Its most gallant
commanding officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Burchill, carrying, after an old
fashion, a light cane, coolly and cheerfully rallied his men and, at the
very moment when his example had infected them, fell dead at the head of
his battalion. With a hoarse cry of anger they sprang forward (for,
indeed they loved him), as if to avenge his death. The astonishing
attack which followed--pushed home in the face of direct frontal fire
made in broad daylight by battalions whose names should live forever in
the memories of soldiers--was carried to the front line of the German
trenches. After a hand-to-hand struggle the last German who resisted was
bayoneted, and the trench was won.
The measure of this success may be taken when it is pointed out that
this trench represented in the German advance the apex in the breach
which the enemy had made in the original line of the Allies, and that it
was two and a half miles south of that line. This charge, made by men
who looked death indifferently in the face (for no man who took part in
it could think that he was likely to live) saved, and that was much, the
Canadian left. But it did more. Up to the point where the assailants
conquered, or died, it secured and maintained during the most critical
moment of all the integrity of the allied line.
Pages:
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573