CHAPTER VIII
THE 26TH "MOPS UP"
AFTER Jim Hammond went away from Beaver Dam he wrote to Mrs. Starkleyfrom Toronto, saying that he had enlisted in a new infantry battalionand that all was well with him. That was the last news from him, or ofhim, to be received at Beaver Dam for many months.
The war held and crushed and sweated on the western front. Every dayfound the Canadians in the grinding and perilous toil of it. In April,1916, the Second Canadian Division held the ground about St. Eloiagainst terrific onslaughts. Then and there were fought those desperateactions known as the Battles of the Craters. Hiram Sill, D. C. M., now asergeant, received a wound that put him out of action for nearly twomonths. Dick Starkley was buried twice, once beneath the lip of one ofthe craters as it returned to earth after a jump into the air, and againin his dugout. No bones were broken, but he had to rest for three days.
Other Canadian divisions moved into the Ypres salient in April--back totheir first field of glory of the year before. That salient of terriblefame, advanced round the battered city of Ypres like a blunt spearheaddriven into the enemy's positions, will live for centuries after itstrenches are leveled. British soldiers have fallen in their tens ofthousands in and beyond and on the flanks of that city of destruction.From three sides the German guns flailed it through four desperateyears. Masses of German infantry surged up and broke against its tornedges, German gas drenched it, liquid fire scorched it, and minesblasted it. Now and again the edge of that salient was bent inward alittle for a day or a week; but in those four years no German set footin that city of heroic ruins except as a prisoner.
The 26th Battalion celebrated Dominion Day--July 1st--by raiding aconvenient point of the German front line. The assault was made by aparty of twenty-five "other ranks" commanded by two junior officers. Itwas supported by the fire of our heavy field guns and heavy and mediumtrench mortars.
Sergts. Frank Sacobie and Hiram Sill were of the party, but DickStarkley was not. Dick could not be spared for it from his duties withhis platoon, for he was in acting command during the enforced absence ofLieut. Smith, who was suffering at a base hospital from a combination ofgas and fever. The men from New Brunswick were observed by the garrisonof the threatened trench while they were still on the wrong side of theinner line of hostile wire, and a heavy but wild fire was opened on themwith rifles and machine guns. But the raiders did not pause. They passedthrough the last entanglement, entered the trench, killed a number ofthe enemy and collected considerable material for identification. Theircasualties were few, and no wound was of a serious nature. Hiram Sillwas dizzy and bleeding freely, but cheerful. One small fragment of abomb had cut open his right cheek, and another had nicked his leftshoulder. Sacobie carried him home on his back.
It was a little affair, remarkable only as a new way of celebratingDominion Day, and differed only in minor details from hundreds of otherlittle bursts of aggressive activity on that front.
Later in the month a Distinguished Service Order, two Military Crosses,four Distinguished Conduct Medals and five Military Medals were awardedto the battalion in recognition of its work about St. Eloi. DickStarkley and Frank Sacobie each drew a D. C. M. A few days after thatLieut. Smith returned from Blighty and took back the command of hisplatoon from Dick; and at the same time he informed Dick that he wasearmarked for a commission.
The Canadians began their march from the Ypres salient to the Somme onSeptember 1, 1916. They marched cheerfully, glad of a change and hopingfor the best. The weather was fine, and the towns and villages throughwhich they passed seemed to them pleasant places full of friendlypeople. They were going to fight on a new front; and, as becamesoldiers, it was their firm belief that any change would be for thebetter.
On the 8th of September, while on the march, Dick Starkley was gazetteda lieutenant of Canadian Infantry. Mr. Smith found his third star in thesame gazette, and Dick took the platoon. Henry visited the battalion afew days later and presented to the new lieutenant an old uniform thatwould do very well until the London tailors were given a chance. Dickwas a proud soldier that day; and an opportunity of showing his newdignity to the enemy soon occurred. That opportunity was the famousbattle of Courcelette.
From one o'clock of the afternoon of September 14 until four o'clock thenext morning our heavy guns and howitzers belabored with high explosiveshells the fortified sugar refinery and its strong trenches and thevillage of Courcelette beyond. Then for an hour the big guns weresilent. The battalions of the Fourth and Sixth Brigades waited in theirjumping-off trenches before Pozieres. The Fifth Brigade, of which the26th Battalion was a unit, rested in reserve.
Dawn broke with a clear sky and promise of sunshine and a frosty tinglein the air. At six o'clock the eighteen-pounder guns of nine brigades ofartillery, smashing into sudden activity, laid a dense barrage on thenearest rim of the German positions. Four minutes later the barragelifted and jumped forward one hundred yards, and the infantry climbedout of their trenches and followed it into the first German trench. Thefight was on in earnest, and in shell holes, in corners of trenches andagainst improvised barricades many great feats of arms were dared andachieved. A tank led the infantry against the strongly fortified ruinsof the refinery and toppled down everything in its path.
Lieut. Dick Starkley and his friends gave ear all morning to the din ofbattle, wished themselves farther forward in the middle of it andwondered whether the brigades in front would leave anything for them todo on the morrow. Messages of success came back to them from time totime. By eight o'clock, after two hours of fighting, the Canadians hadtaken the formidable trenches, the sugar refinery, a fortified sunkenroad and hundreds of prisoners. The way was open to Courcelette.
"If they don't slow up--if they don't quit altogether this veryminute--they'll be crowding right in to Courcelette and doing us out ofa job!" complained Sergt. Hiram Sill. "That's our job, Courceletteis--our job for to-morrow. They've done what they set out to do, and ifthey go ahead now and try something they haven't planned for, well,they'll maybe bite off more than they can chew. The psychology of itwill be all wrong; their minds aren't made up to that idea."
"I guess the idee ain't the hull thing," remarked a middle-agedcorporal. "Many a good job has been done kind of unexpectedly in thiswar. I reckon this here psychology didn't have much to do with your D.C. M."
"That's where you're dead wrong, Henry," said Hiram. "I knew I'd get aD. C. M. all along, from the first minute I ever set foot in a trench.My mind and my spirit were all made up for it. I knew I'd get a D. C. M.just as sure as I know now that I'll get a bar to it--if I don't go westfirst."
Dick, who had joined the group, laughed and smote Hiram on the shoulder.
"You're dead right!" he exclaimed. "Old Psychology, you're a wonder ofthe age! Be careful what you make up your heart and soul and mind tonext or you'll find yourself in command of the division."
"What do you mean, lieutenant?" asked Sill.
"You've been awarded the D. C. M. again, that's all!" cried Dick,shaking him violently by the hand. "You've got your bar, Old Psychology!Word of it just came through from the Brigade."
Sergt. Sill blushed and grew pale and blushed again.
"Say, boys, I'm a proud man," he said. "There are some things you can'tget used to--and being decorated for distinguished conduct on the fieldof glory is one of them, I guess. If you'll excuse me, boys,--and you,lieutenant,--I'll just wander along that old trench a piece and think itover by myself."
The way was open to Courcelette. The battalions that had done the workin a few hours and that, despite a terrific fire from the enemy, hadestablished themselves beyond their final objective, were anxious tocontinue about this business without pause and clean up the stronglygarrisoned town. They had fought desperately in those few hours,however, and the enemy's fire had taken toll of them, and so they weretold to sit tight in their new trenches; but the common sense of theirassertion that Courcelette itself should
be assaulted without loss oftime, before the beaten and astounded enemy could recover, was admitted.
At half past three o'clock that afternoon the Fifth Brigade received itsorders and instructions and immediately passed them on and elaboratedthem to the battalions concerned. By five o'clock the three battalionsthat were to make the attack were on their way across the open country,advancing in waves. German guns battered them but did not break theiralignment. They reached our new trenches and, with the barrage of ourown guns now moving before them, passed through and over the victorioussurvivors of the morning's battle.
The French Canadians and the Nova Scotians went first in two waves.
Dick Starkley and his platoon were on the right of the front line of the26th, which was the third wave of attack. "Mopping up" was thebattalion's particular job on this occasion.
"Mopping up," like most military terms, means considerably more than itsuggests to the ear. The mops are rifles, bombs and bayonets; the thingsto be mopped are machine-gun posts still in active operation, bays andsections of trenches still occupied by aggressive Germans, mined cellarsand garrisoned dugouts. Everything of a menacing nature that theassaulting waves have passed over or outflanked without demolishing mustbe dealt with by the "moppers-up."
The two lines of the 26th advanced at an easy walk; there was about fiveyards between man and man. Each man carried water and rations forforty-eight hours and five empty sandbags, over and above his arms andkit. The men kept their alignment all the way up to the edge of thevillage. Now and again they closed on the center or extended to right orleft to fill a gap. Wounded men crawled into shell holes or were pickedup and carried forward. Dead men lay sprawled beneath their equipment,with their rifles and bayonets out thrust toward Courcelette even indeath. The "walking wounded" continued to go forward, some unconsciousor unmindful of their injuries and others trying to bandage themselvesas they walked.
Col. MacKenzie led them, and beside him walked a company commander. Thetwo shouted to each other above the din of battle, and sometimes theyturned and shouted back to their men. Other officers walked a few pacesin front of their men.
A bursting shell threw Dick backward into a small crater that had beenmade earlier in the day and knocked the breath out of him for a fewseconds. Frank Sacobie picked him up. The colonel gave the signal todouble, and the right flank of the 26th broke from a walk into a slowand heavy jog. Sacobie jogged beside Dick.
"Just a year since we came into the line!" shouted Dick.
"We were pa'tridge shootin' two years ago to-day!" bawled Sacobie.
The colonel turned with his back to Courcelette and his face to his menand yelled at them to come on. "Speed up on the right!" he shouted. "Theleft is ahead. The 25th is in already. Shake a leg, boys. If they don'tmove quick enough in front, blow right through 'em."
At the near edge of the village a number of New Brunswickers, includingtheir colonel, overtook and mingled with the second line of the 22d. Ourbarrage was lifted clear of Courcelette by this time and set like aspouting wall of fire and earth along the far side of it; but the shellsof the enemy continued to pitch into it, heaving bricks and rafters andthe soil of little gardens into the vibrating twilight. Machine gunsstreamed their fire upon the invaders from attics and cellars andsand-bagged windows. The bombs and rifles of the 22d smashed and crackedjust ahead; and on the left, still farther ahead, crashes and bangs andshouts told all who could hear the whereabouts of Hilliam and his ladsfrom Nova Scotia.
Dick Starkley saw a darting flicker of fire from the butt of a brokenchimney beyond a cellar full of bricks and splintered timber. He shoutedto his men, let his pistol swing from its lanyard and threw a bomb.Then, stooping low, he dashed at the jumble of ruins in the cellar. Hesaw his bomb burst beside the stump of chimney. The machine gunflickered again, and _spat-spat-spat_ came quicker than thought. Otherbombs smashed in front of him, to right and left of the chimney. He gothis right foot entangled in what had once been a baby's crib.
There he was, staggering on the very summit of that low mound ofrubbish, fairly in line with the aim of the machine gun. Somethingseized him by some part of his equipment and jerked him backward. He liton his back and slid a yard, then beheld the face of Hiram Sill staringdown at him.
"Hit?" asked Hiram.
"Don't think so. No."
"It's a wonder."
Five men from Dick's platoon joined them in the ruins. Together theythrew seven grenades. The hidden gun ceased fire. Dick scrambled up andover the rubbish and around what was left of the shattered chimney thatmasked the machine-gun post. In the dim light he saw sprawled shapes andcrouching shapes, and one stooped over the machine gun, working swiftlyto clear it again for action. Dick pistoled the gunner. The threesurvivors of that crew put up their hands. Sergt. Sill disarmed them andtold them to "beat it" back to the Canadian lines. Fifty yards on theyfound Sacobie and two privates counting prisoners at the mouth of adugout.
"Twenty-nine without a scratch," said Sacobie.
"Find stretchers for them and send them back with our wounded, underescort," said Dick. "Put a corporal in charge. Is there a corporalhere?"
"I'm here, sir."
"You, Judd? Take them back with as many of our wounded as they cancarry. Two men with you should be escort enough. Hand over the woundedand fetch up any grenades and ammunition you can get hold of."
Capt. Smith staggered up to Dick.
"We are through and out the other side!" he gasped. "Get as many of ourfellows as you can collect quick to stiffen this flank. Dig in beyondthe houses--in line with the 25th. The colonel is up there somewhere."
He swayed and stumbled against the platoon commander. Dick supported himwith an arm.
"Hit?" asked Dick.
"Just what you'd notice," said the captain, straightening himself andreeling away.
"Go after him and do what you can for him," said Dick to one of his men."Bandage him and then go look for an M. O."
Dick hurried on toward the forward edge of the village, strengtheninghis following as he went. The shelling was still heavy and the noisedeafening, but the hand-to-hand fighting among the houses had lessened.Dick led his men through one wall of a house that had been hit by aheavy shell and through the other wall into a little garden. There werebricks and tiles and iron shards in that garden; and in the middle ofit, untouched, a little arbor of grapevines. Dick passed through thearbor on his way to the broken wall at the foot of the garden. Therewere two benches in it and a small round table.
Dick went through the arbor in a second, and then he sprang to thebroken crest of the wall. He had scarcely mounted upon it beforesomething red burst close in front of his eyes.
* * * * *
Dick was not astonished to find himself in the old garden at Beaver Dam.The lilacs were in flower and full of bees and butterflies. He stillwore his shrapnel helmet. It felt very uncomfortable, and he tried totake it off--but it stuck fast to his head. Even that did not astonishhim. He saw an arbor of grapevines and entered it and sat down on abench with his elbows on a small round table. He recognized it as thearbor he had seen that evening in Courcelette--the evening of September15.
"I must have brought it home with me," he reflected. "The war must beover."
Flora entered the arbor then and asked him why he was wearing anofficer's jacket. He thought it queer that she had not heard about hiscommission.
"I was promoted on the Somme--no, it was before that," he began, andthen everything became dark. "I can't see," he said.
"Don't worry about that," replied a voice that was not Flora's. "Youreyes are bandaged for the time being. They'll be as well as ever in afew days."
"I must have been dreaming. Where am I--and what is wrong with me?"
"You are in No. 2 Canadian General Hospital and have been dreaming foralmost a week. But you are doing very well."
"What hit me? And have I all my legs and arms?"
"It must have been a whiz-bang," replie
d the unknown voice. "You aresuffering from head wounds that are not so serious as we feared and frombroken ribs and a few cuts and gashes. You must drink this and stoptalking."
Dick obediently drank it, whatever it was.
"I wish you could give me some news of the battalion, and then I'd keepquiet for a long time," he said.
"Do you want me to open and read this letter that your brother left foryou two days ago?" asked the Sister.
She read as follows:
"Dear Dick. As your temperature is up and you refuse to know me I amleaving this note for you with the charming Sister who seems to be yourC. O. just now. She tells me that you will be as fit as a fiddle in amonth or so. Accept my congratulations on your escape and on the battleof Courcelette. I have written to Beaver Dam about it and cabled thatyou will live to fight again. Frank Sacobie and that psychologicalsergeant with a D. C. M. and bar are booked for Blighty, to polish upfor their commissions. I called on them after the fight. They arewell--but I can't say that they escaped without a scratch, for they bothlooked as if they had been mixing it up with a bunch of wildcats.Sacobie has a black eye and doesn't know who or what hit him.
"Do you remember Jim Hammond? He came over to a battalion of thisdivision with a draft from England about four months ago. He looked meup one day last week and told me a mighty queer story about himself. Iwon't try to repeat it, for I am sure he'll tell it to you himself atthe first opportunity. He is making good, as far as I can see and hear.Pat Hammond has a job in London now. He was badly gassed about a monthago. I will get another day's special leave as soon as possible and payyou another visit.
"Your affectionate brother, Henry Starkley."