Gas Attack - 24th April 1915

 Gassed near Hill 60

Lance-Corporal R. G. Simmins, 8th Battalion Canadian Infantry, 90th Winnipeg Rifles.

It was on Saturday, the 24th, that our Brigade had their first experience of gas. We had been shelling the German trenches all day, and were standing to, expecting an attack by the enemy. We naturally looked for the employment of the usual methods, and were ready to receive the Germans when they showed themselves. We were strongly entrenched, and many a keen eye was kept on the hostile ground, watching for the appearance of the enemy. But not a sight of a German was to be had; there was no commotion, no excitement, no appearance of anything uncanny or uncommon, yet there was coming towards us a German weapon which was neither honest artillery nor small arms—poison-gas.

There was nothing to be seen in the air, yet suddenly, and without any apparent cause, we were overpowered by a smell exactly like nasturtium, but infinitely stronger and more pungent. The similarity noticed is remarkable, for doesn’t nasturtium come from Latin words which really mean a nose-twister? Anyway, there we were in our trenches, unexpectedly overpowered by a horrible acrid smell and an invisible gas.

A lot of the boys—fine, splendid, honest fellows, who did not understand the meaning of any kind of warfare that is not honourable and aboveboard, were utterly unable to fathom the mystery, and they seemed to think that it was the kind of pest that had to be taken with the other discomforts of campaigning in the Low Country.

“What the deuce is it?” they asked.

It was not until the whole unspeakable visitation was over that most of the men realised what had happened, and that the Germans had tried to blind us as a preliminary to annihilation. Like so many more of the German hopes, this did not develop on the lines that had been planned.

This was the first poison-gas attack that we experienced, and I am thankful to say that on the whole it was a failure; but when you remember that we were utterly unready for such a filthy form of fighting, and that we had no means of combating it or nullifying its effects, you will realise the extreme disadvantage of the contest from the point of view of the Canadians.

I have said that it was about four o’clock in the afternoon when we had our first experience of the poison-gas. Now that I am talking of the thing it strikes me as a strange coincidence that it was at about four o’clock in the morning when we had our second visitation.

We had got into our stride and settled down to hard hammering and what you might call routine campaigning. Then came the morning of Saturday, April 24th, when the sun rose ten minutes before five o’clock, which means that at about four o’clock day was breaking.

Most of us were asleep; but in war time there is no such thing as universal rest for men, and our sentries were posted and keeping watchful eyes upon the German lines. It is said that the darkest hour comes just before the dawn, and I think there is no doubt that man’s lowest vitality is reached at that particular period. At any rate, the Germans probably thought so, for they planned a specially fatal attack upon us in the grey hours of this April morning.

While looking round in the cheerless dawn one or two of our sentries saw a yellowish kind of cloud coming towards us, over the hogback, and travelling pretty fast. The sight was unusual enough to be noticed, but no one who saw it had the slightest idea what it really was, until we were enveloped in the filthy folds; then we knew that it was poison-gas.

The cloud rolled on, and as it got quite close to us I noticed that it was about eight feet or twelve feet high, a deep, dense yellow at the bottom, and becoming lighter towards the top, so diffuse, indeed, that it was almost indistinguishable from the atmosphere. It is not easy exactly to convey an understanding of what the cloud really was, because few men have ever seen anything like it; but it might well be described as a moving mass of yellow, fat filth, insufferably loathsome. The poison-gas, the[40] chief constituent of which I took to be chlorine, was about twice as heavy as air, and, consequently, it travelled along the surface of the ground.

I saw the yellow cloud come, I watched it as it enveloped us, and I observed it as it rolled away behind us and went towards Ypres, gradually losing force as it was absorbed in the air. In addition to being so favourably situated, we had just had a rum ration—and plenty of it. I do not know whether the spirit did us any good, but it certainly did not do us the least harm, and may have helped to nullify the effects of the poison-gas.

Our salient, vulnerable and undoubtedly attractive to the Germans, was rushed by them, and they succeeded in breaking through and occupying a trench about a hundred yards away from our own and parallel with it. They came on with wonderful steadiness, advancing just as if they were on parade, scarcely breaking step at all. They came out of their trenches about a dozen at a time, formed two long lines, and literally seemed to walk over into the trench, though we were peppering at them all the time. They kept up an excellent covering fire, with the result that a good many of our own men were shot.

This was fair, open fighting, the sort of thing that a soldier expects, and into the spirit of which he can enter. It gave opportunities, too, for the display of the best qualities of warfare, and these were shown by a man I knew very well, Company Sergeant-Major F. W. Hall, of my company. In spite of a very heavy and at that time fatal fire, the sergeant-major rushed out from the shelter of his trench to bring in a wounded man who was lying in the open. He seemed to bear a charmed life, for he got clear of the trench and was untouched by the fire of the enemy.

The sergeant-major managed, by good fortune which seemed miraculous, to get as far as the wounded man; he seized him and started with his burden for safety. In fact he actually got him as far as the trench, then, when the worst seemed over and security was just within his reach, when he was getting over the parapet and men were loudly cheering him because of his success, he was shot and killed. But the uncommon courage of the action had been noticed, and later on, to the real gratification of all the Canadians, and especially those who knew him, the announcement was made that the dead hero had been awarded the Victoria Cross. Hall’s men were terribly shattered by the enemy’s rifle and machine-gun fire; but in spite of it all they held their ground, and the living remnant won great glory.

It was not long before I dropped. I did not recover till the fight had swept away to my right. Then I reported to an artillery officer who was near, and he showed me the way to Ypres, telling me also to go into the city for hospital treatment.

 

Assault by Erno Muller

This poem is by the Erno Muller and is written from the German perspective. I came across it at college where we compared it with Wilfred’s Owen “Dulce et Decorum est".

It captures the intense reality faced by the common soldier.

Assault

Gas!
faces turned,
eyes scanned the sky,
hands feverishly ripped open canisters,
and masks were soon covering faces.

A man choked
as the white cloud,
swirling round him like fog, caught him
unawares.
Then his body flopped over.
Shells floated across
as if suspended by hidden strings,
and then, tired,
they sank earthwards.

A command!
Like a cold shower
To revive the mumbling shadows.
I fixed my bayonet,
scrambled over the open trench
and struggled through
the thick pasty mud.

It was quiet
as we walked
except for the sucking,
groaning, squelching sound
which came from the wet earth
as it tried
to creep into our stockings.

The wind cut me.
with the skill of an executioner
as it came roaring down the ridge
towards which we were marching
over the wall!

Then a whistle.
‘Good luck, mates.’
Mind that hole. Through the wire.
Over the top.
And kill.
‘God. This is fun!’

First Gas Attack - The Diary of a Nursing Sister

This account of the First Gas Attack comes from the book ‘Diary of a Nursing Sister on the Western Front 1914-1915’. The author remained anonymous but it gives a good account of what it must have been like working at a Dressing Station.

It is interesting how the medical staff of both allied divisions experimented with different types of mask in an effort to combat the fumes and nearly killed themselves doing it!

"Saturday, April 24th.—We were watching hundreds of men pass by to-day, whistling and singing, on their way to the trenches.

News came to us this morning of the Germans having broken through the trench lines north of Ypres and shelled Poperinghe, which was out of range up to now, but it is not official.

The guns are very loud to-night; I hope they're keeping the Germans busy; something is sure to be done to draw them off the Ypres line.

Sunday, April 25th.—The plum-pudding was "something to write home about!" and the Quartermaster sent us a tin of honey to-day, the first I've seen for nine months.

A General came round this morning. He said the Canadians and another regiment had given the Germans ‘what for’ for this gas-fumes business north of Ypres, got the ground back and recovered the four guns. The beasts of Germans laid out a whole trench full of Zouaves with chlorine gas (which besides being poisonous is one of the most loathsome smells). Of course every one is busy finding out how we can go one better now. But this afternoon the medical staffs of both these divisions have been trying experiments in a barn with chlorine gas, with and without different kinds of masks soaked with some antidote, such as lime. All were busy coughing and choking when they found the A.D.M.S. of the —— Division getting blue and suffocated; he'd had too much chlorine, and was brought here, looking very bad, and for an hour we had to give him fumes of ammonia till he could breathe properly. He will probably have bronchitis. But they've found out what they wanted to know—that you can go to the assistance of men overpowered by the gas, if you put on this mask, with less chance of finding yourself dead too when you got there. They don't lose much time finding these things out, do they?

On Saturday I shall be going on night duty for a month.

Monday, April 26th, 11 p.m.—We have been admitting, cutting the clothes off, dressing, and evacuating a good many to-day, and I think they are still coming in.

There is a great noise going on to-night, snapping and popping, and crackling of rifle firing and machine-guns, with the sudden roar of our 9.2's every few minutes. The thundery roll after them is made by the big shell bounding along on its way.

Two officers were brought in last night from a sap where they were overpowered by carbon monoxide. Three of them and a sergeant crawled along it to get out the bodies of another officer and a sergeant who'd been killed there by an explosion the day before; it leads into a crater in the German lines, and reaches under the German trenches, which we intended to blow up. But they were greeted by this poisonous gas last night, and the officer in front of these two suddenly became inanimate; each tried to pull the one in front out by the legs, but all became unconscious in turn, and only these two survived and were hauled out up twenty feet of rope-ladder. They will get all right.

The wounded ones are generally in "the excited stage" when they arrive—some surprised and resentful, some relieved that it is no worse, and some very quiet and collapsed.
Captain —— showed me his periscope to-day; you bob down and look into it about level with his mattress, and then you see a picture of the garden across the road. He has seen one made by Ross with a magnifying lens in it so good that you can see the moustaches of the Boches in it from the bottom of your trench. The noise is getting so beastly I must knock off and read 'Punch.'

Tuesday, April 27th.—Have been busy all day, and so have the guns. When the 15-inch howitzers began to talk the old concierge lady at the O.D.S. trotted out to see l'orage, and found a cloudless sky, and, mon Dieu, it was les canons. It is a stupendous noise, like some gigantic angry lion. The official accounts of the second dash for Calais reach us through 'The Times' two days after the things have happened, but the actual happenings filter along the line from St Omer (G.H.Q.) as soon as they happen, so we know there's been no real "breaking through" that hasn't been made good, or partially made good, because if there had, the dispositions all along the line would have had to be altered, and that has not happened.

The ambulance trains are collecting the Ypres casualties straight from the convoys at Poperinghe, as we did at Ypres in October and November, and not through the Clearing Hospitals, which I believe have had to move farther back."

'Dulce et Decorum Est' by Wilfred Owen

In a look at some articles on the First Gas Attack, I thought I would publish the famous poem ‘Dulce et Decorum Est’ by the great Wilfred Owen.

It was as an impressionable 18 year old that I first read this poem during a college English Literature class. The poem and the college course changed my life and I have been interested in the First World War ever since.

Owen makes the whole dimension of the war come alive with the full horror of it all. It is amazing the way he involves the reader into the horrific world by using the word ‘you’. No longer are you looking in at a scene, you become part of it.

“DULCE ET DECORUM EST” is the first words of a Latin saying (taken from an ode by Horace). The words were widely understood and often quoted at the start of the First World War. They mean "It is sweet and right." The full saying ends the poem: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori - it is sweet and right to die for your country.

You can make up your own mind, whether Owen thought the slow agonizing death from drowning in poison gas was a “sweet and right thing”!


DULCE ET DECORUM EST

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .

Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.


For more information on the poem here is an excellent article by Nicole Smith:
"Dulce et Decorum Est" by Wilfred Owen and the Transition of History

Gas Attack - Respirators Needed.

This excellent article from the British Nursing Journal dated 1st May 1915; (page 368) enlightens the readers with the need for a special respirator after the first gas attack.

It goes on to inform the reader of the Hague Convention and how Germany had contravened it. How the “Dense yellow gas” could not have been Carbon Monoxide.
Finally it prints the War Office request for home made respirators for the front.

All in all a great article, one can imagine families at home making respirators out of old stockings!

"A SPECIAL RESPIRATOR.

The fumes of modern shells are very harmful for the men exposed to them. The special respirator is made so that men exposed to these fumes can breathe a purer air. There is an ingenious little valve on the top, which opens to allow the air to come out when exhaling, but closes and prevents ingress during inspiration.

But it is not only the fumes of shells with which the Allies have to contend. The military correspondent of a contemporary states that “ the use of such shells as were employed by the Germans in the action north of Ypres can only be classed with the poisoning of wells or the dissemination of the germs of plague or cholera. Filled with highly compressed carbon-monoxide, or some similar heavy and deadly gas, their employment seems to have been successful in compelling the French to retire for a short distance. But, regard for conventions apart, no army would use these projectiles unless its chiefs believed the position to be desperate, for it is perfectly easy for an “enemy to retort in kind."

It is pointed out that the employment of this diabolical device is in direct contravention of the Hague Convention, which was signed by Germany among other nations. The declaration relating to the use of asphyxiating gases sets forth that “the contracting parties agree to abstain from the use of projectiles. The object of which is the diffusion of asphyxiating or deleterious gases.”

The phenomenon of asphyxiation may be divided into three distinct classes, arising in the main from the following causes:-

(I) Asphyxiation resulting from the initial velocity (a) of the projectiles and the rapidity with which these are fired; (b) the “bursting height" of the shell and the ricocheting power prior to explosion.
(2) The material employed in the modern common and shrapnel shell.
(3) The material employed in grenades or bombs now in use by the Germans in the case of projectiles the sole objective of which is asphyxiation.

It has been suggested that the gas used is carbon monoxide, but this is controverted by another authority on the ground that under normal conditons carbon monoxide is slightly lighter than the air, and, when expanded by heat is SO much lighter, that the air disturbance caused by the explosion leads to rapid upward diffusion and the gas is never present in dangerous quantities at the breathing level. A French official dispatch states that ''A dense yellow smoke, emanating from the German trenches and blown by a north wind, produced an effect of complete asphyxiation upon our troops which was felt as far as our second line positions."

This description is consistent with the appearance and effect of sulphur dioxide which is a true asphyxiant, four parts in 10,000 of air rendering it unbreathable.

But whatever the gas may be used a respirator becomes of the utmost importance. A still simpler device is used by the workmen in bleaching chambers, who tie a strip of wet flannel impregnated with carbonate of soda over the mouth and breathe through it, allowing the air to return through the nostrils

Late on Tuesday night the War Office issued the following communication:

As a protection against the asphyxiating gases being used as a weapon of warfare by the Germans, supplies of one or both of the following types of respirator are required by the troops at the front. Either can be made easily in any household.

First, a face piece (to cover mouth and nostrils), formed of an oblong pad of bleached absorbent cotton wool, about 5 ¼ ins by 3 ins by ¾ ins, covered with three layers of bleached cotton gauze, and fitted with a band, to fit round the head and keep the pad in position, consisting of a piece of half-inch cotton elastic 16 ins long, attached to the narrow end of the face pad, to form a loop.

Second, a piece of double stockinette, 9 1/2 ins long and 3 ½ ins wide in the centre, gradually diminishing in width to 2 1/2 ins at each end, with a piece of thick plaited worsted about 5 ins long, attached at each end, so as to form a loop to pass over the ear.

These respirators should be sent in packages of not less than 100 to the Chief Ordnance Officer, Royal Army Clothing Department, Pimlico."

First Gas Attack - Brig.-Gen. Sir J. E. Edmonds.

Brig.-Gen. Sir J. E. Edmonds., of the Royal Engineers gave this account of the first gas attack, the full article can be found at The Great War in a Different Light,


The View

The 22nd April was a glorious spring day. Air reconnaissance in the morning had disclosed considerable liveliness behind the German lines and some activity in the Houthulst Forest (2 miles north of Langemarck), where a column was seen on the march, though it tried to evade observation; but there was nothing abnormal in this. In the forenoon there was considerable shelling of Ypres by 17-inch and 8-inch howitzers and lighter guns, and towards midday, of the roads leading into the town; but this gradually ceased and all was quiet again.

Suddenly, at 5 p.m., a new and furious bombardment of Ypres by heavy howitzers was recommenced. The villages in front of Ypres, almost untouched until then, were also heavily shelled, and simultaneously French field-guns to the north-east of Ypres began a somewhat rapid fire, although the German field artillery was silent. At first some officers who heard the firing surmised that the newly arrived Algerian Division was "shooting itself in"; but those who were on points of vantage saw two curious greenish-yellow clouds on the ground on either side of Langemarck in front of the German line. These clouds spread laterally, joined up, and, moving before a light wind, became a bluish-white mist, such as is seen over water meadows on a frosty night. Behind the mist the enemy, by the sound of his rifle fire, was advancing. Soon, even as far off as the V Corps report centre at "Goldfish Chateau" (2,000 yards west of Ypres railway station and five miles from Langemarck) a peculiar smell was noticed, accompanied by smarting of the eyes and tingling of the nose and the throat. It was some little time, however, before it was realized that the yellow clouds were due to the gas about which warnings had been received, and almost simultaneously French coloured troops, without officers, began drifting down the roads through the back areas of the V Corps. Soon afterwards French Territorial troops were seen hurriedly crossing the bridges over the canal north of Ypres. It was impossible to understand what the Africans said, but from the way they coughed and pointed to their throats, it was evident that, if not suffering from the effects of gas, they were thoroughly scared. Teams and wagons of the French field artillery next appeared retiring, and the throng of fugitives soon became thicker and more disordered, some individuals running and continuing to run until they reached Vlamertinghe and beyond. Although the "seventy-fives" were firing regularly, it was obvious that something very serious had happened, and this was emphasized when, about 7 p.m., the French guns suddenly ceased fire.

Brig.-Gen. Sir J. E. Edmonds.

Gas Attack - St. Julien 24th May 1915

This account of a gas attack comes from the Kildare Observer 10th July 1915. It was given by Private James Rogers of the Royal Dublin Fusiliers. He mentions St Johns which is probably St Julien . According to the Royal Dublin Fusiliers Association:

“The German gas attack in the early hours of May 24, was described as being about three miles long and forty feet deep. The Allied troops in the trenches had little hope of escape. The 2nd Battalion of the Royal Dublin Fusiliers were serving at the front that night. The gas bleached the grass, blighted the trees and left a 'broad scar of destruction in its wake'.”

Although this was a month later than the First Attack on April 22nd, it is an interesting account of life at the front.

“as I listened to the tale of horror, of valour and of suffering, told in simple yet vivid language with Private James Rogers, of the Royal Dublin Fusiliers, unfolded to me. Private Rogers, who is yet little more than a boy, thought he has experienced more of the stern realities of life than fall to the lot of even the most adventurous amongst us in a long lifetime during the "piping time of peace", is son of Mr. John Rogers, Millbrook, Naas, and has seen five and a half years' service with the "Dubs", four and a half with the third battalion since mobilisation in August last. He looks none the worse for his six months in the firing line. Private Rogers has been on a short furlough with his parents in Millbrook after his recovery from the effects of the wound for which he was sent from the front. He has now gone to join his regiment with the prospect of further thrills before him, from which, let us hope, he will return unscathed.”


“We were next moved to reinforce the Cheshire’s in the trenches. There we remained for about ten days, after which we were shifted to St. John. That was on Whit Monday and here the toughest time began. About 5 o'clock we were saluted with gas from the Germans. The first thing I have any clear recollection of in the excitement was a shout of THE GAS! THE GAS! and it was upon us. A lot of our fellows got badly choked by it, but I was not much affected by it at all. After giving up the gas they began to shell us with high explosives. Part of our fellows on our right had retired, thus leaving our right flank exposed. Most of our officers had been knocked over by the gas and shells and either killed or wounded. A Scottish regiment came up to reinforce us about 8 o'clock, but they were gassed and had to retire. All our officers and non-commissioned officers had been knocked over except Lieut. Shanks, who was in charge of what was left of us. We held the position until about 11 o'clock, where there were ONLY SIX OR SEVEN OF US LEFT. The remainder had all been killed or wounded. When the "Jocks" (as we call the Scottish regiments out there) retired it was a matter of looking out for ourselves. Our right and left flanks were gone. We were told that reinforcements were coming up to us, and I said to the few that was left that we should try and hold on until they arrived. A little later four of the six left stole away to look out for themselves, and they got away. There were then ONLY TWO OF US LEFT, myself and a fellow named Andrews, a Dublin chap. We though we had better try to make a rush to get back to headquarters. The very minute we got out of the trench they turned a machine gun on us, but we managed to cover a bit of ground unhurt, and got to about 100 yards behind the reserve trenches, which were unoccupied at this time. The bullets were flying all about us. They tore through my coat and shirt just under the left arm. I had this (producing a Queen Mary Xmas present box) in the pocket on the left side of my tunic, and that must have saved my life. It was full of fags at the time. A bullet struck it, and going through the cover, glanced off the bottom of the box. (The box itself bore evidence of the valuable service it had done Pte. Rogers). The bullets kept on flying and whistling around us, and then I found myself hit in the left arm. I felt the blood running down my sleeve, but in the excitement I did not mind much. Just then Andrews got shot in the wrist and I WENT TO BANDAGE HIM. We lay down in a ditch, which gave us a bit of cover and every time we tried to get up the machine gun opened fire on us. We thought our best chance was to lie there for a while. We lay down in the ditch for a while, but the other fellow could not "stick" it any longer, and said he would have to go to headquarters. He stood up and made a run for it. I waited, lying down, until he had time to get clear (and I found he got safely to headquarters) and then I made a bolt for it. I saw there was a little more cover in a ditch on the other side of the road and thought I would make for that side. They cut the GROUND FROM UNDER MY FEET as I crossed the road, but I got into the drain all right, and crept back to headquarters. The first men I saw when I got there were Captain Leahy and Captain Magan.

"We had sent word down for reinforcements and a message came back from Col. Loveband to hold on a little longer, that the reinforcements were coming. The Colonel was in a "dug out" near headquarters. The "Jocks" told us the Warwicks were coming to our aid, and to try and hold out.

That was the last message we had from Colonel Loveband, and it was at about 8 o'clock in the morning, as I came back to headquarters past the "dug out" I saw a man lying near the trench. I thought I knew the boots - a sort of highlaced boots. I went over and found there was a coat over the man's face. I lifted it off and saw it was the BODY OF COLONEL LOVEBAND. He had, as far as I could make out, been shot through the lip, just at the bottom of the nose. I looked at the wound and saw the bullet had gone through the back of his head. He was evidently anxious about us - to see how we were getting on without the reinforcements and wanted to have a look. He came out of the trench and was evidently got by a sniper. His face when I saw him dead seemed as if he was laughing - a sort of smile on his features.

"When I got to hospital I was like a ragman - my clothes flittered by bullets".

First Gas Attack - An Eyewitness Account.

This famous eyewitness account of the first gas attack was from Anthony R. Hossack. He joined the Queen Victoria Rifles at the beginning of the War and served with them from early 1915 until after the Battle of Arras, where, in July 1917, he was wounded, returning to France at the end of February 1918, when he was attached to the M.G. Battalion of the 9th (Scottish) Division, and, after coming through the retreat from St. Quentin, was taken prisoner in the battle for Mt. Kemmel.

The full article is on a Great War in a Different Light.

"It was Thursday evening, April 22nd, 1915. In a meadow off the Poperinghe-Ypres road, the men of the Queen Victoria Rifles were taking their ease. We had just fought our first big action in the fight for Hill 60. We had had a grueling time, and had left many of our comrades on its slopes. We survivors were utterly spent and weary; but we felt in good heart, for only an hour ago we had been personally congratulated by Sir John French, also the Army Commander, General Smith-Dorrien.

Now some of us were stretched out asleep on the grass, others making preparations for a much-needed toilet. Our cooks were preparing a meal, and on our right a squad of Sappers were busily erecting huts, in which we were to sleep. Alas! we never used them. As the sun was beginning to sink, this peaceful atmosphere was shattered by the noise of heavy shell-fire coming from the north-west, which increased every minute in volume, while a mile away on our right a 42-cm. burst in the heart of the stricken city of Ypres.

As we gazed in the direction of the bombardment, where our line joined the French, six miles away, we could see in the failing light the flash of shrapnel with here and there the light of a rocket. But more curious than anything was a low cloud of yellow-grey smoke or vapour, and, underlying everything, a dull, confused murmuring.

Suddenly, down the road from the Yser Canal came a galloping team of horses, the riders goading on their mounts in a frenzied way; then another and another, till the road became a seething mass, with a pall of dust over all.

Plainly something terrible was happening. What was it? Officers, and Staff Officers, too, stood gazing at the scene, awestruck and dumbfounded; for in the northly breeze there came a pungent, nauseating smell that tickled the throat and made our eyes smart. The horses and men were still pouring down the road, two or three men on a horse, I saw, while over the fields streamed mobs of infantry, the dusky warriors of French Africa; away went their rifles, equipment, even their tunics, that they might run the faster. One man came stumbling through our lines. An officer of ours held him up with levelled revolver. "What's the matter, you bloody lot of cowards?" says he. The Zouave was frothing at the mouth, his eyes started from their sockets, and he fell writhing at the officer's feet. " Fall in.! " Ah ! we expected that cry; and soon we moved across the fields in the direction of the line for about a mile. The battalion is formed into line, and we dig ourselves in.

It is quite dark now, and water is being brought round, and we hear how the Germans have, by the use of poison gas, driven a French army corps out of the line, creating a huge gap which the Canadians have closed pro tern. A cheer goes up at this bald statement, though little we knew at what a cost those gallant souls were holding on.

About midnight we withdrew from our temporary trenches and marched about for the rest of the night, till at dawn we were permitted to snatch what sleep we could under a hedge. About the middle of the morning we were on the move again, to the north, and were soon swinging along through Vlamertinghe. About two miles out of that town we halted in a field. By this time we had joined up with the remainder of our Brigade. the i3th, and, after a meal had been served, we were ordered to dump our packs and fall in by companies. Here our Company. Commander, Captain Flemming, addressed us. "We are," he said, tired and weary men who would like to rest; however, there are men more weary than we who need our help. We may not have to do much; we may have to do a great deal. Whatever happens, fight like hell. I shall at any rate." A few moments more-then off we go again towards that incessant bombardment, which seemed to come closer every minute.

The Scottish Borderers led the Brigade, followed by the Royal West Kents, then ourselves-all with bayonets fixed, for we were told to be prepared to meet the Germans anywhere on the road.

We were now in the area of the ill-fated French Colonial Corps. Ambulances were everywhere, and the village of Brielen, through which we passed, was choked with wounded and gassed men. We were very mystified about this gas, and had no protection whatever against it.

Shortly after passing through Brielen we turned to the left down a road which led to the Canal, along the south side of which ran a steep spoil bank, and, as the head of our battalion reached this, we halted. We could see nothing of what went on on the other side, but knew by the rattle of musketry that there was something doing. So there was, for when we finally crossed the pontoon we found that the Jocks had met the Germans on the north bank and had bundled them helter-skelter up the slope to Pilckem. This saved us any dirty work for that day, so we spent the rest of it till midnight in carrying supplies and ammunition to the Jocks and Kents, and after-wards lay in reserve on the Canal bank. It froze hard that night, and after the sweating fatigue of carrying boxes of S.A.A. all night we were literally aching with cold.

All night there seemed to be a spasmodic bombardment all round the Salient.

Next morning about 12 o'clock the Adjutant, Captain Culme-Seymour, was chatting to Captain Flemming a few paces away from where I was lying, when up rushed a breathless despatch rider and handed him a message, which he read aloud to Flemming. I caught three words, "Things are critical." In about five minutes the Colonel had the battalion on the move. We moved off in double file by companies, our company leading; as we did so a big shell burst in the midst of "D" Company, making a fearful mess. We moved on quickly, like a gigantic serpent, with short halts now and then. As we skirted Ypres there was a roar of swift-moving thunder and a 17-inch shell, which seemed to be falling on top of us, burst a quarter of a mile away, covering us with dirt.

Over meadows and fields green with young crops which would never be harvested, past cows peacefully grazing that had had their last milking, we went, passing curiously unperturbed peasants, who watched us from the farms and cottages.

As we crossed the Roulers road a lone cavalryman came galloping down it, hatless and rolling in his saddle as though drunk. Some wag throws a ribald jest at him. He turns his ashy face towards us, and his saddle it seems is a mess of blood. Above us a Taube appears and, hovering over us, lets fall a cascade of glittering silver-like petals. A few moments more and shells begin to fall about us in quantities, and gaps begin to appear in our snake-like line.

We pass a field battery; it is not firing, as it has nothing to fire, and its commander sits weeping on the tail of one of his useless guns. We quicken our pace, but the shelling gets heavier. It seems to be raining shrapnel. Captain Fleraming falls, but struggles to his feet and waves us on with encouraging words. We double across a field, and in a few moments come on to the road again. Here was action indeed, for barely had we reached the road and started to work our way towards St. Julien, than we found ourselves amongst a crowd of Canadians of all regiments jumbled up anyhow, and apparently fighting a desperate rearguard action. They nearly all appeared to he wounded and were firing as hard as they could. A machine gun played down the road. Then comes an order: "Dig in on the roadside." We all scrambled into the ditch, which~, like all Flanders ditches, was full of black, liquid mud, and started to work with entrenching tools-a hopeless job. A woman was bringing jugs of water from a cottage a few yards away; evidently she had just completed her week's washing, for a line of garments fluttered in the garden.

"Dig I Dig for your lives !" shouts an officer. But, dig! How can we? 'Tis balers we need.

A detonation like thunder, and I inhale the filthy fumes of a 5.9 as I cringe against the muddy bank. The German heavies have got the road taped to an inch. Their last shell has pitched on our two M.G. teams, sheltering in the ditch on the other side of the road. They disappear, and all we can hear are groans so terrible they will haunt me for ever. Kennison, their officer, stares dazed, looking at a mass of blood and earth. Another crash, and the woman and her cottage and water jars vanish and her pitiful washing hangs in a mocking way from her sagging clothes line. A bunch of telephone wires falls about us. To my bemused brain this is a catastrophe in itself, and I curse a Canadian Sapper beside me for not attempting to mend them. He eyes me vacantly, for he is dead. More and more of these huge shells, two of them right in our midst. Shrieks of agony and groans all round me. I am splashed with blood. Surely I am hit, for my head feels as though a battering-ram has struck it. But no, I appear not to be, though all about me are bits of men and ghastly mixtures of khaki and blood.

The road becomes a perfect shambles. For perhaps half a minute a panic ensues, and we start to retire down the road. But not for long. Colonel Shipley stands in the centre of the road, blood streaming down his face. The gallant Flemming lies at his feet, and the Adjutant, Culme-Seymour, stands in a gateway calmly lighting a cigarette.

"Steady, my lads," says the Colonel. "Steady, the Vics Remember the regiment." The panic is ended.

"This way," says Seymour. "Follow me through this gate here." As we dash through the gate, I catch a glimpse of our M.O. working in an empty gun-pit like a butcher in his shop. Many were the lives he saved that day.

Once through the gate we charge madly across a field of young corn. Shrapnel and machine-gun bullets are cracking and hissing everywhere. Ahead of us is a large farm, and advancing upon it at almost right angles to ourselves is a dense mass of German infantry.

We are carrying four extra bandoliers of ammunition as well as the rest of our equipment. Shall I ever get there? My limbs ache with fatigue, and my legs are like lead. But the inspiring figure of Seymour urges us on, yet even he cannot prevent the thinning of our line or the gaps being torn in it by the German field gunners, whom we can now plainly see.

At last we reach the farm, and we follow Culme-Seymour round to its farther side. The roar of enemy machine guns rises to a crazy shrieking, but we are past caring about them, and with a sob of relief we fall into the farm's encircling trench. Not too soon, either, for that grey mass is only a few hundred yards off, and "Rapid fire! Let 'em have it, boys!" and don't we just! At last a target, and one that we cannot miss. The Germans fall in scores, and their batteries limbered up and away.

At last we have our revenge for the discomfort of the afternoon. But the enemy re-form and come on again, and we allow them to come a bit nearer, which they do. We fire till our rifles are almost too hot to hold, and the few survivors of our mad quarter of an hour stagger back. The attack has failed, and we have held them, and thank God that we have, for, as our next order tells us, "This line must be held at all costs. Our next is more big attacks, though the enemy set fire to the farm and nearly roasted us, though our numbers dwindled and we were foodless and sleepless, till, thirty-six hours later, we were relieved in a misty dawn, and crept back through burning Ypres for a few hours' respite."

First Gas Attack - From The Story of the Great War Vol:5

This account of the first gas attack at St. Julien on 22nd April 1915, is an overview from 'The Story of the Great War, Volume:5' at Project Gutenberg.

It describes the opening sequence of events of the second battle of Ypres.

BEGINNING OF SECOND BATTLE OF YPRES

What is called the second battle of Ypres began with a bombardment of the little city on April 20, 1915. The rain of shells continued on through April 22, 1915, on the evening of which the British
artillery observers reported a strange green vapor moving over the French trenches. The wind was blowing steadily from the northeast. Soon the French troops were staggering back from the front, blinded and choking from the deadly German gas. Many of their comrades had been unable to leave the spot where they were overtaken by the fumes. Those who fled in terror rushed madly across the canal, choking the road to Vlamertinghe. A part of the Zouaves and Turcos ran south toward the Langemarck road, finally reaching the reserve battalions of the Canadians. Ere long the Canadians caught the deadly odor also.

But the work of the gas did a much more valuable thing for the German troops than causing the agonizing death of many hundreds and sending thousands in headlong flight. It made a four-mile-wide opening in the front of the Allies. And the Germans were quick to take advantage of that opening. They followed the gas, and were aided in their advance by artillery fire. The French were forced back on the canal from Steenstraate to Boesinghe. The Canadians had not suffered so much from the gas as the French soldiers, but their flank was too exposed for them to do much effective work against the onrushing Teutons. The attempt to rally the Turcos failed. The Third Brigade could not withstand the attack of four divisions, and was forced inward from a point south of Poelcappelle until its left rested on the wood east of St. Julien. There was a gap beyond it, and the Germans were forcing their way around its flank. Because the entire First Brigade of Canadians had been held in reserve it could not be brought up in time to save the situation. Two of the battalions, the Sixteenth and Tenth, were in the gap by midnight. They charged and recovered the northern edge, and the guns of the Second London Division, which had been supporting the French in the wood east of St. Julien. But the British could not hold all they retook, and were forced to abandon the guns because the artillery horses were miles away. So parts of the guns were made useless before the Germans had them again.

Then another counterattack was made by the First and Fourth Ontarios of General Mercer's First Brigade. The Fourth Ontario captured the German shelter trenches and held them for two days, when they were relieved. The Third Canadian Brigade held its position in spite of being opposed by many times their numbers and almost overcome by the gas fumes. The Forty-eighth Highlanders, who had had to withstand the gas, rallied after their retreat and regained their former place in the front. The Royal Highlanders kept their original position. Yet there was every indication of a rout. The roads were clogged by the night supply trains going forward and the rush of men trying to escape from the deadly gas. The staff officers found it impossible to straighten out the tangle, and the various regiments had to act almost as independent bodies, It was not until early the following morning, April 23, 1915, that the first reinforcements of British soldiers appeared to fill the breach. These men, for the most part, were from the Twenty-eighth Division, and had been east of Zonnebeke to the southeast corner of Polygon Wood. So great was the pressure at the section where the break had been made in the line that troops were taken from wherever available, so that the units in the gap varied from day to day. For the men had to be returned to their original positions, such as remained available, as soon as possible. This composite body of troops has been called Geddes's Detachment.

The Germans had captured Lizerne and Het Sas, and Steenstraate was threatened by them. They bombarded with heavy artillery, located on the Passchendaele ridge, the front held by the Canadians, the Twenty-eighth Division, and Geddes's Detachment, on April 23, 1915. The severest fighting was on that part of the front held by the Third Brigade of Canadians. Many men had been killed or wounded in this brigade, and those who survived were ill from the effects of the gas. Furthermore, no food could be taken to them for twenty-four hours. Moreover, they were subjected to a fire from three sides, with the result that they were forced to a new position on a line running through St. Julien. Finally the Germans forced their way around to the left of the Third Brigade, establishing their machine guns behind it.

A terrific artillery attack was started by the Germans on the morning of April 24, 1915, and this was followed by a second rush of gas from their trenches. It rose in a cloud seven feet high and was making its attack on the British in two minutes after it started. It was thickest near the ground, being pumped from cylinders. And it worked with the same deadly effect. The Third Brigade, receiving its second attack of this sort before it had recovered from the first, retreated to the southwest of St. Julien, but soon after regained most of their lost position. The Second Brigade had to bend its left south. Colonel Lipsett's Eighth Battalion, however, held fast on the Grafenstafel ridge, remaining in their position two days in spite of the gas of which they got a plentiful supply.

By noon of April 24, 1915, the Germans made an attack on the village of St. Julien and that part of the allied front to the east of the village. Thereupon the Third Brigade retreated about 700 yards to a new front south of the village and north of the hamlet of Fortuin. But what remained of the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Battalions was forced by circumstances to remain in the St. Julien line until late that night. Colonel Lipsett's Eighth Battalion at Grafenstafel, in spite of its left being unsupported, held its position which was of great importance to the British front. For, had that part of the front been lost, the Germans in an hour could have worked their way back of the Twenty-eighth Division and the entire eastern sector.

In the meantime the French on the western section of the front made a counterattack from the canal with partial success; but were unable to drive the German troops from the sector entirely. The Teutons took Steenstraate; but their victory there was marred by the fact that the Belgian artillery smashed the bridge behind them. By this time the British reenforcements began to arrive in fairly large numbers. The Thirteenth Brigade of the Fifth Division was placed to the west of Geddes's Detachment, between the Pilkem road and the canal. Territorials who had arrived from England only three days before, the Durham and York Brigades of the Northumbrian Division, supported the Thirteenth Brigade. The Tenth Brigade of the Fourth
Division were rushed to support the Third Brigade of Canadians who were south of St. Julien. Other British troops were sent to relieve the tense situation at Grafenstafel.

An attempt to retake St. Julien was made early on Sunday morning, April 25, 1915, by General Hull's Tenth Brigade and two battalions of the Durham and York Brigade. The British worked their way to the few Canadians who had continued on the former front when the main British force had been driven back. There they were checked by the German machine gun fire. The British lost many men here and the efforts to save the day resulted in such a mixture of fighting
units that there were fifteen battalions under General Hull, as well as the Canadian artillery.

At Grafenstafel the Eighth Battalion of the Durham Brigade were bombarded with asphyxiating shells before the German infantry attack. The fighting on this section of the front was fierce throughout the afternoon, but finally the British were forced to retire. At Broodseinde, the extreme eastern point of the allied front, the Germans made a desperate attempt to take the salient, using asphyxiating and other bombs again and again on the men of the Twenty-eighth Division of the British. King George's men, however, repelled the attacks with severe loss to the Teutons, taking many prisoners.

The French on the left, beyond the Yperlee Canal, prevented the advance of the German troops; and, farther to the left, the Belgians checked three attacks in which asphyxiating gas was used, south of Dixmude. Thus it may be seen that the Germans had met with no success worth while, when Sunday, April 25, 1915, closed, so far as the ends of the salient were concerned; but in the center the British situation was so critical that the Second Canadian Brigade, reduced to less than 1,000 men, was once more called into action on the following day. On the same day, April 26, 1915, the Lahore Division of the Indian army was marched north of Ypres. The point of the salient was pushed in on that day at Broodseinde, but the German success there was short-lived. The brigade holding Grafenstafel was attacked fiercely by the Germans. The Durham Light Infantry was forced from Fortuin behind the Haanabeek River. The Teutons made several attacks from the St. Julien district against the section between the Yperlee Canal and the southern part of the village. By this time Geddes's Detachment was almost exhausted, they, with the Canadians, having withstood the heaviest fighting at the beginning of the battle; and most likely saved the Allies a most disastrous defeat. The detachment could stand no more, and the various units of which it was composed were returned to their respective commands.

But the salient was growing smaller as a result of the repeated hammering of the Germans; and that exposed the allied troops to a more deadly fire from three sides. It was evident that the Allies must make a counterattack. General Riddell's Brigade was sent to Fortuin and with the Lahore Division on its left was told to retake St. Julien and the woods to the west of the village. Beyond the Yperlee Canal, on the left, the French made an assault on Lizerne, supported by the Belgian artillery; while the French colonial soldiers poured on Pilkem from the sector about Boesinghe. On the right the allied troops were lined up as follows: the Connaught Rangers,
Fifty-seventh Wilde's Rifles, the Ferozepore Brigade, the 129th Baluchis, the Jullundur Brigade, and General Riddell's battalions. The Sirhind Brigade was held in reserve.

The German artillerymen apparently knew the distances and topography of the entire region and poured a leaden hail upon the allied troops. The Indians and the British in their immediate neighborhood charged in short rushes, losing many men in the attempt to reach the German
trenches. Before the Germans were in any danger of a hand-to-hand struggle, they sent one of their gas clouds from their trenches and the attack was abandoned, the British and Indians getting back to their trenches as best they could. In this action the British gave great praise to their comrades from India. Riddell's Brigade was stopped in its attack on St. Julien by wire entanglements; and, though the outlaying sections of St. Julien were captured, the brigade was unable to hold them; and the Germans continued to hold the woods west of the village. Nevertheless the British front had been pushed forward from 600 to 700 yards in some places.

By that night, the night of April 26, 1915, the allied front extended from the north of Zonnebeke to the eastern boundary of the Grafenstafel ridge; thence southwest along the southern side of the Haanabeek to a point a half mile east of St. Julien; thence, bending around that village, it ran to Vamhuele--called the "shell trap"--farm on the Ypres-Poelcappelle road. Next it proceeded to Boesinghe and crossed the Yperlee Canal, passing northward of Lizerne after which were the French and the Belgians.

The work of the allied aviators on April 26, 1915, deserves more than passing consideration in the record of that day's fighting. They dropped bombs on the stations of Courtrai, Roubaix, Thielt, and Staden. They discovered near Langemarck an armored train with the result that it was shelled and thus forced to return. And they forced a German aviator to the ground at Roulers.

The Lahore Division with the French on their left attacked the Germans on April 27, 1915, but they met with little success because of the gas which the Teutons sent into the ranks of the attacking party. But the German troops had lost so heavily that they did not seem to be inclined to follow up their apparent advantage. Incidentally the Allies needed a rest as well. Hence there was little fighting the next two days. On April 30, 1915, however, General Putz attacked the Germans with so much force that they were hurled back an appreciable distance near Pilkem. Seven machine guns and 200 prisoners were taken, and the 214th, 215th, and 216th German regiments lost more than 1,000 men. On the same day the London Rifle Brigade, further east, drove back a German forward movement from St. Julien.

West of the Yperlee Canal, however, it soon became known to the commanders of the allied forces that the Germans were in such a strong position that it would be impossible to dislodge their enemy until much greater preparations had been made. In the meantime the communications of the Allies were in danger. Hence Sir John French on May 1, 1915, ordered Sir Herbert Plumer to retreat. The wisdom of this order, the execution of which contracted the southern portion of the salient, was seen when the Germans again attempted to force their way through the allied front by the use of gas. The attempt this time was made between Zonnebeke, on the Ypres-Roulers railroad, and Boesinghe on the Yperlee Canal on Sunday, May 2, 1915. Though the British had been supplied with respirators of a sort, these means of defense were not as effective as they should have been nor as adequate as what was provided later. The Germans, however, suffered large losses in this attack because, as soon as the wall of gas began to approach the British trenches, the men there fired into it, well knowing from past experience that the Germans were following the gas. In this manner many of the Teutons were slain. The Allies adopted other tactics which were quite as effective. On seeing the gas approaching, the soldiers in some parts of the line proceeded to execute a flank movement, thereby getting away from the gas and subjecting the Germans to a deadly fire from a direction least expected.

Between Fortuin and Zonnebeke and south of St. Julien the allied line broke, but the supports with two cavalry regiments were rushed from Potijze, a mile and a half from Ypres on the Zonnebeke Road, and regained the lost ground. By night the Germans decided to discontinue their attempt to advance and left their dead and wounded on the field.

The Canadian Memorial, St. Julien, Belgium.

The Canadian Memorial stands in Saint Julien Wood, a section of forested land in Belgium, near Langemark at the north east of the Ypres Salient. During World War I, the location was known as 'Vancouver Corner'. Kitchener's Wood is close by.

The memorial stands 11 metres tall and is visable for miles around. It rises from a flagstoned terrace, carved to form the bowed head and shoulders of a Canadian soldier, his hands resting on his reversed rifle. It is surrounded by tall cedars trimmed into cones to complement the granite shaft.




On 22nd & 23rd April 1915, the 5th, 8th, 10th and 15th Battalions of the 2nd Brigade of the Canadian Expeditionary Force, became the first units of the British Army to experience a German chlorine gas attack, at the beginning of the Second Battle of Ypres.




Out of the 816 Canadian soldiers from 10th Battalion C.E.F, who were to the right of the British forces, 623 of them lay dead by the end of 23rd April. They were buried where they fell.

The Franco-Belgian Cross, Steenstraat, Belgium.

The Franco-Belgian Cross near Steenstrat remembers the first poison gas attack on 22nd April 1915.

This 15 metre high aluminium cross is a replacement for the original memorial showing soldiers being asphyxiated by the gas. This was destroyed by the Germans during the Second World War.

The cross was made by the architects Paul Tournon and Pierre Devillers in 1961.

The inscription around the base of the monument gives the Regiments involved in the fighting in the area by both French and Belgian Forces, and in particular those who were subjected to the first gas attack on 22nd April 1915.