Although the Germans were being pushed steadily eastward, they fought a strong rearguard action, with the British and Canadians in close pursuit, as they withdrew to the more heavily built Hermann-Stellung Line—the last German defensive line—which stretched from the Dutch border through Valenciennes to the Oise River, dominating an area criss-crossed by canals which the Germans flooded. When the British Fifty-First Highland Division, with Canadian support, took nearby Mont Houy, the Allies held the high ground overlooking Valenciennes, the last major French city still in enemy hands.
Inevitably, the Canadian Corps was ordered to capture the city, and it faced a German force that was two or three times larger than the single brigade assigned to the task. And even though morale in the German army was understandably very low by now, its leaders had decided to make their final stand here, so the fighting was bound to be fierce even if pointless.
Currie had been ordered to conserve artillery shells in case the war continued into 1919. Typically, he refused, saying that shells were expendable but men’s lives were not. Accordingly, when he told Brigadier General Andrew McNaughton, who commanded the Corps artillery, that this would probably be the last barrage he would fire in the war, McNaughton replied, “Well, by Jove, it will be a good one.”[27] And it was. McNaughton’s 303 guns delivered what he claimed was “the heaviest weight of fire ever to support a single infantry brigade in the whole war.”[28] Even so, the attack on November 1 cost 501 Canadian casualties, including 121 killed or listed as missing. Among them was Lance Corporal Harold Tallis, the fourth of five members of the Tallis family of Borden, Saskatchewan, who had enlisted during the war.[29] Sergeant Hugh Cairns of Saskatoon earned Canada’s last Victoria Cross of the war at Valenciennes. Sadly, he was wounded in the battle and died the next day.
That broke the Hermann-Stellung Line, and the war was effectively over. Germany and the Allies were discussing the terms of an Armistice, the German army was in disarray, and more American troops and equipment were arriving daily. Indeed, their numbers had risen from nine divisions in April 1918 to forty-two divisions by October. On November 6 the Germans were driven out of Elouges, a town almost within sight of Mons, where the first shots of the war had been fired in 1914, and the Canadians entered Belgium on November 7.
Currie was determined to take Mons, but the Germans, for whatever reasons, were equally determined not to give it up without a struggle. The result was that as the Canadians approached and encircled the town, they sustained 645 unnecessary and pointless casualties. Sporadic fighting continued during the night of the 10th/11th, and early on the morning of the 11th, three more Canadians were killed at just about the time—6:30 a.m.—that Currie received the official word that an armistice agreement had been signed and would take effect at 11:00 a.m. At this point the 42nd Battalion was clearing the town, which the Germans had largely if not totally abandoned, and its pipe band marched through the streets of Mons announcing its liberation.
It was not all over yet, however. To the east of the town, there were still pockets of resistance that the Canadians had to clear, at a cost of at least one hundred more casualties. The last was twenty-five-year-old George Price of the 28th Battalion, who was killed just minutes before 11:00 a.m. by a sniper at Ville-sur-Haine, a village nine miles east of Mons. A native of Falmouth, Nova Scotia,[30] who had been living in Moose Jaw, Price was the last Canadian and the last soldier from the British Empire killed in the war, a dubious distinction to be sure. Fittingly, the conscript from the overseas empire was buried in what is now St. Symphorien Cemetery, just a few feet from sixteen-year-old John Parr, the first British soldier to die on the Western Front, who was killed on August 21, 1914.[31]
Ironically, news of the Armistice provoked spontaneous celebrations in towns and cities throughout Canada, as elsewhere in the Allied countries, not unlike those that had cheered the declaration of war in August 1914. The reaction among the men in the field was, as Robert Clements recalled, “strangely different.” The “sudden silence as the fighting ceased seemed to communicate itself to the men.” A “few” got drunk, but there wasn’t much alcohol of any kind readily available other than hidden supplies of wine that were dug up by recently liberated civilians who happily shared them with the Canadians. “The general mood,” however, “was one of relief and quiet thanks for delivery from further battle hazards.”[32]
Leonard McGill’s experience was somewhat different. A law student in Vancouver when he enlisted in 1915, McGill was a lieutenant in the 29th Battalion in 1918. His battalion had spent the morning marching toward Mons and was at Ciply, three miles south of the town, resting at the side of the road as eleven o’clock approached. It was raining and “all were cold and wet, and huddled together getting what protection they could from ground-sheets and trees along the edge of the field.” They had heard the rumors, of course, but many were skeptical, and some worried that, having survived this long, they might be killed in the final minutes of the war. When the Armistice was confirmed—not until noon—“the spell was broken, and pent-up feelings, repressed for months, asserted themselves in cheer after cheer that echoed and re-echoed across the narrow valley.”[33]
Some, but almost certainly not many, may have agreed with the fire-breathing McNaughton, who was furious that the Allies had agreed to an Armistice without conquering Germany. “Bloody fools!” he snorted. “We have them on the run. That means we shall have to do it all over again in another twenty-five years.”[34] And he did, commanding the Canadian army from 1939 to 1944 in the Second World War.
The vast majority of officers and men just wanted to get home as quickly as possible. And that inevitably led to thoughts of the future. Some men, according to Clements, “even experienced a feeling of dread toward return to civilian life.” Despite the danger, army life provided food, clothing, and decent spending money, with no need to make decisions on anything significant, and civilian life offered all kinds of uncertainty. “The truth was that these men were dreadfully tired, almost beyond human endurance.”[35]
Haig’s last communiqué rightly acknowledged that Mons had been captured by the Canadians. But like a scramble for spoils, tension immediately developed between the British and Canadians. Major General Loomis, whose Third Division troops had taken the town, invited Currie to stage a triumphal entry at 11:00 a.m. on the 11th. He was not merely being gracious; he was trying to make a point. A week earlier the mayor of Valenciennes had invited the Canadians to celebrate that city’s liberation, but Sir Henry Horne, who commanded the British First Army of which the Canadian Corps was a part, had intervened to insist, perhaps not entirely unreasonably, that British troops should also be honored, so he took the salute at the march-past.
This was annoying to Currie, who was always sensitive to British slights, but he was even more annoyed when the British troops were given precedence over the Canadians in the parade because the plain fact was that the Canadian Corps had spearheaded the last Allied offensive of the war. Indeed, as John English has rightly observed, “never before or since have Canadian troops played such a crucial and decisive role in land operations.”[36]
At Mons, which was infinitely more important symbolically than Valenciennes, it was a Canadian show with only token British participation. Currie rode into town with an escort provided by the British 5th Lancers, the British cavalry regiment that had retreated from Mons in 1914, but the 1,500 troops drawn up in the town square, where Currie took the salute, were all Canadians.
A week later, on the 17th, a great service of thanksgiving took place in Mons Cathedral with a host of generals and dignitaries, including the Prince of Wales, in attendance. Currie was presented with a gold medal bearing the inscription: “La Ville de Mons au Lieut-général Sir Arthur Currie, en souvenir de la libération de la cité pars le Corps Canadien” [The City of Mons to Lieutenant General Sir Arthur Currie, in memory of the liberation of the city by the Canadian Corps], and the cathedral carillon played “O Canada.” A few days later, Belgium�
��s King Albert formally entered the town and congratulated Currie on the Canadian Corps’ achievement, which he described as “unsurpassed by [that of] any Corps in Europe.”[37]
But if the war was over, army life and its obligations were not. Currie had agreed to contribute two divisions to the Allied army that would occupy Germany over the next few months, and on November 18 the First and Second Divisions—chosen for this dubious honor because they had been the first in the field—began the 250-mile march into Germany. The whole distance had to be covered on foot, in full gear, and at a time of year when the persistent rain and mud were at their worst. Adding to the misery of the task was the fact that billets were poor or non-existent and food supplies did not always keep up with the troops. “Too often,” as Worthington observes, men were ordered to march off in the morning without breakfast[38] and on a number of occasions some of them refused to start until they had been fed. The fact that the Spanish influenza hit the Canadians as well, killing hundreds, did not help.
They crossed into Germany at Boho on December 4. Robert Clements of the 25th Battalion later proudly recalled:
Led by Robert the Bruce [the battalion’s mascot goat] ahead of the pipe band playing “Blue Bonnets over the Border” and with an honor guard proudly carrying the Union Jack, the battalion marching at attention with bayonets fixed swung grandly past a small reviewing stand. For a brief few minutes heads went up, shoulders were squared and sore feet were forgotten. They . . . meant every German in sight . . . to recognize what it meant to them that day to be Canadians.[39]
Eight more days of marching took the Canadians to the Rhine, which they crossed at Bonn on the 13th in parade order despite the heavy rain, this time with Currie taking the salute. This was Currie’s first ceremonial parade since assuming command of the Corps in 1917, and he was deeply moved, saying to Brigadier General Brutinel “I never realized till today, Bruty, what an irresistible force they are. There is nothing so impressive and so powerful anywhere!”[40] It was true, of course, but many of his men had had more than enough of war and, in Cook’s words, “cared not a whit for the symbolic event.”[41]
Although Brutinel was there with Currie on the 13th, his Motor Machine Gun Brigade did not participate in the official crossing of the Rhine because it had been sent ahead, in response to appeals for help from German local authorities in dealing with bands of Bolsheviks who were terrorizing the German countryside in the highly unstable days that followed the Armistice.[42]
Mercifully, the Canadians were only in Germany briefly before returning to Belgium—this time by train—then on to Le Havre, where they took ship for England, arriving on April 10, 1919. While awaiting transportation back to Canada, the Corps participated in the great peace parade in London on May 3, with King George V taking the salute at the march-past. Repatriation to Canada, an enormous logistical problem, began in April, but it was not until the autumn of 1919 that the demobilization of the Canadian Corps was complete.
1. Quoted in Robert J. Sharpe, The Last Day, the Last Hour: The Currie Libel Trial (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1988), 26.
2. Frederick George Scott, The Great War as I Saw It (Toronto: F. D. Goodchild, 1922), 319.
3. Quoted in Groom, A Storm in Flanders, 240.
4. Quoted in Groom, 241.
5. Groom, 242.
6. Cook, Shock Troops, 394.
7. Quoted in Berton, Marching as to War, 204.
8. Borden to Sir Thomas White, June 15, 1918, quoted in Borden, Letters to Limbo, 60.
9. Quoted in Borden, Letters to Limbo, 59.
10. J. L. Granatstein, Hell’s Corner: An Illustrated History of Canada’s Great War (Vancouver: Douglas & McIntyre, 2004), 177.
11. Granatstein, Hell’s Corner, 180.
12. Clements, Merry Hell, 206.
13. Byng quoted in Vance, Maple Leaf, 108; Winter, Haig’s Command, 271.
14. Clements, 213.
15. When the war broke out, Denmark remained neutral, so Dinesen tried to enlist in the British and French armies but was rejected by both. He traveled to New York City in 1917 but was rejected by the U.S. army as well. He finally succeeded when the Canadian recruiting office in New York accepted him in June 1917. He served overseas in the 42nd (Royal Highlanders) Battalion and earned both the Victoria Cross and the Croix de Guerre for extraordinary bravery at Parvillers in August 1918, then was promoted to lieutenant for a daring raid on a series of German trenches at Amiens.
16. Quoted in Berton, 209.
17. While happily risking his life in combat, Pick was also a member of parliament, having been elected in the 1917 federal election. His Victoria Cross is on display at the Canadian War Museum in Ottawa.
18. Cited in Winter, 207.
19. John Swettenham, To Seize the Victory: The Canadian Corps in World War I (Toronto: Ryerson Press, 1965), 238.
20. Ryan Goldsworthy, “Measuring the Success of Canada’s Wars: The Hundred Days Offensive as a Case Study.” Canadian Military Journal 13, no. 2 (Spring 2013): 50.
21. Victor Wentworth Odlum was a journalist and newspaper editor in Vancouver when he joined the 7th Battalion with the rank of Major in August 1914. He rose rapidly and was a Brigadier General before the end of the war. He was often in the front lines with his men, personally led several attacks with pistol in hand, and was wounded three times. Because he was a strict teetotaler, he would not allow his men their daily rum ration, substituting fruit juice, which earned him the derisive nicknames “Pea Soup Odlum” and “Old Lime Juice.” Born in England, George Pearkes emigrated to Canada in 1906 and settled near Red Deer, Alberta, then joined the North West Mounted Police. He enlisted in the 2nd CMR Battalion in March 1915, was awarded the Military Cross in 1916, was wounded five times, and earned the Victoria Cross at Passchendaele. In 1918 he was given command of the 116th Battalion, and at the end of the war he was awarded the DSO and Croix de Guerre. Following the war, he remained in the army reserve and, in the Second World War, was appointed Brigadier General commanding the Second (Seaforth Highlanders of Canada) Armored Brigade. In November 1941 he was promoted to Major General and replaced General A. G. L. McNaughton as commanding officer of the Canadian Corps. His opposition to the Dieppe raid resulted in his being returned to Canada in August 1942, when he became GOC Pacific Command. He received the CBE and the U.S. Order of Merit. He also opposed the government’s decision to deploy conscripts overseas and retired from the army when the government decided not to send Canadian troops to the Pacific theatre in 1945. He served in the House of Commons 1945–60 and was Minister of National Defence, 1957–60, when he recommended terminating the AVRO Arrow program and joining NORAD. He served as Lieutenant Governor of British Columbia 1960–68. See R. H. Roy, For Most Conspicuous Bravery: A Biography of Major-General George R. Pearkes, VC, Through Two World Wars. Vancouver: UBC Press, 1977. Louis James Lipsett was born in Ireland and became a professional soldier. From 1911 to 1914 he served in Canada, then commanded the 8th Battalion when it went overseas. He rose to command the Third Division after Malcolm Mercer was killed. He was transferred to command the British Fourth Division in September 1918 but was killed on October 14, making him the last British general to be killed in the war.
22. Born in Sherbrooke, Quebec, Frederick Oscar Loomis was active in the militia before the war. In 1914 he was given command of the 13th Battalion, rose to command the Third Division, and was awarded the DSO and bar, CMG, and KCB.
23. Granatstein, Hell’s Corner, 169.
24. Born in Montreal, Scott became an Anglican priest and served St. Matthew’s Church in Quebec City from 1896 to 1933, except for the war years when he was senior chaplain of the First Division with the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. He was wounded at Cambrai in 1918 and was awarded the CMG and DSO. He was also a well-known poet, perhaps best known for his collection of war poems, In the Battle Silences: Poems Written at the Front. London: Constable, 1916. Three of his five sons also served in the war and one of them, Henry Hutton Scott (1890–1916)
, was killed on October 21, 1916, while serving as a captain in the 87th (Canadian Grenadier Guards) Battalion. Another son was F. R. (Francis Reginald) Scott, who became a prominent lawyer, civil rights advocate, and poet.
25. Granatstein, Hell’s Corner, 171.
26. Shane B. Schreiber, Shock Army of the British Empire: The Canadian Corps in the Last 100 Days of the Great War (Westport, CT: Praeger, 1997), 87.
27. Quoted in Berton, 212.
28. Quoted in Berton, 212.
29. William Henry Tallis and two of his four brothers, all of whom had emigrated to Borden, Saskatchewan, in 1904, enlisted, and both brothers, Edgar Alfred and Victor Kirk, were killed, in September 1916 and February 1917. William’s son, Arnold John, was also killed, on September 2, 1918, as was his cousin, Harold William, on November 1. All appear to have served in the 46th (Saskatchewan) Battalion. Some sources incorrectly state that these four men were brothers.
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