the tortured trenches. When the guns were turned upon
the parapets and a perfect deluge of bullets would rip through the
sandbags and send the clay clattering down the osiers of the hurdles
and willow gabions, there would come no response from the Canadian
trenches, not a shot would be fired. Plucking up courage the Huns,
with much hesitation, would emerge from their "funk holes," as our
men called their trenches, port arms and start across the "devil's
strip," hoping that the whirlwind of shells had despatched the last of
the "white devils" from Canada. But no! They would only make about ten
yards when the "warning whistles" of the dauntless Canadians would
sound, and then the roar of rapid fire would rise. It was not for idle
pastime our men had practised night and day with dummy cartridges
going through the motions of loading and firing. The attacking lines
would fall in whole sections, in many cases one bullet killing two or
three men. The rifle fire of the Canadian marksmen was exceedingly
deadly. Every bullet found a billet. Groans and cries from the dying
and wounded Germans would reach us. We could hear distinctly the
hoarse shouts of their officers as they ordered "Vorwarts, Vorwarts,
Schneller," while the poor unfortunate privates dismayed by the deadly
blast would groan "nein, nein." Then we would hear "Wir sollen Ihr
lehren Ihre Canadian Schwein! Uns Neuve Chapelle, zu sagen." "We'll
teach you Canadian swine to boast about Neuve Chapelle."

Then like one man they would turn and dash madly back to their
parapets, leaving the trampled clay of the devil's strip heaped with
writhing figures of wounded and dead.

Again and again we scanned the fields in the direction of Fortuyn to
see if help was coming. If this process of attrition continued much
longer there would be no front line. Meanwhile the German guns
searched every foot of ground behind the crest of the Gravenstafel
ridge. Every inch of ground that could afford a particle of
protection, or was not quite visible, was torn to pieces with their
"hi-ex" shells.

"Why are they throwing away so much good ammunition?" my men would ask
me.

I knew but did not say anything. On account of the brave way in which
our forward lines were fighting, the Germans fancied we had thousands
of men in support. If they only knew they could have steam-rollered
us. It is part of the game of war to impose on the enemy and we were
carrying out that tradition. It was the bigge