advance that some of the men came to see what they could do for us. In my particular case the shrapnel which had penetrated and completely shattered the right femur had also numbed the nerves therefore I was left conscious. However one of our battalion sergeants tied up the top of the leg for me with a length of cord which I was always in the habit of carrying. Four of the machine gunners who had just returned from the new trench made an attempt to carry me into the old communication trench but their good intentions were completely frustrated by the company captain a real cantankerous sort who leveled his revolver at me and declared he would shoot if the boys took me in. Though I felt sore in more ways than one I came to the conclusion that he was perfectly right as it might have blocked the trench to the reserves coming up. The only thing to do was put me on the ground again. Here I was expecting another shell every minute but Providence evidently thought I had received my share as I was free from any more shells though they were bursting close at hand continually. About two a.m. our battalion stretcher bearers managed to reach the position where many more with myself were lying. The shelling had then subsided to a great extent making it possible to continue the work of carrying out the wounded. I knew one of the three men who came alongside of me with a perfectly good looking stretcher. Though the way was long and very rocky we finally arrived at the first aid dressing station. After resting here for probably an hour I was conveyed in one of the London Scottish ambulances about five miles to a field hospital. I saw many of the boys here. Most of them appeared to be walking cases. The next thing I knew I was placed on the operating table where I smelled ether for the first time. I remember the doctor saying be perfectly still now and breathe naturally. After that I knew no more till the job of inserting numerous rubber tubes through the leg was finished. Having to spend two nights on ambulances and trains I arrived at a British base hospital in Boulogne. I remember the people cheering as our train pulled in but I wasn't in the mood for carrying what they did. The treatment was one of the best in this hospital though I only remained in it 14 days. In the bed next to mine there was a Scotchman who kept yelling continually. His leg had been amputated so I couldn't see what he had to kick about. Nevertheless it made it quite impossible to get any rest at all. On the morning of June 3rd the doctor marked me out which meant that I was going to Blighty. I hardly realized what it meant then. Again I was on the table this time to cut an abscess and to put a cumbersome iron splint on me. I think they called it a Hodgson's splint, one of those affairs that extended down two sides of the body to the feet. It took up a lot of room, so much so that I had to have a Ford ambulance all to myself. Consequently at the boat side I was taken for an officer and treated as one. This I didn't object to in the least. The Abert set sail soon after and about two hours afterward we were in Dover where we entrained in a regular hospital train. I was marked for Norwich in the county of Norfolk a short distance from the east coast. The night of June 5th our train pulled into Norwich station where the Red Cross ambulance conveyed us to our hospital. I found myself in a military ward of the General Hospital of Norwich, but only for a few minutes. They discovered that the beds were too small for both myself and the splint, so I was shifted to another ward where I was put to bed and became very much attached to this same bed for ten long months undergoing nine more operations in the hope of saving the limb. They eventually took it off, but I always have the consolation of knowing that I am far better off than a good many others. Editors note, the verses embodied in this story are in no way changed, but are printed exactly as Mr. Ochston delivered them to me. HLF. End of Chapter 18. Chapter 19 of What the Boys Did Over There by Henry Fox. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Why I Hate a German by Private John T. Miller. Number 122957, 96th Company, 6th Regiment, U.S. Marines. On the afternoon of July 24, 1917, as I was walking along the streets of Detroit, Michigan, my attention was attracted by the beat of drums and the tramp of marching men. It then dawned on me that I was big enough to do my bit, so I went to the Marine Recruiting Office, enlisted, and was sent to Parris Island, South Carolina, where I was trained for four months. On January 19, 1918, I left New York and, after thirteen days, arrived at a port in France. It was there I got my first glimpse of war. We were loaded in boxcars, about half the size of American cars. They are built for eight horses, but forty Marines had to spend sixty hours in them. We were then in the zone of advance, but stayed only about three weeks. We went into the line the first night. It was an experience I shall never forget. Cigarettes were barred, and no loud talking permitted. I thought it was very funny, but soon learned different. The third night in, Heine paid us a visit. There were thirty-seven of us holding about five hundred yards of front line. This, at one time, was a quiet sector, but it woke up on this night. We had no reserves, and retreat was impossible. So all we had to do was to stay and entertain our visitors. There were about two hundred fifty, and none of them looked starved to death. After the barrage lifted, we saw some of the boys that we had traveled over three thousand miles to see. I was in a days when I saw my first Heine, and he looked about as big as the Woolworth building. But I woke up in time to realize that I had a rifle and hadn't forgotten how to use it. Heine stopped in our wire, and stayed there. Our visitors were all given a royal reception. Six of our boys went to the hospital, but we left over a hundred of the Kaiser's boys in front of, and in, the trench, and had the trouble of burying them. From that night on, we took more precaution, and I was the one that was made the goat. My Bunky and I took up our post in No Man's Land at sunset each night, and stayed until midnight. We were put there for the purpose of announcing Heine if he should call again. Heine did not worry me so much, but the rats, which we called war babies, insisted on sleeping in my arms. And as we were in a position where the slightest noise would send us to the hospital, or perhaps west, the war babies had everything their own way. And the cooties would keep us company every night. They would parade up and down my back, and of course I had to stand for it. I laid out there three nights with my pal. On the fourth day, about five o'clock, we decided to wash, as it would be the first time in five days. We got down to the spring without being seen, and were enjoying a wonderful bath when the Heine spotted us, and started to snipe with his six-inch shells. Bill and I made for the dugout, and had about two hundred feet to go when a shell hit under Bill's feet. I did not stop, for it was useless, as all I could see was blood and a part of a shattered leg. We picked Bill up in a box. It sure hit me hard, but it is all in the game. I swore that night I would get even, and I think I have. After three months in the front line, in and around Verdun, we went out for a rest, but not for long. We had been in a rest camp about ten days, when on the night of May 28th at nine o'clock, we were ordered to move up the line, and stop Heine, who wanted to make Paris his headquarters. We were loaded in motor lorries, and rode all night and part of the day. We arrived at a little town, and got something to eat, the first we had in 24 hours. We then started on a march, which lasted 36 hours, when we arrived at a town about five miles behind the line, tired and hungry. I will go on record, right here, to say that I have been over every inch of France, in boxcars, hospital trains, motor lorries, and the rest I hyped. We arrived at this town about two a.m., and were ordered into the line, but thanks to our commanding officer we did not go. The inhabitants had evacuated, and we were told to go and sleep in any house we could find. It was here that I saw the first example of German culture. In a room in the house I went into, I saw a mother, with part of her head blown off, with a six-months-old baby in her arms, both lying on the bed, dead. In the corner was a six-year-old boy, who had evidently been killed by the same shell that killed the mother and baby. But with all that I had a good night's sleep, which I needed. In the morning we killed what livestock we could find, and sure did eat. That night we were ordered into the line, and there we began to see real war. Heine started to send over everything he had, in the way of shells, high explosives, shrapnel, and machine-gun bullets. There were no trenches, and the only protection we had were the holes which we dug to lie in. Things were flying, and I did not take time to get my shovel, which I had in my pack, but used my mess gear instead. We laid in those holes for three days, and dared not stick our heads up. If we did it meant taps, and that we would not have to answer revelry in the morning. What we had to eat we had at night, and it was very little, a French ration, consisting of monkey meat and French bread, but anything tasted good. One night a lad from Texas, who was not satisfied with his boudoir in the ground, decided to change hotels. About that time, Heine saved him the trouble by sending an 8-inch HE, which made a hole big enough to put a regiment in. So Tex decided to take up quarters in it. He had just arrived in his new home, or hole, when Heine duplicated the order, which hit on the edge of the first hole. Tex came sailing over my head. I first thought he had joined the aviation, and was going to heaven. But when I looked around, there was Tex sitting on the ground, trying to find out if he was all together, and cursing Heine for being so attentive. Looking at me he said, can you imagine those Dutchmen sniping at me with an 8-inch gun? On the afternoon of June 6th we received orders to pack up, and we all had the idea that we were to get a rest. All were counting on the sleep and bath we would have. But no such luck. It was here when the French had retreated so far that the artillery was no good to us, and the general in charge of the division said the words that will remain in history forever. Retreat. Hell, we are going ahead. And we were ordered to go over the top at 5.15. The order came at 5 o'clock. I cannot describe the feeling one has while waiting for the word. It seemed to me that the time would never come, but suddenly the silence was broken by the blast of a whistle, and we were on our way. The sun was shining, and the country looked wonderful, and across the wheat we started, to reach our objective, which was the town of Bush. We had gone no more than about 100 feet, when our captain, the first man to go down, was hit six times in the body. I began to realize then what we were up against, for Hiney must have had a million machine guns, and they were all working. The boy started to fall, and all that was heard was, I'm hit, or Hiney got me. A lad beside me got it in the ankle, and said to me, kid, what do you think of that dirty bunch of Dutchmen? They won't even let me get started. When you get into the town, kill 10 for me. I promised him I would, and left him. I don't know whether I fulfilled my promise, but I told him I did when I saw him later in the hospital. When I arrived at the town, which was our objective, there were 47 left of 256 in our original company. The Germans were in one end of the town, and we were in the other. And, as the reader will understand, one town could not hold both parties, so we started to move Hiney. Some of us were detailed to put Hiney out, and it was no easy job, for every Hiney had a machine gun. But it was the same old story. They would fire their guns until we were on top of them, then throw up their hands and shout, Comrade, and beg for mercy. But after you go through as far as that, you cease to be human, and don't know what mercy is. We reached our objective at 5.30 p.m., and at 9 o'clock, by direction of one lieutenant, the only officer left in the company, and a pal to all the boys, we had Hiney on the outside, the town fortified, and 900 men put into the position. Again and up until the time I was hit, it was little or no sleep, for Hiney insisted upon coming back into the town. On the afternoon of June 10th, I was going after some water, and some Hiney with a machine gun gave me my fare to the hospital, in the form of a bullet in the knee. Some of the boys carried me into a dugout, where I had to wait until dark, and then was carried to the rear, put in a fort ambulance, and started to Paris. 27 miles in a fort on a stretcher is no joyride, but it was good enough. Then I reached the hospital in Paris. I had not had my clothes off for 57 days. When I got a bath and saw a bed, with white linen and blankets, and something real to eat, I thought I was in paradise. After the operation, all I could do was to sing please go away and let me sleep. After three months in the hospitals of France, I was put on a transport and started for New York. I am now in the hospital awaiting discharge, and think it all a dream, and am in fear that someone will pinch me and I will wake up. Chapter 20 of What the Boys Did Over There by Henry Fox This Libervox recording is in the public domain. My duty to my country, by Private Jack Neeland, Number 105, 43rd Company, Fifth Regiment, U.S. Marines. When the Great World War was raging and the United States were preparing for any trouble that might occur between her and the Teutonic government, I was playing in vaudeville. April 6th, we received word that our government declared war on Germany. Immediately I decided to quit the show business and go into the service, but what branch I did not know as I was unfamiliar with the different outfits of Uncle Sam's noble army and navy. As I was walking down the street, I happened to notice different recruiting officers appealing to the men to enlist in the several outfits we have, for the sake of our folks at home, and for democracy. I happened to think of the navy as a good chance, but as I wished to be in the thick of the battles and excitement, I decided it was either the army or the United States Marines. While I was trying to fix my mind on what I should do, a marine sergeant came and started talking to me and asked me what I was going to do. I told him I was ready for the worst, and that I was anxious to go across the water and do my bit. He said that the United States Marines was the place for me, a boy with the spirit Americans wanted. Well it did not take me long to make up my mind, and shortly I was being examined by the doctor for physical fitness. I was confident I would pass the rigid test that is given to the Marines as I had never had an illness of any kind in my life. After the examination I was told I was one hundred percent perfect and sworn in as a private in the soldiers of the sea, as we call the Marines. First to fight on land and sea. Three days later I was called to depart for Paris Island, South Carolina, where I was to get my training. I arrived the 15th of April and was immediately sent to a quarantine station where all preparations were given, such as clothes, fingerprints taken, and then I was finally sworn in once more on the 21st day of April. After all these proceedings were over I was sent to the maneuvering ground where the greatest task lay. We drilled from morning until late in the evening, but I did not mind it as I knew that it was for a good purpose. Digging trenches, hand grenade practice, bayonet drills, and rifle practice were our continual routine for fully three months. I was then transferred to Marine Barracks, Philadelphia for duty, where I was assigned to the 5th Regiment to be ready for overseas duty. On the 21st day of August we received word to get ready to sail. We were then given overseas equipment and boarded the Transport Henderson. We went to New York where we loaded supplies and stores for the trip and started on our way to No Man's Land at midnight the 22nd. As the submarines were active at that time we were somewhat delayed in getting there, but we finally arrived without a scratch. We landed on the 7th day of September in St. Nazare, France. There we were taken to the Rue du Chateau where we were assigned to Barracks. Here we received our severe training. It was drill morning, school in afternoon, drill in evening for two and a half months. After this we were ready for anything that might be needed of us. On the 17th of November our commander received orders to take our men to the Flanders Front where we were to hold the southeastern corner of the Marne with the Australian and Zaks. We immediately departed and arrived there on a very rainy day. Now comes the first real encounter the Americans took part in. The Germans sent us a rapid shellfire from their position opposite to us. We immediately sent back an intense machine gun fire. The battle raged on for 17 hours. I received a wound in the leg and was immediately sent to Bayes Hospital where I was at once treated. We were treated fine because the French now realized that we were with them in heart and soul. I remained in hospital 23 days and then was sent back to the front, this time to join the 43rd Regiment, 2nd Division, who were holding a front in Belgium on the Cambrai side. We advanced and took several little towns around Swassan and stopped at Saint Quentin which was being shelled by the Austrians. We took position and immediately started offensive. We succeeded in capturing 2,000 prisoners who were sent to one of the French prison camps. After this encounter we were sent to rest camps where our clothes were replaced by new ones and allowed to visit the neighboring towns for 72 hours. I with a comrade who you will read about later went to Paris and had a very good time. The French people could think of nothing too good for us. After having a fine time we reported back and occupied the 2nd line with the Canadians and once more at Sartourmy. I was sent with a message to Major General Leonard Wood. It was a dispatch of 53 miles and I was to do this in an hour and ten minutes. I had a Harley twin six and I started out. It was about 9.30 Paris time when I was passing through a lonely village, a German sniper picked me off in the head. I regained consciousness and fired my bolt automatic and got my man. I succeeded in reaching my destination two minutes before time but in an unconscious condition. I guess the good Lord was good to me and brought me to life again so that I could explain my mission. I was taken to base hospital number three where my wound was treated with care and the lead extracted. For two weeks and a half I was practically senseless. My memory was impaired caused by the shock of the bullet and the intense speed I was going. In this hospital I met a German who had been captured and had been sent to the hospital to be treated for a scalp wound. He was a very well educated boy about 19 years old and could speak English very well. He told me about how against his will he was dragged in and made to fight for Prussianism when he always believed in democracy. It almost brought tears to my eyes to listen to his story about the people who were wishing that the Kaiser and the Teutonic power would be killed instead of taking every young fellow against his will and making him fight. I soon recovered bid this boy goodbye and moved on to the second division who were still occupying Flanders front. One day while waiting through mud a big shell exploded in front of us and we lost a great number of men and I fell into the shell crater with nine other men. The crater must have been 40 feet deep with about three feet of mud at the surface. Here we did not eat for five days. We had to drink the green slime and mud so that we might not perish from thirst. Every time we wanted to sleep we would fall in this mud and wake up all caked with it. We were finally rescued by a French patrol party and given plenty of food and nourishment to put us on our feet again. We were sent to a convalescent camp and told to do nothing but rest. After resting for a month I was again placed in position with our snipers with Private Al Barker as my companion. I at once took position in the limbs of a tree so that I could notice any patrols that might pass. On our southern corner we saw a raiding party of Germans fixing their machine guns to clean up a town called St. Form. We immediately opened fire on these men and succeeded in picking off a large majority of them. Suddenly my comrade received a wound in the knee and fell to the ground. I descended and picking him up carried him safely to our lines receiving at the same time three bullet wounds. We were sent to base hospital number 16 where we were operated on. It seemed as though it was a year before we were well. Finally we were sent to the front at below Woods. This place was approximately the turning point of the war. It is situated 38 miles from Paris and the Crown Prince's army were trying to advance through it. Here for 48 hours we were continually on the alert always watching the Germans. We did not eat for 40 hours. On the 18th of July at 12.03 a.m. we received the call to arms. We were ordered to advance to the Forest of Pair where a great number of Germans were operating. We traveled seven and a half miles on foot and placed ourselves on the southeastern part of Chateau Thierry. We opened fire immediately and this is where the bloodiest encounter of our service took place. We succeeded in starving our opponents and cut off all their ammunition. It was a big disaster to us as they outnumbered us four to one. After the British had been thrown back the Marines took the field and succeeded in annihilating the Crown Prince's army. Of our battalion of 1,000 men only 147 survived and practically all of these were wounded. The Germans seeing that they were beaten immediately sent over their fumes of deadly mustard gas and liquid fire. I happened to be one of the unlucky ones and received a big dose of it. It fairly burned the clothes from my back, blinding me instantly and deafened me. I was taken to base hospital number 23 where I remained 42 days. After I had recovered a little I was sent to a convalescent camp to await my departure for the good old USA. On September 24 I sailed from Brest and arrived safely in Hoboken, October 3, 1918. End of Chapter 20 Chapter 21 of What the Boys Did Over There by Henry Fox This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Dardanelles Campaign by Sergeant M. L. Nicholson, number 3736, 10th Liverpool Scottish BEF. At the outbreak of the war I enlisted in the 10th Liverpool Scottish Regiment BEF. It was at 2.30 p.m. on September 14, 1914 I went into the recruiting office and offered my services. The captain looked at me and said, I am afraid you are too young. I was then 17 years of age. With tears in my eyes I walked out only to meet my six pals who were in kilts. One of them, Vic Gordon, said, come back at five o'clock and try again. So I made up my mind I would get in the army at five o'clock that day and I was accepted, I think because they were so busy in the office that they did not notice me. Well I went home the day after with my knees all bare, perhaps for the first time since my childhood. My folks just roared and laughed at me, saying you will never make a soldier and a lot more things that made my scotch-blood boil. I stayed at home for three days before I was called and then only then did I know what being a soldier meant. The first thing was to learn how to turn and salute. Then came a route march around the country for ten miles. It was no joke with great big army boots that weighed about 15 pounds. It seemed that much to me. After being in the army for about four weeks we were brought to the fields to drill. What I could not understand was that they put cows and other animals into this big field the night before and that field was just terrible for a man to walk on, let alone lay down in. We were all wondering what we were going to do and I can tell you it wasn't long before we found out. The captain came up to us and said, All right boys, we are ready for some drill in this field. You should have seen the look on some of the boys' faces. I may mention that some of them were bankers and lawyers and even millionaires' sons. I heard one man say in a typical English way, Oh, isn't the army beastly, old man? Of course not being used to army life, it would make any man swear, but as the days rolled on we all got used to it. They moved us from a place called Slop Field in Liverpool to a place called No Man's Field in Blackpool. Every day it rained we would go on this field for extended order drill. At any rate we became used to army life in what I thought a very short time. It was November 1914, about seven o'clock, when we arrived at Southampton and were put up for the night in stables with damp blankets to cover ourselves. After that night I began to suspect something. I just sat down to think that they were breaking us in for France. We were in this place till December 3rd, and at 12 that night we sailed for an unknown destination. We arrived at a place called Le Havre, France. There I met with an accident. A horse kicked me in the right leg and put me out of business for a month. That was my start to see real life. I was fixed up by the Red Cross and sent to a battalion called the Lancashire Fusiliers. We left France and arrived in London, January 10th. They gave us ten days leave and packed us on a big liner called the Elania. We left on this liner and I did not know where I was until we arrived at Gibraltar. We were there for five hours, then set sail for Malta. We received orders not to leave the ship as we would not be there more than 12 hours, and that 12 hours seemed like 12 years. We could see all the people in shops, but we could not get to them. We sailed away from Malta to an unknown destination. About 100 miles out to sea, we received orders to turn back, on account of the submarines being very active around that district. But an hour after we received that message, we had orders to proceed on our journey and all the way we could see dead horses and boxes floating on the water. We were told later that a ship had been torpedoed a short distance in front of us. We were out three days when we sighted land and believe me it was a treat as the drill on the ship was very bad. The boys had to scrub out their bunks and the decks, and others had to keep watch all night for the little devils in the water. Anyway, it was a great relief when we disembarked at Alexandria, Egypt. It was some place. I met people from all over the world. We were taken over to the barracks, and a very funny thing happened. I was in charge of 24 men, and let me tell you, they were all rough necks. I asked one how he liked the place, and he said, oh, I would like to be in the bee hotel playing a game of pool. He had just time to get those words out of his mouth when a man with a big cigar in his mouth put his arm around his neck and shouted, Tom, my dear brother, you should have seen how they hugged and kissed each other for about 15 minutes. All this time the rest of the boys were trying to make out the Arabs. They were visitors looking at us with open mouths. We had our drill on a desert with a broiling sun on us all the time. We left Alexandria the latter end of March, 1915, and arrived at Limnos, a Greek island later used as a hospital base. After we left Limnos in a convoy of about 15 ships, we arrived at our destination, the Dardanelles. All that we could see in front of us was a great big hill. Later we found out they called it Kemera Hill. The spirit of everyone was good. We were issued 200 rounds of ammunition and carried our packs on our backs. All that I could hear from the boys was, we will take that hill by the morning. Little did we know what was in store for us. Orders came to disembark, so we all helped to lower the lifeboats and climbed down the rope ladders into them. I was all settled down with the rest of the boys to make a clean landing without the Turks knowing. Up came a tugboat and took about 10 small boats in tow. Just at that moment we were under fire. The big battleships opened up and it was some bombardment. The 15-inch guns on the Queen Elizabeth let go of the rest. We were about 20 yards off the beach when, before my eyes, I saw my comrades fall in the water, boats capsizing, rifles in the air, and arms and legs flying around. On seeing this our tug turned toward Cape Hellos, on the right of West Beach, and every man made for the water. Some managed to get on land. You see the Turks, mastered by German officers, put barbed wire entanglements into the water. They knew we could only land in small boats as the water was not deep enough for a liner to get close. As the lifeboats turned they got tangled in the wire and overturned. Some of the boys tried to grasp hold of the wire, but had to let go as it cut their hands, and of course they were drowned. We lost an awful number of men before the real scrap began, and I will say it was some landing. I did not believe I could come through this bit of a scrap. When I landed I looked to see if I was all there. The Turks had trenches right up to the water's edge, and, God bless those Australians, they drove the Turks out of the first line and gave us a chance to land. I asked a chap next to me what he thought of it and how he liked it. Well, he gave me a look enough to kill me and said, well, the first five years is the worst. After that I suppose we will get used to it. I was five days on land when I began to feel the strain of not having enough food or water. Water was scarce and my mouth was all blistered. It was so hot. We were getting a little supply of water and biscuits from the ships. They came in gasoline cans that had not been washed out properly, but we were so thirsty that we did not bother about the taste. When I received my wound on the head I did not know what hit me, but I found myself on board a boat called Andania, a sister's ship to the one I left England in. I had a big bandage stuck on my head and was shipped to Lymnos. I lost my memory for a bit and they called me a serious case, so they packed me to a hospital in Alexandria. I fell unconscious again for ten hours and as I opened my eyes I could just see a pair of lovely blue ones looking down at me, and a little motherly hand grasped mine. I cannot explain the feeling in my heart in words when I saw it was a mother. I called her mother because she was a Red Cross nurse. The first thing she asked me was, can I write a letter home for you? You can imagine what I said. I had not heard from home since I left, and I told her to write and say I was all right and would be home soon. I was in that hospital three weeks, and every day I would ask that lovely mother to write for me, as I was too weak to write myself. It broke my heart when I had to leave that hospital as all the nurses were so kind to me. I sailed on a hospital ship for England and was put in a hospital in Liverpool, my own hometown. In this hospital there was a funny Irish boy who had come from France and was all covered with bandages. I made a pal of him, and the jokes he used to tell me made me forget the pain. One Wednesday a lady came to see us in the hospital and looked at me, saying, were you hurt at the front? And my Irish pal answered for me, saying, no, ma'am, sure he tripped over a matchstick and sure a fly kicked him. Oh, he was full of the devil. On leaving that hospital I got a month's leave to recuperate and spend it at home. I was recalled for service at the end of the month to my delight as I wanted to see some more fighting. I was attached to the second battalion of the 10th Liverpool Scottish, and we were detailed to go to France. End of Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Of What The Boys Did Over There by Henry Fox This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The First Of The Tanks by Sgt. M. L. Nicholson rushed out of the pleasant atmosphere of an English hospital into France, fenced to Eris, to help extend the British front, was my next little bit of adventure. Eris at that time was a sort of resting place, as the fighting there was not half so severe as at Gallipoli, and besides it was held on a 50-50 basis, the Germans holding one half the village and the British the other. Vimy Ridge nearby and Eris were well sown with mines, and this being known to the enemy we were not molested by surprise attacks as we otherwise would have been. Close upon Eris stood Devil's Wood, a point of vantage to whichever side could hold it. It was a much sought after place and had recently been rested from the British. It was up to the newcomers, mostly from the First King's Liverpool Regiment, to regain it. Needless to say we did this thoroughly and kept on advancing to floors. At this stage of the game a great surprise was sprung on us. We were keyed up to the highest point ready for battle, and it was to be our first attack on floors, when of a sudden we were drenched by a deluge of tear shells. A tear shell is one of the meanest of all shells, as it gives out a poison that causes the tear ducts to turn almost inside out, and the tears, which continually flow, change to a sickly looking green fluid. On top of that we were also treated to a breakfast of liquid gas and, believe me, I got my fill on that memorable morning. To make sure that I was out for good, a stray piece of shrapnel found its way through my helmet and opened a three-inch scalp wound, which I had received as a souvenir from a Turk at the Dardanelles. The photograph shows how my helmet suffered. The gas attack in the morning temporarily blinded my right eye. However, all these minor affairs did not occur until after I had witnessed the greatest surprise of the war. It was at the zero hour, and we were nervously awaiting the word to go over, when five huge, lumbering monsters crept forward from our lines. Could this be a bad dream, or were we seeing things? But look! They are spitting fire. They don't stop. Down into a trench and over they go. Barbed wires like a spider's web to them. God, how they travel these animated blocks of steel. They look like caterpillars or frogs. They look like every living thing that crawls, and the enemy's shells fall from them like water from a duck's back. Onward they go, and we are told to follow them. The rest is history. They were the first five tanks used in the war, and, at once, were recognized as the most terrible of all engines of destruction. Their presence revived our fellows as though an electric current had passed through them. These first tanks were a symbol of our strength and determination to win, and when we saw them sweep forward majestically, literally eating up the hun devils, my heart was glad and the pain of my wounds vanished. The boys now had a fighting chance against the wicked machinations of the foe. We had gone the enemy one better at his own game of inventions, and victory was only a question of building more tanks behind which the infantry could find shelter in the attack. End of Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Of What The Boys Did Over There, by Henry Fox This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Sunshine Of The Trenches I had just returned from a long summer's work on a surveying party on the Canadian Pacific Railway and that everyone in my hometown, Montreal—that is, the men—were all dressed in uniform, and the women seemed to be looking at me, and at first I felt uncomfortable and wondered why they stared at me. Then I realized that I had just returned from the brush of the Great Canadian Northwest. I knew, of course, that there was a war on and the boys were going over, but for the moment on my arrival in town forgot. The boyfriends who I chummed with were overseas and my blood began to boil. I was then nineteen years of age and was quite eligible for service. After a few days at home I announced to my mother and father that I was going overseas. Both objected and said that I should take out a commission. That did not suit me, and I thought of the quickest way to get over. On my way to McGill one morning I stopped to talk to two boys in uniform. I asked them how they liked the army and what unit they belonged to. One said, Army life is great. We are university boys to reinforce the famous Princess Pat's, and I believe it is the quickest way over. That was just what I wanted, and I asked the boys to go with me to the recruiting office, which they did. Corporal Cote was there to greet us, and it was not long before I was signed up. After all sorts of questions I was given a small slip of paper with my number on it, number 475337, and a hat badge with Universities Overseas Company, and on my shoulders were letters that read PPCLI, Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry. I had heard all about the famous Pat's and was of course glad that I was to be one of them. It was September 28, 1915, that I was sworn in as a soldier, and I felt fine. We trained in Canada at McGill University for two months, and had it not been for the war I would have been well on my way as a student of that university. We had guard work to do, physical training, and route marching. Then word was passed around that we were to go overseas, and we were all delighted, as none of us wanted to be home guards. On November the 15th we left Montreal by train, amid the cheering crowds of our friends, sweethearts, and mothers. Two days after we arrived at Halifax, where we embarked at 5 p.m. on the SS Lapland. The people in Halifax were there to mail letters or postal cards for us, which we threw from the steamer. At 7 p.m. we set out on our long voyage, and as the boat steamed out the band on the deck played when the roll is called up yonder I'll be there. But the funny part was that every member of the band was about 60 years old, and we knew he wouldn't be there. We had eight good days going over, and all enjoyed it except a few who treated the fish in the ocean. The latter part of November we arrived in England at Plymouth, and in the rain embarked on a train to our training camp at Saint Martin's Plain, near Shorncliffe. As you know we train there, but that will not interest you as much as our time in France, so I will skip that to the day we sailed for France. At 4 a.m. we all fell in, and the roll call was taken. Then we marched to the train after having our paybook made up to date. We never forgot the paybook or the dinner call. A thing that all the boys noticed was that we were to cross the channel from Southampton on the SS Duke of Connaught, a fitting place for Princess Pat's. Other boys said that was luck. It was for some of us. We arrived at Havre, France, and in the rain marched seven miles to a camp called the Central Training Camp, where we spent a few days receiving instructions in modern warfare. After the few days in camp we marched seven miles back to Havre, and proceeded by train to Popringe in those beautiful Pullman cars marked 40 men, eight horses. We arrived at Popringe at 5 p.m. after spending all night and part of the next day in the cars. As we came nearer to our station we could hear the shells bursting and the booming of the guns. One could see nothing, but heads stuck out of the car windows just as far as craning necks could stretch. Arriving at Popringe we met a lieutenant who asked the sergeant, are you for the Pat's? The sergeant replying, yes sir. In a very English way the lieutenant said, oh very well, follow me. I know where the Pat's are and I was sent for you. Well, we followed him. He took us four miles the wrong way and back again. Then we had an extra two miles to the Pat's quarters. He knew where the Pat's were all right, all right. Now we are with the regiment and I was put in number three company under major Charlie Stewart who was one good fellow. The regiment was out for rest, but we worked every night going up the line to do work in the trenches and help the engineers. Now to tell of one or two little experiences in the front line say about the time of the third battle of Ypres. The regiment held the line at Hooge and we were all university men as the old regiment was practically all wiped out except a handful. Our major was well liked and a word from him was well obeyed. A few days before the big show I was sent out on a scouting party of twelve with Lieutenant Fife in charge. We succeeded in getting over to the German wire and I don't know whether the Germans got wise to our coming through the sneezing of one of the party or whether the clipping of the wire was heard. But we were greeted with first a rifle shot from a sniper, then a bomb, then a dozen, but only two of the boys were killed. We moved further up the line and a little closer to Fritz's line. There we remain quiet for a few seconds. I being near Lieutenant Fife was asked by him to follow, which I did. He went up to a part of the Huns line that was built of old sandbags where we could look right up the German line as the starshell burst and lit up the place. As everything was quiet the boys were anxious to start something, so a few bombs were hurled in, but in return we had the same amount and had to return to our own lines minus two of the boys. It was on a working party that some fun occurred, as it always does in the trenches. We were moving from the road to proceed up the China wall in the Ypres salient, which led to the trenches running through the shattered village of Huge when the sergeant major said to me, Alen, special duty, step out. I thought I wonder what is coming now. After he had the number of men he wanted and all the other boys were up the line, he called me and pointed to twelve large thermos soup tanks, said, see those, Alen? I said yes sir. Well, he said, take them up the line. I looked at him and then at the tanks and said, shall I take them all up at once or one at a time? He gave me one look and said, don't get funny, this is a soft job for you. I said, but I can't carry those up. He said, you must. Now the soup tanks were about four feet high and about a foot in diameter. I said again, sir, I can't carry that up. He, a little angry, said, you must. I said I can't carry it. It is bigger than I am. Then he said, well, a man is to help you. So he sent a man whose name was Cleary, an Irishman, about six feet two inches tall, and as I was only five feet five inches, it was going to be rather awkward for us both, as you have to put a long pole through the loops on each side of the tank and put the pole on your shoulders. The tank hangs in the center. Cleary, being taller than I, in the trench mats very slippery, we had one blank of a time. I was getting the worst of it. We slipped and stumbled and spoke about a hundred different kinds of swear words. Now the china wall ends about halfway up and we then step down into the trench. Just about twenty feet away from the end of the china wall there was a large shell hole and our trench mats, which are made of wood, went across one side of the shell hole. When the shell hole is full of muddy water, the trench mats float. This night Cleary and I happened to pass it when it was full. It was very dark and I did not notice that the mat was loose as I was leading, so upon putting my foot on the mat down it went. The hole was about eight feet deep and I felt it going from under me and pulled on the pole. Soup tank pole and Cleary and all followed me into that shell hole. When we came up covered with that lovely slimy mud you couldn't tell which was the soup tank. Then I remembered what the sergeant major had said. This is a soft job for you and believe me it was. There's one thing I would like to say and that is the boys of the Princess Patts had wonderful courage and always a good word for each other. I can picture plainly our trip over the top at Hooge when I went over with the second wave. I could see the boys on our left going through a swamp up to their wastes in filth, plowing through their rifles up over their heads so they would not get blocked with dirt and when a man met a bullet with his number he would fall backward or forward and disappear under this water and mud just like quicksand. It was after a terrific bombardment of our lines. I was detailed to fill sandbags in a shell hole beside a communication trench just back of the front lines. I was with five other chums when a shell dropped on the far corner of the shell hole which I was facing and the shrapnel penetrated my left shoulder, mouth, right eye, and a small piece in my left leg. My chum, Nelson, was badly wounded in the back and I believed the other four boys were buried. I never heard if they got them out as I was unconscious but when I was struck I can remember first seeing a green light felt a burning in my eye and a blow on my shoulder as if struck with a sledgehammer. I felt myself slide down in the mud and I knew nothing until I awoke in the major's dugout. I was told what had happened to the other boys. I was then taken to the dressing station and in two days arrived at number three Canadian General Hospital at Boulogne. I was blind in both eyes for a month, had two operations in France and was then sent to England to the fourth London General Hospital, Denmark Hill. After spending a few months there I was sent to the CCAC, Canadian Casualty Assembly Centre, better known as Charlie Chaplains. This was at Folkstone. After having two boards they found me unfit for further service in England or France so I was billed for Canada. Arriving in Canada on the SS Empress of Britain at Quebec I was sent to the convalescent home Belmont Park at Montreal and after treatment was honourably discharged as physically unfit. I trained in the McGill OTC and later came to New York with the British Canadian Recruiting Mission where I lectured and did recruiting work through New York City. Since leaving the mission I have travelled to the West Indies and through the Eastern part of the United States. Many of my experiences I have omitted on account of space but I am proud to have belonged to a famous regiment, the Princess Pat's.