Next day we learned that Charlie had died and was buried down at Bailleul. He was the first one we had killed out of the Machine Gun Section and was one of the most popular men we had. All hands felt very much depressed at his death and I got a permit and went down to Bailleul to see that he had been properly buried. Within five minutes the Graves Registration Commission had me alongside his grave.
I want to add a little more to this personal history of Charlie Wendt. His name would seem to indicate that either himself or his forbears came from some place over the Rhine. That may be true. His next of kin lived, at that time, at Niagara Falls, Ontario. For Charlie, himself, I can only say that no man ever showed more sincere loyalty to King and Country than he. He inscribed a large Maple Leaf in our quarters at Captain’s Post. He must have been an artist or, at least, a stone mason with artistic tendencies. He chiseled that token in the stone and bricks of that wall – and I wish I could have it now, in my own house: for, of all the names inscribed thereon, mine is the only one of a living person.
I came back from the visit to Charlie’s grave and began to plan ways and means of “getting” those ten Germans I had promised him. Up to that time I had been taking the war as a sort of a lark. Keenly interested as I was in every phase of warfare, I was really enjoying the experience. Now, the matter had become personal. My particular gun crew was made up entirely of youngsters; some of them had enlisted at sixteen and not one of them was of voting age. And now they had killed one of them. It was fair enough, this shooting of Charlie. We had elected to go out overland, rather than take a long, roundabout course where we would have had the protection of trenches, and he had been hit. Fair enough. But that did not prevent me from going out to collect a few scalps to, as the Indians say, “cover his grave.” So, although we were going back to the reserve line for a week, I had no difficulty in getting permission to stay up there and go to work on them. As a matter of fact, I was allowed to do just about as I liked in those days.
And just about that time, actually it happened on the 27th of the month, this same sniper – at any rate I took it to be the same – shot down several of our unarmed stretcher bearers. At this time, our ration parties had been going out before daylight, as we could not use the communication trench and they had to cross the open and exposed ground behind our line. This morning, the two men who comprised the ration party, Dupuis and Lanning, were a bit late, so it was light when they got started. About fifty yards to our rear was a bend in the road called Devil’s Elbow and from this point on they were in plain sight of the Germans. As soon as they reached this bend, the sniper fired and shot Lanning through the lungs. Dupuis got down to assist him and was then shot through the head, being instantly killed. So far, all right, these fellows had taken their chance and lost.
But some stretcher bearers from our pipe band were only a few yards away and as the second man went down one of these Scotties rushed out to carry them in. He was instantly shot down, as were the next three who promptly went out to do their duty. Then an officer got there and stopped anyone else from going out; he finally, by crawling down a shallow ditch managed to pull the bodies under cover. Four were dead and two wounded, one of the latter dying a few hours later. Six hits at a range of about one hundred yards, from which distance it was easy to see the broad white brassard of the Red Cross conspicuously displayed on the sleeves of those four bandsmen-stretcher-bearers.
Then and there I made a solemn vow that Charlie Wendt and these men:
“should go to their God in State:
With fifty file of Germans,
to open them Heaven’s gate.”
Chapter 6. Record Scores
DURING the time we had been in training in Canada and England I had never seen a telescope sight or known of any definite attempt to train men in its use. Nor had I known of any school for deliberate sniping. But one day in September I was scouting around in back of our lines opposite Messines Ridge looking for suitable places to install strafing posts for our machine guns, and I ran into a sniping post, manned by an officer and two snipers from the Buffs. This was the first I had known of any attempt on our part at sniping, and being highly interested in anything of that sort I naturally stuck around. I stayed there for a couple of hours, but what I saw being done did not get me any too highly excited over that type of sniping.
These fellows from the Buffs were using the ordinary, short Lee-Enfield rifles, upon which they had mounted telescopes made by “Stanley-London.” These scopes were short, brass tubes, about ten inches long and three-quarters inch diameter; they had a device for changing elevation, but no method of making lateral corrections, and for windage you simply had to hold off. I do not happen to remember the power, but recollect that the field was very limited although visibility was excellent. As they were so far behind our lines, it had not been necessary for them to construct any elaborate shelter nor to exercise any particular care to avoid observation. All they had done was to dig a chamber out of one of the sides of an old disused communication trench and throw a few boughs over the top.
This outfit they were using may have been very good for reasonable ranges, but these chaps were so far in back of the line that it was hopeless for them to think of doing any definite or accurate shooting. The nearest enemy targets were at least eleven or twelve hundred yards away, but they were doing most of their shooting at targets well over on Messines Ridge and I knew the range to these points was about two thousand yards. Now, with a machine gun, it is possible to put a burst on a target or group of men at such ranges and break them up and possibly hit one or two. But my personal experience has been that the firing of single shots, at individual targets, at ranges of more than 1000 yards is just a waste of time and ammunition. I have tried it myself and seen many others try it, but never saw any indications that the target had been hit.
But this sniping outfit from the Buffs was deadly serious in their efforts to damage something over there in “Germany” and I just had to admire their spirit even though their judgment was bad. I talked with the Lieutenant, who had just been transferred from the Territorials, and he told me he had been a competitor at Bisley, and I suppose he was really a good rifle shot; the two enlisted men were also good shots probably. When I told them that I was also a rifleman and had shot at Camp Perry, they invited me to try my hand. They handed me a rifle which they said was already sighted in right and told me to take a crack at something within the German lines about 1200 yards away. They had two very fine spotting scopes and the men watched while I fired. There was no wind at the time so I held right on one of the demolished brick buildings, just to get the hang of the thing, and touched off. The shot brought forth much congratulation and applause from my onlookers, I had actually “hit the side of a house.”
Then I took one of the spotting scopes and observed while the others fired. It was generally possible to pick up the strike of the bullet when they fired at the closest targets, as those brick walls gave out an appreciable “splash” when hit. But none of us were able to pick up any indications as to the location of the long hits fired across the valley. They just shot into space at those ranges. Having become pretty well acquainted with the crowd by this time, I ventured to ask the officer if he thought it was worth while to shoot away at targets located a mile or more off, and he replied they were acting under orders. That was typical of the “Imperials,” just do as you are told and think nothing about it. So I came on away then, and I imagine that outfit hung around there for many more days engaged in such useless work.
I remembered about this sniping post and those “specialists” after Charlie Wendt and the stretcher bearers were killed, and then commenced inquiring around. I soon learned that an authorized school for snipers was being organized and that specially sighted rifles and equipment were available for those who were detailed to and passed through this school. So I went to our Colonel, and after telling him my qualifications as a rifleman obtained a requisition for the regulation “outfit” without the “t
raining.” I convinced them that I already had the latter, and as by this time the German snipers opposite our front were becoming a really serious menace I had no trouble in getting an immediate start towards abating the nuisance.
In order to get this rifle and special sniping equipment, I went, with the permission of Colonel Hughes, back to a newly-organized Sniping School, near the village of LaClytte. There I was issued a Ross rifle – one of the lot made for and used by the members of the Canadian Palma Team at Camp Perry, in 1913.
As all the old timers will remember, that team came near to cleaning up against all comers at Perry, that year. In fact they did a good job of it in the individual Palma – which was won by Major Hart MacHarg who was afterward killed at Langemarck. The only reason they did not also win the team match was that they took a chance and started experimenting with a new bullet which did not stand up so well in the wind.
These Ross rifles were exceptionally accurate and dependable with the Mark VII ammunition we were then using. For short and mid-range work, I am not so sure yet but that they were superior to our Springfield because of the longer barrel and better sights.
With the rifle I got a telescope sight. It was one of the type – new at that time – made by the Warner & Swasey Company. Prismatic and mounted on the left side of the rifle, it might not rate so high now but, at that time, it was better than any other I had ever used. One of the best features was that it could be mounted and used without interfering with the iron sights. I had a little trouble in getting it securely mounted so that it would not jar loose but finally, by using a wedge – made of a piece of safety-razor blade – and salt water, got her on so tight that I came near being court martialled when I finally turned it in. The armourer could not get it off.
I also got a fine spotting ’scope and a tripod for the same. The spotting ’scope was pretty high magnification – about 36-power I believe. Each article – sight, telescope and tripod – had its separate sole-leather carrying case, with convenient straps for slinging them over the shoulder.
Each rifle had been fitted with a particular sight and was thoroughly tried out in Canada before being sent over for issue. I happened to draw rifle No. 140 and sight No. 49. A very few shots fired at the improvized sighting range made me familiar with the scope adjustments and permitted me to check in the scope against the iron sight settings. Now, I have heard a lot of unfavorable comments against this Warner & Swasey sight, in fact, I cannot recall ever hearing a good word spoken for it. However, it is my opinion, that when compared to the others we had at that date and time, it was a pretty good sight. Naturally, it might not compare with the scope sights of today, as much progress has been made in these since the war. The one I used gave very good results, and was fully as accurate and reliable as the Winchester A-5 type. This latter model was particularly hard to keep “lined up.” So, late in November, 1915 I came back from LaClytte with as good and reliable a sniping outfit as was available at that time, and for the next two months I proceeded to “check off” that “fifty file of Germans” which I had mentally promised my dead comrades. I did it and with plenty to spare.
I first picked out my observer, and this is an important half of any sniping team. For reasons which will be given later, I am not much in favor of the “lone” sniper. A man on his own will not do half as well as a properly paired team of two. For my choice, I selected a particular friend, a lad named Bouchard, of whom you will hear much later on in this story. Bouchard was the closest friend I had in the Canadian forces and in addition he possessed the qualifications which made him a good observer. So I picked him to do the observing while I worked the rifle.
We already had available an ideal location for a main sniping post in an old barn located some five hundred yards to the rear of our front line. This place was the farmhouse before mentioned. It had every desired advantage, even to name and precedent. When the British forces first settled down in this spot they found eight dead Germans lying in front of this building, while inside was a dead French soldier, who, they figured out, had accounted for the eight before they got him. So they called the place Sniper’s Barn. My Machine Gun Section had already made some use of this place and we had a position in a small hedge which ran across the old orchard in front of the barn, on the side towards the enemy.
At first glance it may have looked rather foolhardy to place a machine gun post so close to a building which was in plain sight of the German lines and only some five hundred yards off at the nearest point. But I had remembered our experience at our first strafing place down at Messines where we were located about a hundred yards in front of some buildings which the Germans shelled industriously in the belief we were located inside them, with never a shell put anywheres near where we actually were. So I depended upon Heinie to run true to form again, and it worked. We kept both a machine gun and sniping post in front of Sniper’s Barn for almost six months, and while the Germans shot up the barn regularly during all that time, there was never a shell apparently directed at our position, except for an occasional short or two which burst near us. We fixed up a fine little sniper’s nest in that hedge.
Sometimes we would shoot from the hedge but more often from the barn, as it was slightly higher and gave a correspondingly greater command of the country across the way. I soon learned that, while they shelled the place every day, there were a few corners which appeared to be fairly well protected from the fire of the 77 mm whiz-bangs, which seemed to be the only sized guns that were working on that particular target. This was due to the fact that there were two very substantial brick walls dividing the different sections of the building which were almost, but not quite, perpendicular to the line of fire of these guns, and, by getting in close alongside one of these walls, one was fairly safe from a direct hit. We often were splattered with pieces of brick and stone, sometimes caught a few small shell splinters and, one time, by some freak of luck, a shrapnel shell struck an adjoining wall and ricochetted in such a way as to spill the whole charge right on top of us. Fortunately, although the shrapnel bullets cut off two legs of the tripod and one buried itself in the stock of my rifle, neither one of us was actually hit although we both had one or more holes through our caps and tunics. That was before the advent of the tin hat. We were all the time working on new “nests” and, eventually, had six, all well concealed and offering good fields of fire.
Every time we built a new sniping nest, we would immediately proceed to sight in and find the range to all the various prominent objects which could be fired upon in that particular sector of fire. Sometimes, these sectors were decidedly limited and were just as apt to be off to one side as to the front. In fact, it is generally safer to do one’s shooting at an angle to the front lines, as the danger from observation and stray shots is much less. Once a “firing point” was decided upon and arranged, we would determine all the possible ranges by means of trial shots and observation, and then I would proceed to jot all this data down in a little memoranda book I had, just the same as I had done many a time before in my regular score book on the Camp Perry and Sea Girt ranges. Only, at the targets I now fired at, there were no sighters allowed and in general there were no markers unless you happened to catch a target out in the open and could see it fall.
This first sighting-in for ranges was merely to get the approximate distances so we could come close enough to the targets to properly sight in upon any occasion when we again used that particular nest for future sniping. Upon taking up a position for the day in any prepared location, it is always necessary to first fire a few sighting shots at available “self-marking” targets and make certain the scope sight has not moved or become disarranged since last used. You pick out a small pool of water, or a piece of brick or stone upon which the effect of a hit can clearly be seen, and then two or three trial shots will suffice to determine sight settings or correct range. This is where it pays to have both iron and ’scope sights mounted so either may be used independently of the other; many times you can check
the ’scope setting against the iron sights without ever firing a shot. If the range at which you are going to work is close, it will not pay to do much firing to sight in; fact is it is often impossible or inadvisable to do any preliminary firing and you must come prepared to make the first shot hit. But it generally happens that individual rifle shots are continually being let off up and down the line and no close attention will be paid to your few sighters. A word of caution to the novice here may not be amiss; be particular just what you pick out for a target on these sighters. Don’t go firing at any petrol cans, or empty boxes which may be lying around the top of the enemy trenches; they may possibly have been placed there to invite just such shots in order to “sight back” through the bullet holes and locate your position. I shall mention this trick farther along.
We had some wonderful shooting. By sighting in on various water-filled shell holes and bits of brick wall, both with the scope and iron sights, we could shoot in almost any kind of weather. Sometimes it was too foggy to see and sometimes, in the early morning, as we were shooting toward the east it would be almost as bad. (It reminded me of the times when I have been out of luck and caught the early relays at Sea Girt.) But, we managed to do pretty well. We certainly got our hundred – and then some. I have a little memorandum book in which I recorded, day by day, the various shots and, as nearly as we could tell, the results. I had intended to incorporate it, verabatim, in this story but, for various reasons, have decided not to do so. However, here are a few extracts:
A Rifleman Went to War Page 9