Canada in World War I - Part 8: Amiens and the Push to the End

The Americans would just be entering the war and
thus not yet prepared to fight, meaning lovely
propaganda posters like this would just be
beginning to surface. As a side-note, women depicted
in art pre-1930s have a terrible time keeping dresses
above stomach level.

In early 1918 things were looking bleak. The French were on the road back from army-wide mutiny, Russia was all but gone, the Italians were resorting to mass executions to keep their men in line, America had declared war but had not yet come over in force, and the Germans were planning a massive offensive to end the war against the British who at this point have exhausted themselves. (Canada, meanwhile, was holding on.) Coming at them in March with 4,000,000 men in 200 divisions, the paradoxically named German Peace Offensive stormed through the western front in a style that would remind those looking back on it of the World War II blitzkrieg. Attacking far into enemy lines with pure force and speed, half of the losses of the allied armies were surrenders due to the overwhelming pressure of the German assault.

There's a problem with taking so much territory, however. Once you take it, you have to defend it, and defending that much territory severely stretches your already thin and tired forces to the breaking point. By April the German push halted, giving the war a distinctly different aesthetic. They were no longer fighting over completely torn to pieces, already destroyed plots of trenches as far as the eye could see. The distance they travelled was far enough into friendly lines that open area was the new arena of warfare, which brought with it a number of challenges and opportunities. Tanks, vehicles and horses of all things (notably anachronistic being beside massive, modern killing machines such as tanks) became more common as the field opened up to them. At one point the Canadian cavalry division led a full charge into the enemy ranks, brandishing swords in an attempt to scare away the Germans. It worked, surprisingly, for a short time before they discovered that there are two strong counters to men on horseback; medieval pikemen and machine gun encampments. The Germans smartly used the latter. 

In one of the greatest "a picture says a thousand words"
photographs, French sword-wielding horsemen watch
a plane overhead. Specifically, three of those
words were likely "je suis obsolète!"

With the German army stretched, the Canadians, along with the allied powers, were called upon to counter attack. They set their targets on Amiens, an important railway junction somewhat near Paris. 300,000 allied troops, filled with the colonial powers of Australia and Canada, attacked on August 8th. It was a particularly foggy day, which meant the increased possibility of friendly fire but also the opportunity to sneak up on machine gun nests from behind. As if war wasn't terrifying enough, some atmospheric fog made it all the worse.

168 tanks were also issued to help the cause, reminding everyone that no matter where you are on the battlefield, you're far from safe. Poorly ventilated and excessively hot, the tanks would clatter through the battlefield as massive artillery targets. Only somewhat bullet proof, men inside would wear what would look comically like medieval chainmail (goes well with the horses, I suppose) to deflect the small, shattered bullet fragments and pieces of metal that would occasionally pierce the outside. Many of the operations would have literally a 100% casualty rate for the tank operators, meaning that even inside a giant metal death machine, your chances of survival are decidedly slim. Even then, I'd still take the tanks over being on horseback, ordered to "hit the gap" when the German ranks would begin to break. It's interesting to note that in this battle we would have infantry, artillery, tanks, horses, reconnaissance planes and even a few vehicles driving around. It was a true army, composed of a number of individual pieces.

A depiction of Amiens. Here, rather than at Passchendaele,
you got to be killed with a rather pretty view.

The combined might of these pieces proved successful against the weakened Germans, pushing them back, allowing the allied forces to step deep into the German lines after the taking of Amiens (the Canadians, seemingly as always, pushed the furthest). However, justifiably fearful of overextending themselves much the way the Germans had, they held up their assault and slowed it down. The next several months, with Amiens marking the beginning, was called the Hundred Days Offensive. Pushing from trench line to trench line, they slowly progressed through the territory, finally breaking the enemy but losing lives with every step. The German army fought ferociously, but morale was destroyed and the core of the army was all but gone. Both sides knew that peace was on the horizon, with every soldier hoping they wouldn't be the last to be killed. More often caution was employed by the attacking forces.

By early November the soldiers, Canadian and otherwise, were marching through farms and towns with roads lined with cheering civilians. While certainly a stark contrast to their previous battlefields, towns and picturesque landscapes could cause complacency, and ambushes were incredibly dangerous. Those German forces that would hold out and not surrender, especially so close to the end of the war, were afforded little mercy when finally defeated.

Canadians with a tank escort. Hmm. When I thought of "World War I tanks", I
wasn't thinking of something quite so... dumpy. Perhaps it's one of the
"Mark V Historical Disappointment Class" tanks.

The final fight for the Canadians would take place in Mons, a controversial assault point because the Canadians would lose many in the final few days of the war (November 7-10, to be exact). It was seen as a pointless endeavour, and with the war ceasing on the 11th, those that came so close to surviving the war only to be killed in a last, ultimately useless push were terrible losses indeed. All told, the Hundred Days Campaign would take a brutal toll on the Canadians. With 45,835 casualties, a full 1/8th of the BEF while holding only 1/15th of the population of it, the Canadians served above and beyond what was expected of them. In a sense, they paid the price for being one of the few that didn't have widespread mutiny issues or collapsed morale. The thanks they would get was having to fight as a result. For the Canadians the end of the war was more than welcome, and certainly well earned.

Ten million were killed with 15-20 million injured in World War I. Our small country of Canada, with only 7.5 million people at the beginning of the war, sent a full 420,000 oversees. Around 60,000 would be killed or die due to complications of wartime injuries. Another 173,000 were wounded.

So what is the legacy for World War I in Canada? Well, sadly, it's in many ways a bit of an oversight. The first war doesn't feel as "good vs. evil" as does its successor, with nazi uniforms and ideologies that are so outright villainous that it paints a perfect narrative. The second war was larger, as well, with greater loss of life, and being the second brings it closer to modern history. But for Canada, the war meant something extremely important; it essentially made us a nation, through blood and iron while charging up the hill of Vimy or plowing through the mud at Passchendaele and the Somme. We gained the admiration and recognition of not only our mother country of Britain but both our allies and enemies in the war through our valour and fighting prowess. Through tremendous loss we came out of the ashes not a piece of Britain but a full-fledged sovereign nation, distinctly our own.

So what is the legacy for World War I in Canada? It made Canada. Even if we don't appreciate it the way we should, the war was an integral piece of the forging of our nation.

Man, I think I'm going to go buy a flag.

____________________________________

The information for this (admittedly exceedingly long) blog series came from a two-part set of books by Tim Cook. In spite of their length, they're exceptionally written, thoroughly detailed accounts that in spite of the sheer volume of information are surprisingly readable. The first is At the Sharp End, and the second is Shock Troops. I would recommend them to any Canadian, especially those with an interest in our history.

Just be ready for a long read.

Canada in World War I - Part 7: Passchendaele

After Vimy Ridge, the Canadians revelled in the joy of having made a name for themselves. Pound for pound, they were some of the best there were, and whatever was placed in front of them seemed to quickly fall by the wayside. That's a positive and a negative; winning is nice, but being an effective fighting force in a war means that you're certain to be fighting again soon. Once again, in August, the Canadians found themselves shooting it out in yet another bloody, noxious, muddy battleground fraught with human misery. The difference is this time it was called Hill 70, and later, Passchendaele.

Initially, attacking Hill 70 was a means to protect the British troops that were attacking Passchendaele, a short distance away. The Canadians' goal was to draw the Germans there to avoid them overwhelming the British elsewhere. It was important for both sides, as the British army wouldn't be able to hold off the additional reinforcements against them and the Germans desperately needed more men at the front. A successful Canadian assault would cripple them.

Passchendaele is sitting at a 36% rating
on Rotten Tomatoes, 12% higher
than the soldiers gave the battle itself.

After a heavy creeping barrage, they took Hill 70 near the small city of Lens, but wouldn't take the city itself as fighting in an urban setting was an entirely different ballpark and one the Canadians were inexperienced with. Their plan was to dig in, hold the hill, and bide their time away from the city. The Germans weren't too happy with that. With the plan in mind to simply overwhelm the Canadians, the Germans retaliated on August 15th. Contrary to the more intelligent fighting towards the middle and end of the war, the Germans attempted to defeat the well situated Canadians fighting in open ground with machine guns with wave after wave of hastily planned attacks. It worked for Zapp Brannigan in Futurama, but not for them. By the 18th, when they finally halted the assault, the Germans had 20,000 casualties to the Canadian 5,600.

That isn't to say it was a total success, however; the Germans employed a new and terrifying weapon, one that always becomes a talking point when mentioning World War I. Moving beyond the old ways of gassing the enemy, the German force began the use of mustard gas. It was a brutal, terrible weapon. The gas would stay in shell craters for much longer than the previous concoctions, and would kill a man at a much slower pace. It would begin with a slight smell of mustard, leading to a tendency to sneeze. Similar to how it is in movies, a cough would be a sure sign that death was on its way. Many of the bravest Canadians, artillery men knowing they had ingested mustard gas and well aware that their time was sure to be up soon, removed their respirators to more effectively fire the heavy weapons supporting the infantry, removing any chance at recovery for the sake of their fellow troops. True, unsung heroes.

"Walk the plank! Haha! Yarr! Get it?"
"Bill, stop..."

Anyways, I digress. Even after having lost to many, the Germans still held the city of Lens. The problem the Canadians had was that fighting in a city with even numbers is exceedingly difficult as it's basically asking to get ambushed at the end of every street or entrance to a building. They also held a strong, underground city, which the Canadians also didn't know how to fight in effectively, and taking it would cost the lives of far too many. However, in traditional WW1 fashion, they would give it a go anyway with the first attempt on it ending in a grim bayonet melee between both sides. While the Canadians took ground, they retreated knowing they likely wouldn't be able to hold it. It was said that the bodies were so many that it was difficult to tell who won. Honestly, if that's how the battlefield looks afterwards, I believe it's safe to answer "neither."

At this point, with 20/20 retrospective vision, it would have been wise to retreat and head out. They held the high ground, the Germans weren't relinquishing the city, and they could have just bombarded it. However, rather foolishly, the Canadians continued the assault on the city and found themselves in an awful situation. Surrounded by machine gun fire, finding artillery coordination difficult, and fighting against a well protected, dug in, and especially after the past few battles, fury-filled German army, they were getting chopped down left right and centre. A few days later, they would back out licking their wounds and deciding against trying to take it once more. While everything had gone well up until that point, they overplayed their hand and lost much of what they had gained. Nevertheless, they brought two reserve divisions away from Passchendaele which was ultimately what they set out to do. If this was a victory, and I believe it was, it was only a partial one. It was the second largest campaign thus far, second only to Vimy.

After finishing up at Hill 70, the Canadians moved to help the British and Australian forces that were in severe trouble over at Passchendaele, the place they had been protecting from reinforcements. In only 10 kilometres the allies had suffered 200,000 casualties in what was some of the worst fighting conditions imaginable (more on that in a moment).

If ever there was a picture that embodies how awful
the fighting conditions were in WW1, it's this. I wonder
if the soldiers sent this home as a postcard. "Europe
is nice, but I was hoping for more sun."

Currie was told he was to take his troops to Flanders. (If you're thinking this is where In Flanders Fields was written, you're right, but your timing is off. Passchendaele is once again a return to the Ypres Salient, the third time there has been a major battle there since the beginning of the war. In Flanders Fields was written just after the second bout.) Upon hearing this news, Currie was irate. He told them they could "rot in it" and that it "isn't worth a drop of blood", but Douglas Haig, the British commander, outranked him and demanded he go. It was especially important to Haig who believed he may lose his job if this mission was unsuccessful. Frustrated and angry at having to sacrifice more of his men in a place that hardly seemed worth fighting over, Currie predicted it would cost 16,000 men, which would prove to be darn near close to accurate.

So, the conditions. Half the artillery was wrecked through either the effects of extreme overuse or becoming so locked in the mud it was immobile. The mud and water in the shell craters was so extreme they had to lay out roads and boards just to cross the swamp to bring in supplies and more soldiers, a task that cost the lives of 1,500 as they were bombed while constructing it. It was so muddy that soldiers would fall into shell holes to avoid... well, shells that were in the process of making craters, and they would simply drown as they couldn't fight their way out of the muck. Many times men would disappear as no one would know where they would go as they would have to build these in darkness to avoid being easy targets.

"World War I isn't pulling in the level of torment we were
hoping it would," sighs the German command. "Perhaps
we can add something to make it more brutal." He snaps
his fingers. "I've got it! Flamethrowers!"

While they had six weeks to plan for Hill 70, they had only fourteen days for Passchendaele. On October 26th, they followed their plan of the creeping barrage, except this time only fifty metres at a time due to the conditions, which still outpaced the hamstrung and beleaguered frontline soldiers. It was a  moderate success, one that took out many key positions, but a brutal one that cost 3,000 casualties. Many that were shot drowned in the mud and water.

On October 30th they would return, part of a larger offensive in which the Canadians would spearhead. Once more they would push forward, with the 72nd Battalion performing a ridiculously aggressive push on a defensive fortification that was caught unawares as they believed the swamp would protect them. Haig, traditionally not overly friendly to Canadian forces, called it "a feat of arms which would go down in the annals of British history as one of the greatest achievements of a single unit." A lovely quote, but I wish he said "memory" instead of "annals". Annals is just an awful word.

They would have one final push on November 6th that would last until the 10th. The element of surprise was lost due to a Canadian soldier accidentally wandering into a German camp (apparently this was easier than one might expect) and was coerced into giving up the attack plans. Nevertheless, at great cost they would take the ridge around Passchendaele and call off the assault. The legacy was another Canadian victory, but at the cost of countless soldiers, with those surviving suffering mentally due to the tremendous strain of fighting on such a terrible battlefield. Many of the soldiers blamed Currie for the seemingly pointless destruction of their forces, but to be fair, Currie always argued for more guns, artillery, soldiers and time. The problem was he wasn't the head of the operation, and he wouldn't always get his way.

Passchendaele would be another drop in the increasingly bloody bucket. In many ways, it embodied everything that was awful about World War I. Bloody, muddy conditions, seemingly endless fighting, an incredibly high death toll, the absolute savage destruction of a landscape, and all of it ultimately over a rather insignificant piece of land.