My Brothers' Footsteps

FOOTSTEPS OF PRIVATE GORDON LANTZ:

Colonel Canon O-Brien and I are with the 85th Battalion during the siege on Vimy Ridge on Easter morning in 1917. He is preparing for an Easter Mass for the Battalion which comprises of the surviving veterans of the 17th Highland Regiment that had been massacred by the Germans in 1915 and the 40th Battalion to bring the Regiment up to standards. The highlanders from Nova Scotia will not wear kilts nor will they take pipers into battle. Known by the other battalions as the highlanders without kilts; Lieutenant-Colonel Borden, commanding officer of the Nova Scotia battalion, did not want the Germans to know the Highlanders were back in battle. As yet, the 85th had not been in battle since arriving in France; they had been kept busy digging trenches and constructing roads. However, the Battalion was seeking revenge on the Germans and was anxious to meet them face to face. Many of the fresh recruits were younger brothers of the slain 17th Battalion. The Canon was especially protective of these young men. When the order came to exchange their shovels for rifles, it was met with a fierce war cry.
Company D from Cape Breton and Company C from Halifax are assigned the task. They had less than an hour to get in position to storm Hill 145. It seemed an impossible task as the Germans were well situated and had lots of gun power. It had already cost our Allies many lives in several attempts; their corpses were two-tier deep in No-man’s Land. And every shell hole was filled with injured soldiers waiting for stretcher-bearers. This was the only place to hide and many died or drowned in these shell holes that could be as deep as eight feet. So when the order was given to “Take the Hill at all costs”, seasoned veterans knew exactly what they were up against.
As Colonel Canon O’Brien hastily packs up his Mass kit so he can be ready to leave with the troops, he looks around for me. He needs a few things from his billet and the most important were combat boots for the water logged trenches. His well-polished high leather boots were of little use in this terrain. I had proved to be a good batman; always there when he needed me, getting him meals or giving him privacy when he asked. But I longed for a taste of the battle and this worried the Canon. He could see the longing in my eyes when other troops marched off to the fighting trenches. This time, he would take me to the trenches so I could see the horrors of war hoping to appease my longing but I wanted my baptism of fire that seemed to excite every soldier I talked to.
As the battalion slugged through the water filled trenches, I could hardly contain my excitement. Finally, a firsthand look at the battle; as of yet, I had not even seen the enemy despite being on the Front for two years. I spent most of my time in hospitals and dressing stations with the Chaplain or in the billets preparing meals or doing laundry. Whenever the Canon went to the front trenches, I was left behind to do some chore that could have been done later. I knew that Colonel O’Brien had been deliberately keeping me in safe places but this just fueled my desire to get into the action. Now I was going to get a real taste of the war. I might even get to fire my rifle, I thought as I labored through the mire behind the Chaplain. My head was full of silly thoughts of killing the enemy and how I would feel the true excitement of war. Little did I know, I would actually get to play out that wish. The Canon had decided to go to Hill 145 with the troops. He explained to me his plan as we waited for the order to go over the top. “These lads need us to administer to their wounded and dying. We should be safe enough if we stay behind the main assault.” The Canon looks at me for a reaction; I did not disappoint him as I realize this is my baptism of fire finally.
It had been snowing all day and No-Man’s Land was white. At first glance, I failed to see the white humps as they blended into the bright snow. It is still snowing and Hill 145 could not be seen from the jumping-off trenches as the Highlanders stand in waist-high water. The melting snow added to the woes of water-filled trenches. The water is freezing cold and I cannot keep from shivering. Suddenly the sun broke through the clouds; it blinded the Germans and the Highlanders jumped out of the trenches and swarmed across No-man’s Land. It took me by complete surprise as I had not heard the whistle that was their signal to charge. It was mayhem; bullets were flying everywhere and men were falling wounded or dead. I was frozen with wonder as I witnessed Captain Crowell, leading the Cape Breton Highlanders, get shot in the shoulder while climbing over broken wire, bits of wood and corpses, and yet he kept going. The Highlanders rush forward; their war cries echo across the frozen landscape. I watch as the Germans throw down their rifles and flee. I had been told that the Highlanders’ ancient war cry puts fear in the strongest of men. No wonder the Germans feared The Ladies from Hell. It certainly made the chills go up my spine. I am so absorbed in this scene that the Canon has to shake me. He is getting ready to go over the top with the last of the battalion. We must move fast to keep up but neither one of us is trained for this. The Colonel, unhindered, could move fast but I was weighed down with his haversack and my rifle. I soon fall behind and, in a panic, I run without looking down. I trip over a frozen corpse hidden in the snow. My rifle flies from my hands and my face hits the hard ground as I lay sprawled on the snow covered ground. Bullets are whizzing all around me and for a moment, I think I am hit. I look around and see Colonel O’Brien looking back at me but then he turns and follows the rest of the troops leaving me stranded. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remember one of the rules of combat. Don’t stop for fallen comrades, keep moving!
When I realize I am not shot, I quickly scramble to my feet. As I look around, I find myself alone. The troops have disappeared and only the moans and cries of the wounded in their wake can be seen and heard. Now panic sets in, and I experience fear for the first time. I can see my rifle a few yards to the left and I run to retrieve it. Bullets are hitting the ground around me, and as I run, I realize I don’t even know where I am going. I trip over another snow covered corpse and fall headlong into a shell hole half filled with partially frozen water. As I regain my feet, I realize I am standing in two feet of water in a deep shell hole. I have lost my rifle again and I am staring at two dead soldiers. They must have been wounded that morning on the advance to Vimy Ridge by the Canadian Corps and died waiting for rescue. I think I am going to be sick as I look at them. One soldier has half his face blown off and the other one is slumped over with his stomach contents floating in the water. I had seen these sights in the field dressing stations so, while I am shocked, I can keep myself from throwing up. But it is a grisly sight and I frantically try to scramble up the side of the shell hole. To my horror, I fall back into the blood stained water. I realize there is no way to get up that slick mud wall and I am trapped.