Captured; sixteen months as a prisoner of war

Front matter

Ik

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Class _____ Book,

Foreword

At the time of my return to Canada I had absolutely no intention of writing a book on my experiences as a Prisoner of War, and laughed when the idea was first suggested to me. My friends showed such keen interest, however, in what happened to me during the time I was mourned as dead and afterwards, when my first letter home restored me to life, that, to prevent repeatedly living over again many experiences which I would much rather forget, I have written this book.

Many Canadian families are sitting at home wondering under what circumstances one or more of their loved ones are living while Prisoners of War, and a few American families are already doing the same thing. Unfortunately it is very likely that this unhappy list will be added to as the war progresses. I trust that my attempt at the portrayal of the life of a Prisoner of War may in some way relieve the minds of the perplexed friends and relatives in that it tells them many things, which I was surprised to learn, are not already known. Of course, it must be understood that no two prisoners have exactly the same experiences — would that they could all have my good fortune!

vii viii FOREWORD

But, many of them are living, or will live, under circumstances similar to those under which I passed sixteen long months.

It is the Prussian spirit of militarism which is responsible for most of the brutality, and, until it is stamped out, there will never be peace in any part of the globe. If I succeed in these pages in arousing the minds of many people to the realisation of the fact that, owing to this spirit of militarism, our Prisoners of War have suffered hardships to the like of which no human being should ever be subjected, and that, even to-day, their treatment is often far from humane, I will feel that my efforts have not been in vain.

I never wrote a book before in my life and in fact this one was not written, but, for the most part, dictated. I have not attempted to make it a work of art in the literary world — such a thing would be impossible for me ; but I have attempted to give a plain, straightforward statement of absolute facts : I have not even used fictitious names.

I trust that nothing I have said will in any way make the life of my friends, who are still in Germany, even more hard, but rather, that any influence this book may have will speed the day when a more free and generous exchange of Prisoners of War can be arranged between belligerent nations.

J. H. D.

Toronto, Dec. 4, 1917.

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

I Our Last Trip In ...... 17

II The Day Before ....... 22

CHAPTER I Our Last Trip In

" All present and correct, sir," reported the Company Sergeant-Major of " A " Company, 4th Canadian Mounted Rifles, as the officers came on parade for what was to be the last time. We were quite proud of our company because we had just received a reinforcing draft of 40 men which brought our numbers up to about 120 — slightly over one-half the number we should have had. But in those days men were not as plentiful as they are now. We had to get along somehow.

Every man was carefully inspected to see that he had his steel helmet, two gas masks and his iron rations. The latter consisted chiefly of a tin of bully beef and some hard biscuits. These were most necessary, as we never knew when the Germans might attempt a flank movement at the base of the Ypres salient, and if this were successful those of us who were at the nose of the salient might have to subsist for two or three days on our iron rations until a way could be cut through again. That tin of bully beef struck the men as being a piece of useless and very heavy furniture which it was advisable to " ditch " if possible.

It was just getting dusk as the inspection was completed. Every man hitched his pack up into a comfortable position on his back, gave a final tug at his belt and in a few minutes we were off on that long journey of seven miles, past Vlamertinghe and Ypres, right up the salient to the front line. Every man looked as though he were just going back to work after his summer holidays. We had had an eight- day rest and we were now going in to do a sixteen-day tour.

The 4th C. M. R. were taking over a new part of the line. They were usually in Sanctuary Wood in the trenches which ran south from the gap at Hooge, commencing at the Appendix, and ending about opposite the Bird Cage, that famous concrete snipers' post in the German lines which seemed to laugh at our artillery and continued to take its daily toll among our men.

But on the night of May 31st, 1916, we were going into trenches which ran in a southwesterly direction in front of Observatory Ridge and Armagh Wood. The right of our line was about 500 yards from Hill 60 and rested on a short gap which separated us from the Second Division. We had the good fortune for the first time in ages to be loaded on a train

that sneaked up as far as without a light.

Here we detrained and, after some marching,

OUR LAST TRIP IN 19

reached Shrapnel Corner where we turned east towards Zillebeke. At Transport Farm, to the south of Zillebeke Lake, we were met by the guides of the 7th Battalion from whom we were taking over. From this point each company advanced separately with its own guides. The night was dark, illumined only by the flares from the front line which swept in a large semi-circle to right and left. The flares threw into relief the broken and twisted stumps of trees and the uneven sand -bag parapets of the trenches. The night was very still except for the occasional crash of a hand grenade or the crack of a rifle.

We moved along the open road until the rising ground brought us in line with some of the lead from one of Fritz's " typewriters " which was traversing that part of the scenery. We " flopped " in the ditch a couple of times and then turned to the left between Observatory Ridge and Maple Copse. Shortly after this we entered the communication trench which took us to the front line.

The ordinary trench is narrow enough for a man wearing full equipment, but when a relief is going on the trench is filled with men loaded down like pack mules, waiting to go out as soon as the relief is completed. We bumped and squeezed our way along to the accompaniment of many ejaculations never heard in Sunday School. At length we came to the section of trench we were to occupy. It was on the extreme right of the Third Division.

During the day Lt.-Col. Ussher, accompanied by his adjutant, Capt. Symons, and all the company commanders, had gone over the whole line and each knew thoroughly the peculiarities of the parts of the line with which he had most to do. A non-commissioned officer from each company, the machine gun section, etc., had also gone in ahead to take over trench stores — a supply of such articles as shovels, rubber boots, wiring gloves, ammunition, hand grenades, etc. Thus everything was in readiness for a quick relief when we arrived.

In our part of the line we were met by our company commander, Lieut. Cockshutt, and our Company Sergeant-Major who superintended the distribution of the men and arranged reliefs for each sentry post. Each man was shown his alarm post, and at these particular points every man " stood to " while the relief was going on. At length the message " Relief Completed " was passed down the line, and the men of the 7th Battalion heaved a sigh of satisfaction and left the trenches. After a final inspection by the company commander, the order " Stand Down " was given and all but the sentries on duty, the trench officer, and trench non-commissioned officer, sought out a spot in a dug-out, or a hole in the side of the support trench, in which to stretch their weary legs.

Our home, which was known as an elephant dug-out, was about eight feet square, and was roofed over with very heavy corrugated steel in the form of

OUR LAST TRIP IN 21

an arch, each corrugation being about eight inches broad. This steel roof was very strong and served to support a large amount of earth and sandbags covered over with a detonating layer of broken rock, so that in case of a direct hit the shell would explode on the outside rather than the inside of the dug-out. The door consisted of a wooden frame sunk in the wall of sandbags which closed the entrance. At the top hung a blanket soaked in chemicals and rolled up in a convenient position to be dropped to close the door in case of a gas attack. Inside there was just room to stand up. There were two beds made of wire netting stretched over a wooden frame. In the centre was a small rough table where we did all our work and ate our meals, sitting on the edge of the beds. It was the first time we had had such a good dug-out, and we took great pride in hanging up our equipment on nails driven into the sandbags w'hich closed up the far end of the arch. There was plenty of room, as on this last tour in the trenches there were only three officers in " A " Company, Lieut. Cockshutt, Lieut. Wells and myself. One was always on duty, so that the other two could each occupy a bed and snatch a little very necessary sleep.

CHAPTER II The Day Before

The morning of June 1st broke bright and clear. Those of us who were off duty spent our time in a thorough inspection of the new trenches which were excellently built. They were very dry and had more head cover than the old trenches up in Sanctuary Wood. The fire step was square and solid and not crumbling away as in many of the other trenches we had taken over. The general system consisted of two lines about twenty-five yards apart — the front line contained the fire bays separated by heavy traverses to localise the effect of a direct hit; the second line contained all the dug-outs, and it was here that the men remained when not actively on duty in the front line. Three communicating trenches joined these two lines on our company frontage. The second line was a more or less straight trench without any bays or fire steps, and was really used as a communication trench to move the men from one part of the front line to another without the necessity of their passing along the front line. The brigade machine gun company had its guns mounted in excellent emplacements commanding our front, and also the gap

THE DAY BEFORE 23

on our right which separated us from the Second Division and which was patrolled only at night.

While investigating these machine gun emplacements I discovered Lieut. A. W. Sirae, of the 8th Brigade Machine Gun Company, who had formerly been with me in the 35th Battalion. This was the first time we had met since leaving England, and we had many things to talk about. We sat down in a sunny spot of the trench, propped our backs against the parados, filled our pipes and enjoyed a pleasant half hour. The day was very quiet. Nothing disturbed us except an occasional salvo of whiz-bangs, which are as harmless as a bottle of milk if you stand flat against the front face of the trench. They are very annoying, however, if you are trying to snatch a little sleep in your dug-out.

Talking of sleep reminds me of an incident which happened one time when we were in the old trenches at the Appendix. The officers' dug-out consisted of a fire bay roofed over with a piece of corrugated galvanised iron, sprinkled with about two inches of dirt. The parapet, which was our only protection from frontal fire, was hardly bullet proof. The roof leaked like a sieve and one of Fritz's grenades, thrown into No Man's Land, shook so much dirt down on your face that you imagined you had swallowed a potato patch.

One of our officers had just entered this palatial residence one day and stretched himself out for a short siesta on a downy couch consisting of a few empty sand bags laid on the hard earth fire step, which was about one and a half feet wide, when Fritz decided to throw over a few "beer kegs" (Minnenwerfers). We got forty of them in about twenty minutes. The last one landed plumb in the centre of the trench just beside the officers' dug-out. It made a hole about twenty feet across, twelve feet deep, and buried three of our men alive. We eventually managed to dig them out, however, unwounded but shell-shocked. It was at this moment that the officer, who had gone blissfully to sleep, emerged from the so-called dug-out, rubbed his eyes and muttered : " Say, boys, what's going on? I thought I heard something." He was the soundest sleeper I ever knew.

About sunset one of our observation balloons broke loose and started to drift over the German lines. The occupants had descended in their parachute, and our "Archies" (anti-aircraft guns) were doing their best to destroy it before it landed in German territory. The Germans, thinking it might still be occupied, also shelled it. There must have been thousands of rounds of ammunition expended on this one balloon. The sky was white with puffs of smoke. Just as it disappeared from view we saw a German aeroplane go up and finish it off.

After supper I was sitting in the dug-out writing home by the light of a flickering candle, when I was informed that there was a corporal outside

THE DAY BEFORE 25

who wanted to see me. He turned out to be Bombardier " Chuck " Gibson who was with the sixtypound " Tock Emma " (Trench Mortar) Battery located on our frontage. We had a long talk over the games of bowls he, Ken Douglas, Howard Brown, Doug. Addison and I used to have in Toronto. All these boys were either in England or France. " Chuck " promised to bring Howard Brown, who happened also to be in the front line with the " Tock Emmas/' over to see me the next day. He told me of a " strafe " they were putting on next morning about 8.30 and I promised to go over and observe for them. Unfortunately, this little party never came off. The next day I w T as so busy I never saw " Chuck." He was killed at his gun, which fired until it was knocked out. Howard Brown was taken prisoner.

We all seemed in a reminiscent mood that evening. Harvey Cockshutt and I spent a pleasant hour, after " Chuck " left, discussing our plans for after the war. This is the most cheering thing one can do when in the trenches, and, outside of the business of killing Huns, is the favourite talk amongst the soldiers. Poor old Harvey's dreams were never to be realised. He, too, died doing his duty like the brave fellow that he was. It was recognised throughout the 4th C. M. R. that he was one of our finest officers.

At 11 P. M. that night, when I was on duty and patrolling the trench, I noticed that a whiz-bang had set fire to the dried sand bags on the top of one of the dug-outs. I considered that the occupants had a personal interest in this little affair so I aroused them and we got to work with shovels. Fritz thought we were celebrating Guy Fawkes' night a little early in the season and decided to break up the party with machine gun fire. However, we managed to extinguish the flames without any casualties.

At 12 o'clock I woke the officer who was to go on duty after me and lay down to sleep until 4 o'clock.

CHAPTER III June 2nd

At 4 a. M., June 2nd, 1916, 1 went on duty again. Dawn was preparing to break and we all stood to in the front line. Just before dawn was the favourite time for the Boches to pull off a surprise attack, but we were always ready for them. We remained on guard till it was quite daylight and then, as trench officer, it was my duty to issue the rum. A little of this "fire water" is the finest thing in the world when you are chilled through after a long night spent in your clothes. It wards off many a cold and starts the blood circulating freely again. The only other way this could be accomplished would be by exercise. Anyone was welcome to go out in. No Man's Land for an early morning run, but this alternative was not popular, it being undoubtedly a more or less unhealthy form of sport.

When the rum issue was completed, "Stand Down" was given. Everything was running smoothly. The sentries on duty gazed steadfastly through their periscopes and the runners sat or lay, always within kicking distance of the sentry, so as to be able to warn the occupants of that particular fire bay in case of an attack. The other men busied themselves tidying up the trenches in preparation for the inspection by the Divisional Commander, General Mercer, and our Brigadier, General Williams, which was to take place that morning. A large party had been working all night repairing a gap in the parapet blown in by a Minnenwerfer and which we had to pass on the run to avoid being sniped from Hill 60. Another day party was busy filling sandbags under cover, in preparation for further work next night. I spent some time with my Platoon Sergeant completing in my roll book the details regarding the new men who had been attached to my platoon.

At 6 o'clock I went off duty, entered the dug-out, slipped off my equipment, put my steel helmet on the table and settled down for an hour or two of sleep. At 6.30 I was up again to see Col. Ussher and Capt. Jack Symons who had come to make a preparatory inspection of the trenches. As they went away I bade good-bye, for the last time, to Jack, who was my brother-in-law.

At a few minutes to 8 o'clock breakfast was announced and our " batman " came in from the little cookhouse in the dug-out across the trench, bearing a large tin plate of beautiful fried eggs and bacon and some prunes. This, with the addition of a little coffee, was the excellent meal we were just about to taste when — crash ! Hell was let loose. Shells of all sizes came hurtling through the air, raining in on us from all sides. We slipped on our steel helmets, left that lovely breakfast and rushed outside to see how serious the show might be. We had suffered heavy bombardments before but we at once saw that this was the biggest we had ever been in. Harvey Cockshutt, always thinking of the men, issued the order to take every one into the front line, where he decided the bombardment was not quite so heavy. In a few seconds every man was lining the fire trench. The shells continued to rain in on us from every direction. The Boches, as we found out later, had turned every gun around the Ypres salient on the frontage occupied by the 3rd Canadian Division. We received almost as many shells from the rear flanks, as we did from the front. These, of course, we could not alwavs see coming, but wherever we looked towards the German lines we could see " Minnies " rolling over and over in the air on their way to greet us. These were quite easy to dodge when they came one at a time. All you had to do was to watch where they were going to light and dodge around the traverse into the next bay. You might be knocked down or even buried, but the effect of the explosion of a " Minnie " is very local although it makes an awful mess of your trench.

We had the men distributed evenly along the front line. In addition to the sentry on duty at the periscope in almost every bay, we posted further sentries gazing up to the front and right and left watching for " Minnies." They gave no alarm unless there was going to be a direct hit in their own bay, when everyone was warned and dashed around the traverse. Unfortunately, owing to the fact that they were coming so thick, many a man dashed around the traverse to escape the explosion of one Minnenwerfer and ran directly into that of another.

By 10 o'clock the bombardment had been so effective that our front line was practically destroyed and a large portion of our men were wiped out. Harvey Cockshutt sent for me and told me to take about half of the men who were left — amounting to some twenty — to the support trench on our left. We could not move along the front line so we jumped up on the parados and made a dash for it overland. We gained the trench, without a casualty, but found that it, too, was in a sad state. We were moving along to the left when suddenly a large shell or " Minnie,' ' I don't know which, landed right in the middle of my little party and wiped them all out with the exception of four others and myself in the front, and perhaps one or two in the rear whom I never saw again.

We five moved along a short distance till we found a short angle in the trench which had somehow or other escaped the attention of the German artillery. Here I collected a few men from " C " Company which was on our left, until eventually we numbered about ten. Had we been spared until the attack came off, the ten of us would probably have succeeded in pumping a considerable amount of lead into the advancing Huns.

By this time we had begun to realise that this was no casual " strafe " but the preparation for an attack. A German aeroplane, flying very low, noticed this little bit of undestroyed trench. We feigned death. Any man who made a move was properly cursed, as our only hope of being unmolested was that this air-man should think we were already dead. However, he decided to take no chances, and directed the fire of what seemed to us like about forty batteries, as well as several Minnenwerfers, on to our one little bit of trench. At one moment I looked up and saw three " Minnies " coming down directly on top of us. We all kissed ourselves good-bye, and hoped for the best, but none of them made a direct hit. One of the three landed in the interior angle, and the other two on the exterior faces of the angle made by the bend in the trench, and all exploded simultaneously. Everyone who had not already been wounded, with the exception of a stretcher-bearer named Barclay and myself, got it then. We were all half buried, but we managed to crawl out.

Barclay and I put field dressings on the wounded men and I gave morphia tablets — which all the officers carried — to those who were in great pain. There were only three besides myself who could move, and I decided to act as Mr. Cockshutt would have wished under the circumstances, and take these men to a shell-proof trench in Mount Sorrel which was commonly known as the Tunnel. We had been given orders that in case of a heavy bombardment, this was where we were to take our men. In order to get there we had to go down a short communication trench known as Canada Street, but we had not gone more than a few yards before we discovered that Canada Street existed no longer. We crawled overland, following the line of the trench by the bits of " A " frame and revetting material which were protruding from the earth. We soon came to the German barrage, which extended all the way along our frontage just in the rear of the trenches, and prevented any possibility of reinforcements reaching us. We saw that it was hopeless to get through this at the time, and decided to lie there until the barrage might lessen sufficiently to enable us to make a dash for it. I particularly wanted to reach the Tunnel, as it was there that battalion headquarters were located, and it was necessary to report that our trenches were destroyed and that there were no men left to defend the position when the attack should come. As we lay there we were soon located by a German machine gunner who ripped off two or three belts at us. We were in full view with practically no cover; the bullets cracked all around us and the dirt flew in our faces. We had been under fire many a time before and had often felt afraid. According to the old saying, any man who says he is not afraid under fire is either a fool or a liar. But none of us had ever experienced anything so terrific as this. We knew we were going to be killed, and we had got to the stage where it did not seem to matter whether we got it then, or a few minutes later. I believe it was this feeling that had rendered all the men so cool and collected and I was surprised to see, during that morning, that some of the new men who were under fire for the first time were just as cool as those who were old hands at the game. Of course, they had the advantage of not knowing how dangerous a shell might be, whereas the others had seen so many of their friends " Go West " that they could appreciate the danger more fully.

I don't know positively, but I believe that the machine gunner got two of the men that were with me — they were only a short distance away and I never saw them rise from the ground when the bombardment was over. As we lay there, hoping the Boche machine gunner was not a very good shot, we distracted ourselves by watching the "Crumps" (large high explosive shells) light around us. These you can often see during the last hundred feet of their flight. They are travelling so fast that they have the appearance of being very much shorter than they really are, although! their diameter does not appear altered. It was"

fascinating to watch them shooting in at all angles, and to see the dirt and bits of trench fly in the air as the terrific explosion came.

Suddenly, about one o'clock, we were aware of the fact that the bombardment had ceased. At first we did not know what had happened. Our own artillery had also ceased fire. It was still as the tomb of death. There was not even the crack of a rifle to break the silence. It was all so strange, after the terrific row that had been going on all morning, that we did not know whether we were alive or dead. I actually did believe for a minute that I had gone to heaven, and that that was the reason there was no noise. I probably flattered myself regarding my future destination but that was the feeling I had.

My conjectures on this subject were rudely dispelled by the most peculiar sensation I had ever experienced. The ground had started to sway from side to side like a ship on a rough sea. It was not a jerky motion but a gentle, slow movement, and the ground we were lying on rose, what seemed to me, about ten or fifteen feet. Up till this moment there had been no noise. I looked around and exclaimed : " My God, Barclay, there goes a mine."

Precisely at that instant there was the most deafening roar I had ever heard. Just under the place where we had left those badly wounded men a huge mine went up. We could clearly see the stumps of trees, bits of trench and parts of what had once been soldiers, soaring upwards to a tremendous height. The air was filled with such a mass of earth that for a few moments it was almost as dark as night. Gradually the ground we were lying on settled down, and a deluge of stones, timber and earth fell around us. I looked up and saw a large piece of timber coming down, which seemed to have picked me out as a good soft spot on which to land. It was no use trying to dodge it. I had not time; but even if I had, one spot seemed about as good as another. With a terrific thud it struck me on my steel helmet, which undoubtedly saved my life.