Volume 25 www.legionnl.com 37 Newfoundland Labrador Command continued ... some smoke bombs. As we began our attack again the Newfoundlanders were in the lead. It was a beautiful morning, the sun was shining, as bright and clear as were wars and death so very far away. We marched down the slope towards the foot of the hill on which stood the village of Passchendaele and passed this village about a mile to the right. We now became in ‘extended order' and as we passed on, for the first half mile or so it appeared to be only a ‘sham fight'. But, on nearing the bottom of the valley, there suddenly burst from Keiberg Ridge in front of us a terrific storm of machine gun fire. In the blinking of an eye, some twenty fell from that shower of bullets, most never to rise again. It was here that one of our Officers, Lieut. L.T. Duley, fell with a bullet through the right thigh, which had cut the main artery and, in a few minutes, his life was gone. Sergeant S. Murray also fell there beside a hedge, shot through the mouth. Being a stretcher bearer, I had to get busy although there was plenty of lead flying, and some would whistle so near that I would duck my head. I had spent some eleven months dodging Fritz's bullets, and had become well accustomed to it so that at times I would stoop unawares that such were conscious action. It was not long before we were free from bullets as our boys had rushed the hill where the machine guns were and the Germans had given way and retreated further back. Meanwhile we had to carry the wounded about a mile and a half and by the time we had made twenty trips back and forth the day was dragging and well spent. At times we would take up a poor fellow, and after carrying him for a while, he would appear to be getting much heavier. On putting him down we would find that the spark of life had fled, whereupon we would lift him off the stretcher and go back to look for another wounded. We could do nothing for a man who was dead, save to bury him. And that had to wait until all the wounded were picked up. While three other men and myself were caring for the wounded, our Company had been driving the Germans back. The wounded now having been taken back to the nearest 'dressing station', we set out to look for our Company midst the driving rain. We were feeling very miserable! As the shades of night began to fall, we once again found our Company and reported ourselves. We spent the night in a hole dug in the side of a bank with the wind about east and a cold rain falling all through the night. Long before dawn we had to keep knocking about to keep life in ourselves. Another Regiment having gone before us, we took shelter from the rain in an old barn. We enjoyed this as much as any king might enjoy his palace. We spent the night there, and next morning we began to move up toward the front line again. This was the first day of October. About midnight we relieved the Royal Scots around the village of Ledeghem. It was as dark as the grave! There was not much doing, just an occasional shell to let us know that the enemy was still in front of us. Every now and then a few bullets would whistle by. At last day came and everything remained quiet. About twenty of us took refuge or cover from the airplanes in corrugated iron huts and we took turns keeping watch. Quiet having set in, some of the boys slept. At four p.m., I awoke my buddy and suggested we might share our only tin of 'bully beef'. After lunch I stood up, fixed my box-respirator on my chest, and stooped to pick up my knife that I had used to open the tin of meat. I reached for that knife with my left hand. Why I did so I can never explain, as my right hand was always first for everything. As it turned out that gesture saved my life! I never got to the knife, as just then a terrific barrage of shells landed dead centre upon our position and a 'nosecap' from a shell about four inches in diameter tore through the side of our hut. Being, as I have said, in a stooping position, the shell missed my helmet by a fraction of an inch, and it struck the back of my right hand, tearing away my third and fourth fingers and stopped at the front of my right thigh. At first I thought that the shell had come through from behind and I straightened up with a jerk saying, "that's done it". I grabbed at the piece of shell and tried to remove it but found that a scrimp from the end of the nosecap had gone deep in the thigh. Following a second attempt at removal, and, with a stronger pull, it was brought clear, leaving a gaping hole. After a little while I sat up, and until then I had not noticed my hand. I guess it bad been beaten numb. My greatest concern was for my thigh, as I was not sure whether the artery had been severed or not. A brief examination satisfied me that it was not. Now I turned my attention to my hand. I brushed what mud continued ...
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