"Row on row..."
~
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
~
(November 30, 1872 - January 28, 1918)
Sunday, November 11, 2012
"NO ROAD TO GLORY"
by Major A. R. Thompson, late 4th Battalion, C.E.F.
"Suddenly, out of a dawn that had seemed tired of strife, burst the thunder of guns as blinding flashes rent the parting shadows. A figure, eerie in the half light, ran shrieking towards the line. A sharp command brought the shell-shocked fugitive to a stop and haltingly he told what had happened. On the ground his head blown off, lay Smith, with others nearby dead and dying. One shell had knocked out eight men before the rest had scattered. Jones hurried along to see the extent of the casualties, and found all who had been hit were dead except O. and one other who was grievously wounded. Another man who had returned to the spot waited nearby and lent his help. Between them they managed to drag the two wounded men into a blind trench not far off. All the while the shelling continued furiously; crumps crashing one behind, one before, now nearer, now further like some fierce beast of prey who waits to tantilize before the kill. Poor O., his body badly split, lay groaning quietly. The other, with a strangely similar wound, first cursed, then cried aloud in so weird a medley of prayer and blasphemy that Jones trembled and his blood ran cold. at length help came; stretcher bearers from the 4th Battalion who had learned the plight of the wirers arrived and carried off the two sufferers. The party had scarcely gone 50 yards from their recent cover, when a shell tumbled into the trench so nearly their grave. When they reached the Dressing Station, O. had taken his discharge in full. His was the soul of Bayard; it rests in peace."
~ Canadian Military Gazette, February, 1941, VOL. LVI ~ No. 2
by Major A. R. Thompson, late 4th Battalion, C.E.F.
"Suddenly, out of a dawn that had seemed tired of strife, burst the thunder of guns as blinding flashes rent the parting shadows. A figure, eerie in the half light, ran shrieking towards the line. A sharp command brought the shell-shocked fugitive to a stop and haltingly he told what had happened. On the ground his head blown off, lay Smith, with others nearby dead and dying. One shell had knocked out eight men before the rest had scattered. Jones hurried along to see the extent of the casualties, and found all who had been hit were dead except O. and one other who was grievously wounded. Another man who had returned to the spot waited nearby and lent his help. Between them they managed to drag the two wounded men into a blind trench not far off. All the while the shelling continued furiously; crumps crashing one behind, one before, now nearer, now further like some fierce beast of prey who waits to tantilize before the kill. Poor O., his body badly split, lay groaning quietly. The other, with a strangely similar wound, first cursed, then cried aloud in so weird a medley of prayer and blasphemy that Jones trembled and his blood ran cold. at length help came; stretcher bearers from the 4th Battalion who had learned the plight of the wirers arrived and carried off the two sufferers. The party had scarcely gone 50 yards from their recent cover, when a shell tumbled into the trench so nearly their grave. When they reached the Dressing Station, O. had taken his discharge in full. His was the soul of Bayard; it rests in peace."
~ Canadian Military Gazette, February, 1941, VOL. LVI ~ No. 2
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