Letters From the Front

Dated:

May 17^th, 1915

We are down at a resting place, taking a few days off, after a rather strenuous time we had during the past few weeks. I suppose the papers have given you a pretty good account of the fighting north of Ypres, but I suppose you would like to hear the story from an artillery driver's point of view.

Well to begin with, our battery had taken up a position a mile or two north of the village of St. Jean, just outside of Ypres. Everything went smoothly for a week or so, and we were just getting ready to leave that position and go reserve a little below Ypres. On the night we were about to leave, April 22 nd, there suddenly broke out a furious artillery duel, and shells of all sizes and descriptions began to fall around. We rushed to our horses, harnessed up on the double and tore up the road at a dead gallop to the guns. The order came to change our position at once for one on our left flank, as the enemy had broken through and were advancing there. Although we were half blinded and choked up with gases, which the enemy had let loose, we managed to get our guns and ammunition wagons out, and away we went, on the dead tear up the road. In the meantime, the enemy had advanced to within a few yards of the road and with the aid of star shells they made us out quite clearly. We were in for it; they with machine guns and rifles let loose at us, and as we tore along we could hear above the roar of the guns and the rattle and din of galloping horses the ping-ping! Whiz-whiz of bullets that were coming uncomfortably close to our ears. For two miles we looked straight ahead and let her go, and when we finally reached cover, incredible to relate, we had only lost one man and two horses, although there were two holes in the back of my lumber and a gunner sitting directly behind had his haversack punctured. We found the bullet sticking in the handle of his razor strop. Well we switched off into a field and got stuck in a ditch for an hour or so. Two of our guns, however got out shortly and went into action at once, while we labored for an hour getting out of the ditch. We just got out when the order came, Go back to your former position! Whew!

Well, we did't say anything, but thought a lot. Up we went back over the same old road at a gallop, now and again running over a dead horse, and sometimes, I regret to say, a dead man. The enemy, however, much to our relief were not so gay with their rifles and machine guns this time, although the bullets sang little tune pretty close to one's ears. We came thru all right, and just at dawn we put our last gun into position and got our horses under cover. Being pretty well spent we flopped down anywhere and slept for 5 hours. We then arose and fed and watered our horses, sneaking down behind hedges to a little brook with our canvas pails.

The shells were bursting around, but they didn't get our range very well that day and the firing diminished to only an occasional shot in the evening. Altho we had had nothing to eat that day, we didn't allow our hunger to keep us awake, but crawled up into a loft and went to sleep. We were suddenly awakened at 4 a.m. by the roar of artillery. We turned out at once for the battle was on again. Our guns plugged away, and the shells came over, and the drivers rushed to and from the guns, carrying ammunition. Bringing up ammunition, by the way, is no cinch, and is considered one of the most risky performances connected with artillery, as the Germans have all the roads down cold, and to venture along them at any time is sure to give you an exciting ride through a rain of shells. Many a horse and driver has met his fate while doing this duty. When not carrying up ammunition we were all standing to, within a few yards of the guns, ready to hook in and pull out at a moments notice. During the afternoon the firing became much heavier, and straggling soldiers of all nationalities streaming along, Algerians, Ghurkas, Tommies, Frenchmen and Canadian. I tell you, it's not very encouraging to see your infantry retiring, knowing that the trenches are all that stand between you and capture or death. Suddenly the order came down “Switch your guns around and fire point blank!” Out we yanked them in a jiffy, that is, two of them, the other two we simply swung at a different angle, and looking through field glasses we observed the German infantry advancing at the double over open country. “Rapid fire!” came the order, and away we went with our gun, bang, bang, bang, bang! four of them as fast as we could load. Our range was perfect at 900 yards. The Germans dropped right and left, the line wavered and a battalion of our infantry, charging with fixed bayonets, chasing them back, much to our pleasure and relief. About that time a shell came over and blew one of our horses all to pieces, not ten feet from me. The reason for the shell not doing more damage being that it exploded inside, and thus most of the lead and iron was confined to a small area. Of course, if it had been a heavy shell , it would have cleaned us all up, as we were bunched together pretty closely. It was then getting dark, and I volunteered to watch our teams while the centre driver went up into the loft to snatch a little sleep, in the barn, behind which we were hiding. He had barely got upstairs when whiz-bang! a shell went right into the loft, setting the place afire, and incidentally sending the driver down the stairs without touching a step. A lucky escape, I say. Of course, the Germans saw the blaze and pumped shells in thick, and I tell you it did not take long to get mounted and beat out of there, taking the guns with us. After an hour or two's travel, we again took up a position, much closer to Ypres, and about 500 yards south-west of St. Jean. We were there about an hour when a German Taute (airship) came over us and gave our position away. A quarter of an hour later four coat boxes (big shells) came right on top of us, putting one gun out of action, and blowing three of our men to bits, also wounding 3 more. All that day, and for the next week, we were shelled continuously, and most of us had a number of narrow escapes. As an instance, I was digging a hole in the ground to lie in, so as to have a little cover. I hear a whiz! Down I went on my stomach, and bank! Six horses that were standing 5 feet in front of me were killed on the spot. It was a narrow escape, although I had to wash some mud off my face. I don't mind that, so long as they don't hit me with anything harder.

Well we stuck around there for a while, but that night we were attacked again and nearly suffocated with gases. However we managed to elude the shells, at least most of us; there were 10 or 12 wounded, and after my horse stumbling head over heals in a shell hole, and had dragged me and eventually thrown me under the wheels, I managed to get out with a few bruises. After tearing through fields and over ditches, under constant shell fire, we got away safely. After a few days of similar experience, we earned the rest that we are now enjoying.

There were many little incidents that might be interesting, but I have not the time or paper to continue.

I must say, that it is a miracle that so many of us escaped, and we can only thank God for it.