"One chill Easter dawn in 1917, a blizzard blowing in their faces, the four divisions of the Canadian Corps in France went over the top of a muddy scarp knows as Vimy Ridge. Within hours, they held in their grasp what had eluded both British and French armies in over two years of fighting: they had seized the best-defended German bastion on the Western Front.
How could an army of civilians from a nation with no military tradition secure the first enduring victory in thirty-two months of warfare with only 10,000 casualties, when the French had lost 150,000 men in their unsuccessful attempt? Pierre Berton's haunting and lucid narrative shows how, unfettered by military rules, civilians used daring and common sense to overcome obstacles that had eluded the professionals."
Location: Chiefs Kingdom, Yankees Universe, C of Red.
Exp:
I visited Vimy Ridge back in November of 2008. Had the monument all to myself. It started to snow as a tour guide wandered up to ask me if I had any questions. He pointed out that it was very rare to see snow on the ridge. I thought, typical, the one day (maybe the only day) I come to visit it fricking snows. Then I realized that it also snowed on the morning of the attack. Made the experience a little more surreal.
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Yeah, I was early to mid 2000's. I did St. Julien with a really enthusiastic tour guide who really knew his stuff. He teared up a bit when I told him that I was an ex Calgary Highlander and that being at St. Julien meant a lot to me.
I did not get to Walcheren, but I plan to someday.
The Following User Says Thank You to worth For This Useful Post:
Yeah, I was early to mid 2000's. I did St. Julien with a really enthusiastic tour guide who really knew his stuff. He teared up a bit when I told him that I was an ex Calgary Highlander and that being at St. Julien meant a lot to me.
I did not get to Walcheren, but I plan to someday.
Spoiler!
Quote:
Five hundred yards to the front, a black silhouette stood Outlined by the flickering gunfire; St. Julien Wood. The land between had been blasted and shattered and raped And, concealed between black, smoking craters, the gates of Hell gaped. Canadian soldiers stood, waiting for word to advance, Their minds drinking in this grim vision of beautiful France While their ears cringed in mental discomfort and physical pain At the noise of the barrage that screamed around Ypres again. The time came, and they moved out, advancing in alternate waves Each two companies strong; each one moving as water behaves, Flowing forward in silence to find its own level, around All the upflung confusion of shell-tortured, treacherous ground. In spite of the darkness of midnight, the going was good So that, still undetected, their front rank came close to the Wood Until, just as the forest developed a visible edge, They ran into the French farmer's border - a strong, healthy hedge! What to do? There was no way around it, and time was their foe Just as much as the Germans: smash through; there's nowhere else to go. So they tried, and they died, row on row, as though caught in barbed wire As the enemy, startled alert, laid down murderous fire. Decimated - each tenth man laid dead - was a word coined in Rome, And the Tenth would have happily settled for that, and gone home, But the hedge all around them confined them, and try as they would, They had no way but forward to go ... To St. Julien Wood. They were out of the hedge now and into the enemy trench Swinging bayonet and rifle butt, covered in mud, blood and stench, And they out of the trench and on, up to the edge of the trees Where the enemy, hidden by tree trunks, could snipe them with ease. But the surging Canucks were demented by now -- men possessed By one single and burning incentive -- to clean out this nest Of demonic and venomous hornets; this devil-spawned brood Who were trying to stop them from taking St. Julien Wood. And the Hun staggered backwards, his dead lying heaped on the ground; Hundred tried to surrender, appalled by the fury they'd found In these madmen who fought like blind Furies unleased by the gods Coming forward, and winning, in face of incredible odds! But then, somehow, the stunned German infantry rallied again And perceived that the demons who tore at them really were men, And from enfilade points they set up a new withering fire That would force these Canadian berserkers to stop and retire. Those first three hellish hours dragged on to become sixty four; Almost three solid days of exhaustion, gas, gunfire and gore, And only one hundred of eight hundred and sixteen men Came back out of St. Julien Wood into sunlight again. What they did in that wood, amid carnage and slaughter and strife, Moved their General to say that the thing he most prized in his life Was the "Canada" armlet displayed with such pride on his sleeve, And the honour he felt just to know what his men had achieved. Refrain For, as machine guns spewed at them And shellfire chewed at them The tired survivors had no water and no food Because for sixty hours They'd defied the powers Of the Kaiser's crack battalions at St. Julien Wood. The place had been the test of them; It saw the best of them Blown into glory in the battle's bitter feud, And the oak leaf medallion Of the Tenth Battalion Is the symbol of its glory at St. Julien Wood. Loud sing the bugles that sound in November, Calling the Living to pause and remember Arthur; Lowry; Ormond; Boyle; Comrades resting after battle's toil. So when the mess kit's sparkling And the pibroch's darkling Melody brings gooseflesh and a tingling in the blood You know the rank and file and Brethren of the Highlanders Are reliving the Glory of St. Julien Wood.
only 193 survived
I also have my own "fields" to visit.
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Captain James P. DeCOSTE, CD, 18 Sep 1993
I've posted this before in another thread but this on is much more suitable.
This (Lighter case) was fabricated by my Grandfather at Vimy, Inscribed using his bayonet. He was one of the fortunate souls who was able to return to Canada in one piece after the war.
Last edited by Methanolic; 04-09-2013 at 12:56 PM.
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Vimy Ridge
