by Mark Zuehlke
At first the attack went well with the first three craters on the right quickly overrun and the British troops managing to bull their way through to the German third line 200 yards beyond. On the left flank, however, devastation from the explosions rendered landmarks unrecognizable. Confused, the assault troops halted in a large crater designated as Crater 6 in the mistaken belief they were on the assigned objectives of Craters 4 and 5. For three days the fighting raged with neither British nor German troops taking command of the two craters. But then German troops set up a machine-gun post inside Crater 5 and the British matched this with one of their own in Crater 4. On April 3, the British managed to overrun Crater 5 and the week’s fighting drew to a close with all assigned objectives but one taken. The sole objective remaining in German hands was Point 85, a height of ground in No Man’s Land the Germans immediately began using as a forming-up point for counterattacks.
At noon the following day, 2nd Canadian Infantry Division took over the front, finding its original trenches all but destroyed by the mine explosions and the 1,000-yard new line running in front of the craters defended by a trench no deeper than a drainage ditch. Bloated corpses and body parts protruded out of the mud or floated in the watery pools inside the craters. Tactically the position posed a nightmare to garrison—the ground so disturbed that the water table had risen virtually everywhere almost to the surface making trench digging a futile enterprise. Four of the craters were so closely clustered they formed an impassable barrier that forced troops moving from the rear to the front to carry out a wide detour around them. Crater 5—part of this cluster—was 50 feet deep and 180 feet across. The earth blasted from its heart formed a massive rampart that rose between 12 and 20 feet above ground and spilled outward for 50 yards in all directions. The Canadian Official Historian later declared that rarely had any troops been required to take over a “less advantageous position.”8
1st Canadian Infantry Division held the front lines immediately north of 2nd Division, but its troops had little idea of the precariousness of the situation to their south. The sounds of bombardments and counter-bombardments clearly indicated a fierce contest was underway, but with the Ypres-Comines Canal cutting between the divisional lines, 1st Division could play no useful role there.
The Canadian Scottish found their area of operations—so familiar to the veterans—difficult enough. “There stood ‘The Snout,’ ‘Hill 60,’ the village of Wytschaete perched on the northerly shoulder of our old friend, the Wytschaete-Messines Ridge, and the ruins of Hollebeke or Blue Château on the banks of the Ypres-Comines Canal at the foot of it. ... Prostrate before the gaze of the watchers on those ramparts, lay the city of Ypres, the hub of the salient, which radiated derelict canals and railways, and the roads and paths over which hastened the specks of humanity. … Even the rest camps in distant areas were at the mercy of the enemy, for every trace of habitation—the smoke or the dust by day, or the glimmer of light by night—lay open to his observation.”9
South of Ypres, behind the Canadian front, stood 511-foot-high Mont Kemmel, the eastern anchor for a range of hills stretching westward across the otherwise flat Flanders plain to the sea.10 But Kemmel and the rest of the range was too far back to serve as an observation point or defensive position. Their heights only reinforced the sense that soldiers in the salient lived inside a saucer. Movement by daylight was safe only for men moving warily in ones and twos. Anything larger drew immediate artillery or mortar fire. This meant conducting all supply and unit movement at night, but knowing this the Germans subjected all likely routes to sporadic artillery fire from dusk to dawn.11
Night in the salient was surreal, the flash and rumble of the German guns giving the impression of an endless sheet-lightning storm. Very lights and other flares bathed No Man’s Land in a ghostly light under which the barbed wire aprons glimmered. Nowhere was safe from shellfire, the shriek of incoming rounds usually heard too late for those struck by it to find cover. “When your number’s up …” the soldiers declared.
No Man’s Land was routinely subjected to untargeted searching fire by German machine guns, and snipers were always lurking and ready to shoot at the slightest movement within their range. At night, the racket was worse than during the days, so soldiers had to learn to sleep through it as best they could. And always there was the cold and damp that pervaded the trenches.
Dawn brought a welcome respite. Urquhart noted then that “nature, as if aware that she would be left undisturbed, reasserted herself. The haze of the night’s bombardment still floated around; the smell of the high explosive still tainted the air; but the skylark mounted up singing gaily. The fragrance of the blossoming hedges, the scent of flowers in the neglected gardens, the freshness of the morning air mingled in a draught of sweetness and advanced bravely to defeat the poison of death. The sun peeped over the summit of Wytschaete and gilded Kemmel with its tints; the war and its carnage dissolved for a fleeting moment into a mirage of beauty and peace.”12
With its right flank anchored on the foot of the hill known as The Snout and its left running along the summit of Mount Sorrel with Observatory Ridge—which was the last height of ground between Ypres and the Germans and so tactically vital to both sides—the 16th Battalion occupied a notoriously bad sector for drawing the fire of artillery and snipers positioned atop The Snout. One 60- to 70-yard chunk of open real estate just 500 to 600 yards from The Snout was routinely covered by the snipers there and could only be crossed at great peril in a headlong dash. Urquhart witnessed Major Cyrus Peck making such a dash, moving in a “hop and skip at a pace hardly in keeping with his ample proportions.” Lt. Gordon Tupper, who accompanied the major in this crossing, received a flesh wound while Peck’s batman, Pte. James Metcalf, later found a bullet lodged inside the case holding his safety razor. The Snout’s snipers were skillful and quick to recognize when senior officers came within range. Brig. George Tuxford had a bullet hit his newly issued steel helmet, circle clean around inside it, and then pass out like a momentarily trapped bee might without causing him the slightest injury.13
At first the German artillery concentrated its full fury on 2nd Division’s lines, but on April 4 the guns subjected the entire corps front to an almost continuous bombardment despite marking St. Eloi as the bull’s-eye point. The two forward 2nd Division battalions were badly mauled and their trenches so damaged that the men were exposed to deadly fire from machine guns ranging in from just 150 yards’ distance. By the evening of April 5, an attempt to relieve one of the battalions began despite the heavy shellfire. This relief was still underway when two German battalions counterattacked at 0330 hours on April 6 and, in less than three hours, the Canadian troops lost all the gains won by the British on March 27. The fighting would seesaw back and forth until April 19, when 2nd Division and British Second Army’s Gen. Herbert Plumer—who had ordered repeated counterattacks—were forced to admit defeat. Canadian casualties totalled 1,373 in exchange for 483 Germans killed.
“It seems extraordinary, yet if one thinks of it quietly and calmly, it is not very likely, but almost a natural outcome of the conditions under which your Division took over the line,” Lt.-Gen. Edwin Alderson wrote Maj.-Gen. Richard Turner. “Our Army Commander, gallant gentleman as he is, has taken it well, though he is probably most hit, because the Army originated the situation.”14
Plumer took the loss anything but graciously. He sacked the chief of staff and an assortment of officers from 3rd British Division, whom he believed botched the initial offensive. Then he turned on the Canadians, demanding the heads of Turner and Brig. H. D. B. Ketchen—whose 6th Canadian Infantry Brigade had been driven back. Knowing he could save only one of the men, Alderson drafted a report that made Ketchen the scapegoat. On reading it, Turner refused to endorse what he considered a pack of distortions. Furious at this rebuke by an officer he held in little esteem, Alderson asked Field Marshal Douglas Haig to dismiss Turner. Haig, cautioning that he sensed “some feeling against the English” among the
Canadians, demurred and decided to axe neither Turner nor Ketchen. Mistakes were to be expected, he declared, and the Canadians had all done “their best and made a gallant fight.”
None of this quelled Plumer’s fury and, backed into a corner, Haig announced that Alderson faced too many “administrative and political questions … in addition to his duties as commander in the field” and also “reluctantly” concluded that he was “incapable of holding the Canadian Divisions together.” Responding to a War Office request, Prime Minister Robert Borden and his Cabinet approved replacing Alderson on April 26. Within a month he was shuffled off to a face-saving appointment as Inspector General of the Canadian Troops in England.15 Thoroughly baffled, Alderson went to his largely redundant new posting believing his insistence on replacing the Ross rifle and equally problematic Colt machine gun with British weapons the summer before had so infuriated Sam Hughes that he vengefully masterminded his ouster. Although the move had enraged Hughes, who had watched with despair as the Canadian Corps set aside the Ross for Lee Enfields and the Colt in favour of a medley of Vickers and Lewis machine guns, he had played no role in Alderson’s removal.
Ottawa left it to Haig to appoint a successor and he selected Lt.-Gen. Julian H. G. Byng. The fifty-three-year-old Byng, known as “Bungo,” had been commander-in-chief of the British Army of Occupation in Egypt when the war broke out. Recalled to command 3rd Cavalry Division, he had led it through the First Battle of Ypres and more recently overseen the British evacuation from Gallipoli before taking command of XVII Corps on the Western Front. Both as a divisional and corps commander Byng had established a reputation as a “master of tactics,” who was practical, thoughtful, and unafraid of innovation.16 This had surprised many colleagues who had seen him as a stereotypical cavalryman—jaunty, cheerful, but not overly bright.
Perhaps fearing it meant he was being sent into the wilderness of obscurity, Byng lamented: “Why am I sent to the Canadians? I don’t know a Canadian. Why this stunt?”17 Initially his fears seemed valid as Canadian Corps was directed to take over a larger frontage in the salient so that Haig could withdraw British divisions for transfer to the Somme where the next great summer offensive was to occur.
The new alignment of the corps left 2nd Division still before St. Eloi, 1st Division operating with two battalions forward in a frontage centred on Hill 60, and 3rd Division extending its full four battalions in line from Hill 60, past Mount Sorrel to Hill 61 and nearby Hill 62, then north-wards to Sanctuary Wood, and into The Gap—as the ruined village of Hooge was called. Branching off for a thousand yards west of Hill 62—nicknamed Tor Top—was Observatory Ridge. The Germans had long desired this ridge, because from its heights they would be able to mount accurate artillery fire against any target deep behind the Allied front, which might well make retaining the salient untenable.
In early May, the Canadians began to suspect the Germans were getting ready to make their move when patrols discovered German engineers pushing saps forward on either side of Tor Top. By month end, a trench dug 50 yards forward of the German front line and just a hundred yards from the Canadian wire on a lateral line to the saps tied them together. Similar saps were found in front of Mount Sorrel. The Royal Flying Corps also reported that a curious trench system had appeared that served no tactical purpose, but identically matched the Canadian positions near Tor Top. Was this a rehearsal area? Nobody knew. But the sense that something was afoot grew.
Just after nightfall on June 1, the German artillery fell silent all along the Canadian front. Not another shell was fired for the remaining seven hours of darkness. Unbeknownst to the Canadians, German infantry was at work in No Man’s Land, cutting gaps in the wire in front of 3rd Division. Rising suspicions that the artillery silence meant the Germans were up to something were allayed when the guns resumed their harassment fire shortly before dawn. At 0600 on June 2, Maj.-Gen. Malcolm Mercer and Brig. Victor Williams of the division’s 8th Canadian Infantry Brigade were strolling the front-line trenches that ran from Mount Sorrel to Tor Top just as the Germans opened up with a “veritable tornado of fire [that] ravaged the Canadian positions from half a mile west of Mount Sorrel to the northern edge of Sanctuary Wood.” What followed, the War Office later declared, was “the heaviest [bombardment] endured by British troops up to this time.”18 Unable to drive the Allies out of their forward trenches with poison gas, the Germans had now decided to mirror Allied tactics by attempting to blast them out through sheer weight of shells fired from a massive concentration of guns positioned immediately behind the infantry being sent into an attack.
Smack in the vortex of this bombardment was 8th Brigade’s 4th Canadian Mounted Rifles and, in minutes, “their trenches vanished and the garrisons in them were annihilated.” Of 702 officers and men, only 76 emerged unscathed. Mercer and Williams were both gravely wounded—the former’s eardrums shattered. Nobody could move, there was no question of evacuating the wounded or rescuing the two senior officers from where they lay. On Mount Sorrel’s reverse slope an underground gallery offered some shelter and here most of the survivors huddled until it too collapsed. The barrage raged for seven hours. Then the Germans detonated four mines close to the trenches on Mount Sorrel and four infantry battalions advanced with eleven more standing in reserve. “In bright sunlight the grey-coated figures advanced in four waves spaced about seventy-five yards apart,” wrote the Canadian official historian. “Afterwards Canadian survivors spoke of the assured air and the almost leisurely pace of the attackers, who appeared confident that their artillery had blotted out all resistance.”
They met virtually no resistance, for 1st Canadian Mounted Rifles—the other 8th Brigade battalion on the front lines—had also been shattered by the shelling and reduced to scattered bands that could only fight and die or surrender. Meanwhile, 3rd Division’s commander was struck in the leg by a bullet and then finished off by a spray of shrapnel. Williams was captured. In minutes the division and brigade under attack were rendered leaderless. From a few isolated fortified positions, Canadians fought back only to be immolated by Germans armed with flamethrowers. After piercing 600 yards into the Canadian lines, the storm troops leading the assault halted per their instructions and began digging in despite being astride Observatory Ridge with little between them and the ultimate prize of Ypres. This gave the beleaguered Canadians a breathing space to reorganize and establish a blocking line.
Brig. E. S. Hoare-Nairne of the Lahore Divisional Artillery assumed temporary command of 3rd Division while Lt.-Col. J.C.L. Bott of the 2nd Canadian Mounted Rifles took over 8th Canadian Infantry Brigade, reestablishing a command structure. Byng, meanwhile, issued orders at 2045 that “all ground lost to-day will be retaken tonight” in a counterattack at 0200 hours. With 3rd Division in disarray and reeling from its devastating losses, Hoare-Nairne was given two of 1st Division’s brigades for the counterattack with 2nd Canadian Infantry Brigade to operate against Mount Sorrel while 3rd Canadian Infantry Brigade struck Tor Top.19
Because 3rd Brigade had been in corps reserve and 16th Battalion’s Lt.-Col. Jack Leckie was away on leave, Major Cyrus Peck commanded the Canadian Scottish. Peck had been at brigade headquarters when the initial bombardment of 3rd Division began and for far too long the news received was contradictory and confusing. Finally, he had returned to battalion knowing little other than a crisis was at hand. Rumours were flying that the entire salient was collapsing.
Not until 1630 hours was Brig. George Tuxford summoned to 1st Division headquarters and told 3rd Brigade would be attacking. Even then Maj.-Gen. Arthur Currie could not tell him what objectives he was to aim for. Tuxford decided all he could do was get the brigade moving toward the front, but this had to be undertaken cautiously as he had no idea how far the Germans had penetrated.20
Peck had anticipated events, earlier confining the Canadian Scottish to their camp while “the wagons, with the entrenching tools, reserve small arms ammunition, and grenades were brought from the transport lines.”21 Consequ
ently, when orders arrived at 1700 hours, the battalion was able to move immediately. Because of the way the brigade had been billeted, the Royal Montreal Regiment and 48th Highlanders of Canada were closer to the jumping-off point than the other two battalions, so Tuxford decided they would put in the attack with the Royal Highlanders of Canada and the Canadian Scottish standing in support.
While his men marched, Tuxford reported to Brigadier Hoare-Nairne for final instructions. He was dismayed to be kept loitering outside 3rd Division headquarters until 2145 hours because the acting divisional commander was off discussing details at corps headquarters. Finally, Hoare-Nairne returned and gave Tuxford written instructions that in “conjunction with the 2nd Canadian Infantry Brigade on the right and the 7th Canadian Infantry Brigade on the left, the 3rd Brigade would attack and recover trenches 52 to 59 inclusive, comprising Hills 61 and 62.” With the brigade still 11 miles from its dawn attack position, Tuxford realized he was in “a race against time.” Fortunately a 3rd Division staff officer had sped things up with a telephone call to 3rd Brigade headquarters. Advised of the plan well before Tuxford, Captain Urquhart had acted on his own initiative and ordered the battalions forward a mile to an assembly point near Zillebeke.22
Urquhart remained uneasy, fearing reported “strong masses of Germans … moving up towards Mount Sorrel” indicated that enemy reinforcements had so strengthened the enemy positions the counterattack would fail. By the time Tuxford returned, all the headquarters staff, except for Urquhart and the brigade major, had gone ahead. Horses saddled and ready outside the small hut, the three men huddled for a final consultation over a large trench map showing the southern portion of the salient spread on a table before them. Suddenly a car pulled up and Gen. Currie stomped in. “Towering above them all and pointing to the map … he explained in a quiet, decisive way the involved situation, urged all speed with the assembling of the troops, and ended his appreciation by the statement: ‘We can’t tell what the enemy’s intentions are, and, for all we know, he may be planning to drive us from the Salient before the morning.’”23