The Last Lady from Hell (47 page)

VIMY RIDGE

T
he next several months were relatively quiet in our sector. To the south, the Somme raged on until November and then fizzled out leaving the western front line essentially unchanged except for the addition of the seventy thousand men unaccounted for who were probably now part of the landscape. In all the activity between Somme and Verdun it seemed that both sides had forgotten about Arras and Vimy Ridge, and that was just fine with us.

We were assigned to the Third Canadian Division, Argyle and Sutherland battalion and were settling in very well. We were regularly giving concerts in the courtyard of the Cathedral Arras and, other than the trench raiding parties, the hostilities were light. This was all about to change.

It started with the arrival of the royal engineer corps. They went right to work cutting into the chalk sub strata carving out tunnels that would lead to multiple mines under enemy territory. Then all four Canadian divisions slowly began to arrive.

The Royal Air Corps began numerous flights over Vimy Ridge for reconnaissance. Twenty five squadrons with a total of three hundred sixty-five aeroplanes were employed to survey the enemy. To counter the build-up of British aircraft, the Germans called on the well-equipped and highly experienced Jasta 11, the Royal Prussian Fighter
Squadron, led by none other than “The Red Baron,” Manfred von Richthofen himself. He and his squadron promptly downed over a hundred British aircraft in a little over one week.

It was starting to look like we were about to undertake another major assault, only this one seemed to be primarily Canadian and far better planned.

In January 1917 Lieutenant-General Sir Julian Byng took command of the Canadian forces and began formulating a strategy for the assault on Vimy Ridge. The plan was to involve the four Canadian Divisions and the British 5th Infantry division for a total of one hundred seventy thousand men, of which ninety-seven thousand were Canadian. There had been some costly but, very valuable lessons learned from the battles Somme and Verdun and this command was not about to make the same mistakes.

The plan was simply. First, place and detonate mines in such a way as to create a huge trench across No Man’s Land providing shelter and cover for the advancing troops.

Next, four hundred British eighteen-pound field cannons would lay down a creeping barrage to clear the path for the infantry. The troops would advance in a leap frog manner every hundred yards the first wave would dig in and the second wave would pass them advancing another hundred yards. The heavy and medium howitzers were to pound the known points of German defense.

And finally the “Stokes Sticks” would clear out any strong holds with their deadly effectiveness. At just eleven pounds, the Stoke Mortar was a lightweight, portable weapon that could easily move along with the advancing troops and lay down cover or take out machine gun nests. One could fire twenty-five rounds per minute and achieve a range of over twelve hundred yards.

Probably the most important consideration of Lieutenant-General Byng’s plan was the extraordinary amount of communication
cable laid out for field phone and telegraph. He was determined that the total breakdown of communications experienced during the first days of the Somme would not be repeated here on Vimy. Reliable communications are an integral and essential part of effective command.

The troops were being trained over and over again to insure their readiness for the offensive and to secure their success. We, on the other hand, were left mostly to our own recognizance. We all realized that this was indeed going to be a well-orchestrated event.

The date chosen for the assault was 9 April – Easter Sunday – but the French requested that we postpone the operation by one day to 10 April in respect for the holy day. Our command agreed and the new date was set.

Excitement was in the air and we were caught up in it. It had been almost nine months since the Somme and, although we still missed Sean – and all those we lost in that battle – the anticipation of the upcoming campaign was almost intoxicating.

There is an inexplicable feeling about being a part of something that is so much larger than you are. We had no illusions about war now, and we had seen its outcome. Given the choice to stay and fight or leave, most of us would have chosen to stay. I believe we felt obligated to our dead comrades to carry through to the end.

Two weeks prior to the date of the assault the artillery began to shell the enemy strongholds. We had seen this same artillery attack at the Somme, but in this case the strategy would be to increase and then decrease the intensity of the barrages in an attempt to confuse the enemy. It would be two weeks of hell for the Germans because
they’d expect an attack every time the artillery slacked off, only to be pounded again in earnest shortly thereafter.

Because of the intensity of the artillery attack the German command kept their reserve troops well away from the front by some twenty miles. Consequently, they ran short of supplies and fresh troops and by 9 April those on the front were hungry, demoralized and mentally broken.

In the early morning hours of the tenth, the first waves took up position in the advanced trenches. At 05:30 all hell broke loose. The land mines blew up in unison and the artillery began to lay down a walking barrage a hundred yards ahead of us.

The whistles blew. We played the pipes and our troops charged forward. The forward movement of the men had to be halted periodically so as not to run into the creeping barrage.

Compared with the Somme, Vimy Ridge had a remarkable first day, with minimal losses and all objectives met. The whole battle lasted only three days with fewer than four thousand Canadians lost and many more German prisoners taken.

PART NINE

GOING HOME

Guelph Veterans Home. Present Day

M
r. Macdonald abruptly stopped his story and reflected on where he was in his recollection. Mike and I sat leaning forward and impatiently waited for him to give us more of his remarkable tale, but he seemed to have somehow lost his train of thought.

Perhaps this was the time for some insightful interviewer-type questions, I thought.

“So, Mr. Macdonald, where did you and your fellow pipers go from there?” Not the most prying question, but it seemed like a natural one.

“From where?” he asked, somewhat confused. I looked at Mike then back at the old man.

“Well, from Vimy Ridge, sir,” I gently reminded him. After all at 109 years old, you’re entitled to lose your train of thought every once in a while.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “Forgive me, sometimes I am forgetful. We went back to Arras after five days and remained there for two more months.”

He stopped. The reliving of these terrible events was taking its toll, he was emotionally exhausted. “Boys,” he said, “I think I need to rest, may we resume this tomorrow?”

“Of course,” I said. “We’ve taken up a great deal of your time and we appreciate your valuable insights.” Under other circumstances that might have sounded patronizing, but I really meant it.

I needed to get home anyway. It was already two in the afternoon and the family Thanksgiving dinner began around four. I asked Mr. Macdonald if he would join the gathering, and after a little coaxing, he agreed. He then retired to his room for a little rest.

A little bit before four o’clock, I returned to the Veterans home to pick him up. He was standing at the front desk dressed in his best suit and leaning on a walking cane. I helped him into my parent’s minivan, a far better choice of vehicles than my Datsun for such an occasion and we headed to my parents’ house.

He was obviously looking forward to escaping his depressing surroundings. I thought about the man’s age again, he must have outlived all his friends and most, if not all, of his family – a curse of longevity.

He was very talkative, obviously the nap had revived him and the invitation had invigorated him. My folks were great–they realized that having this gentleman join us was quite an honor and they welcomed him warmly.

Before dinner we sat around the living room talking, and our guest was nursing his glass of wine. You could tell that he was savoring every sip. I don’t believe the veteran’s home serves any alcohol.

His face became mildly flushed as he began to speak of his experiences again. He spoke in broad generalities this time, not as graphic or detailed as before. I assumed this was because of our mixed company – very old school. Mr. Macdonald did speak of his reunion with his brother Alan.

“We were on a several day leave when we ran into George Cohen. He had been permanently assigned to the Medical Corp. It seemed a sensible move – very uncustomary of the B.E.F.

George said he had gone to the 5th Canadian Stationary Hospital and had run into Dan McKee and a nice nurse we might know named Sheila Lougheed. We were overjoyed at the news. He slyly kept the real news until last.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “There’s one more bit of news you might find interesting, they have a patient that has been recovering for quite a while from head injuries. His name is Alan Macdonald – any relation?”

We looked at each other open-mouthed and unbelieving.