Throughout 1917, Johnston fought with the 14th Canadian Machine Gun Company as part of the 2nd Canadian Division in several of the Canadian Corps’ major offensives, beginning in April with the attack on Vimy Ridge. The opening barrage was provided by 938 guns and mortars of various calibres, supplemented by continuous fire from 150 machine guns from Canadian and British machine gun companies. According to the official history of the Corps, “This employment of machine guns for barrage and supporting fire was on a scale unprecedented in military history” (Nicholson, page 253).
In August, Johnston participated in the assault on Hill 70, which the Canadians seized in order to open the way to Lens. Then, in a hard-fought battle over the next several days, they used artillery and machine guns to turn back twenty-one counterattacks and inflict heavy losses on the Germans. Between August 15 and 23, the 14th C.M.G. Company fired a total of 940,000 rounds of ammunition, placing heavy demands on the transport section for resupply. On August 16, pack horses carried 160,000 rounds of small arms ammunition from the reserve dump to the battery positions. During the night of August 17-18, another 500,000 rounds were delivered.
In October, 1917, Johnston travelled north to the Ypres Salient, where, in early November, he endured the ghastly conditions of the Battle of Passchendaele.
Good Friday was on April 6 this year, and we were all up the line with guns and ammunition. The weather was still cold and wet. We did not know what time the big drive was going to come off, but knew it was not to be too long now, as there could not be too much room up front for more guns, ammunition, etc.
We had been moving equipment up every night for months now, and there were a lot of troops everywhere. We made only one more trip up to Neuville St. Vaast after Good Friday. On Easter Sunday, you did not have to be told that the time was about here, as the atmosphere seemed to be charged and ready to explode. As the transport would not be going over the morning of the drive, we all climbed out early and waited and watched. About five-thirty a.m., a big gun fired and within five seconds the whole front opened up. It was terrific. It was the first all out barrage I had seen to date. I knew it was something extra, but did not know at the time that it was the heaviest concentrated fire since the first of the war. It was impossible to hear anyone talking and the whole front was lighted up as at a large fire. This kept up most of the day.
It was Easter Monday and snowed quite heavily in the forenoon. Very shortly, casualties started coming back, but not so heavy as we expected on the first day. If I remember rightly now, we did not go too far with the horses until the next morning. The engineers soon had a sort of corduroy road laid through the shell holes, which helped a lot getting the limbers along. I think it was the second morning when we first went over the ridge with packhorses and it was quite a mess.
After the first surprise, the Germans soon had our range again, and as we were now in their territory they knew all the good targets. Over on their side of the ridge, they had a wonderful layout of dugouts, some of them thirty feet deep. Of course when we took them they were no good to us, as their shelling them would go right into the dugouts.
I remember following an old road at the foot of the ridge in front of those dugouts and he was shelling quite hard then. Our convoy was held up for a short while and it seemed as though one gun, about a 3.9, was aiming directly at me. We had ammunition on our horses that day, one box on each side of the pack saddles, and I can remember getting my head down behind one of these boxes of ammunition, and standing there counting thirteen shells landing at about eight seconds apart. I do not know why I counted them or for that matter why I would get my head down behind a box of live ammunition, but a person has funny ideas sometimes. I guess the horse had the same idea, as he just rounded up and stood real still. There was no place to go anyway. Once more we decided they did not have our number. A good friend of mine got wounded on the ninth and died on the eleventh of April.
We stayed on the Vimy front until June 1, 1917, and then moved back to Gouy-Servins for a rest. We spent a very good month around here and it was certainly the best time we had of all our trip to France. We came far enough back that the shelling did not bother us and we had a considerable amount of freedom. The Dumbbells were there to entertain us and I was fortunate in seeing them at two performances. The original show was really good.
I remember one night we were out and dug a mess of potatoes and had them fried about ten o’clock. We had a blacksmith’s forge for a fire and got some grease from the cook tent to fry them in. They were certainly good. As long as we could keep the fire from showing to the planes where we were it was OK. On the third night the cook was away and I went to the tent to get the grease. I pawed around in the dark and found the big can the grease was in. I lit a match to see if I had the right can and it was alive with maggots. This is what we had been using for cooking and thought it tasted great. We baked our potatoes and made sure that fellow did no more cooking. I guess the fellow was right when he said that in the army, they always put the blacksmiths as cooks.
At another place we were out alone (our machine gun transport) at an old abandoned farm, a long way from anyone else, and we got separated from our outfit for a couple of days without rations. The second day we took stock and all we had was about ten pounds of rice and a two-pound can of raspberry jam. One of the fellows said he had been a cook once and would cook it for us. He got the rice about half cooked and dumped in the raspberry jam. I cannot remember when I ever tasted anything that was quite so sickening as that. That was certainly another cook out of a job. It was a long time before I could stomach rice again.
About the middle of August, 1917 [August 15], we made a drive and captured Hill 70 and worked our way forward towards Lens. We stayed on this front for some time, with enough trouble to keep us busy.
While on one of our rest periods, I was detailed to go to Bruay for three barrels of beer. It was a day’s trip with the team. I can remember on the way back stopping at a pond and having a swim. It certainly felt good, as having a bath was a very rare occasion.
The next day we had an inspection and were paid sixty francs ($12) and we certainly felt flush again. Once again, we began to feel like living and quite brave. We had a large marquee tent in which we could have a show in the evenings. About the third night, the tent was full and the gas alert sounded. They had come over and dropped a couple of gas bombs. Most of us had left our gas masks in our tents, and we certainly called off the show in a hurry and headed for the horse lines. We were supposed to have our gas masks on at all times.
We were also issued with gas masks for our horses. The war did not last long enough for me to learn how to put one on properly, so I never used one. I always figured when you smelled gas the wise thing to do was try and get the horses through it or away from it. I tried a couple of times to get one on, and almost missed out on it and got too much of the stuff. I well remember coming out of a front at one time when the gas was quite bad. It was practically all tear gas we got, but when we arrived back for rest and the next day lined up for pay, there were not a half dozen out of our company of about one hundred and twenty-five that could say their names. It certainly filled your throat, eyes and head up. The mustard gas was certainly terrible stuff, if a fellow got a good whiff of it. I remember seeing a fellow die of it in hospital while I was there in Boulogne and it was hard to forget. As the mustard gas was heavier than air, it would lay in the bottom of a trench or shell hole, and even a burn from it was dangerous. Mustard gas had a real nice smell, exactly the same as if you were opening a can of pineapple.
Canadian officer and horse wearing gas masks. NAC/PA-005001
Some short time after this, we left this front and headed for Passchendaele. On the way up we stopped off for about four days and during this time we had Corps sports. Practically the whole Canadian Corps was there and we had a very good day. Billy Bishop, our ace fighter, was there and gave us a demonstration of flying, diving and ground strafing, which was worth seeing. He would come down so low over the crowd’s heads that everyone would fall to the ground.
Three of us, Danny Nicholson (Nick), Bill Barkley (Guy) and myself, had been running a Crown and Anchor game for some time previous to this and were always quite flush with change. We had quite a game the night before the sports program and there were a lot of broke soldiers the next morning. We decided we would lend any of the boys money that needed it and not keep any books or records. It was a lot of fun, but we never got most of the money back.
A couple of days later we got paid and of course we started up another game. I was running the board (which of course was illegal) and the sergeant came along and reported me to the C.O. The C.O. sent for me and told me to turn the board in. The sergeant used to run the game himself once in a while and did not want us to horn in on his racket. There was a muster parade that afternoon and the C.O. spoke about gambling and said he wanted no more of it. We used to go in an estaminet (civilian canteen) each day at noon and perhaps have a glass or two of beer. The next day I was checked up on while we were in there. The place was full and just to show off the same sergeant pulled a set of dice out of his pocket and shook them on the table. A fellow near him put a couple of pennies down for a bet, only as a joke, and the orderly officer walked in. The sergeant was court-martialled for gambling and his stripes were taken away from him for one day. He blamed the whole thing on me and as we were going into Passchendaele in less than a week I did not like the whole hookup. We never got along afterwards.
We then went to Hazebrouck where we stayed for one night and started for Passchendaele. Well, I guess this was it. We passed through Poperinghe a few miles back and now we were in sight of Ypres. We had been passing through some very nice country, but now everything was pretty well churned up. The town of Ypres was a complete shambles. One could see parts of steeples of two or three churches and what remained of the historic Cloth Hall. Everything else was completely demolished. The Town Square, surprisingly, was not too badly broken up, and a lot of cobblestones were still in place and in very good shape.
There was a tremendous amount of traffic of all descriptions going in both ways. Trucks, heavy and light guns, transports, machine gun batteries and infantrymen. About everything but tanks. Oh yes, and the Red Cross equipment. A lot of casualties had been brought through this square in the last two years. Guess the tanks were all cancelled up on this front on account of the mud.
The Battle of Passchendaele, November 1917.
I had been looking forward to seeing the Ypres and Passchendaele front for some time and now that I was here my feelings were quite mixed, because I could see already that we were in for something quite different, and our only hope now was that we would not be in here for too long a shift. The country around here had all the earmarks of a whole lot of trouble. The troops moving out had a very distant, tired look and the ones going in, I am almost ashamed to say, did not look the least bit happy.
Canadian troops passing through Ypres, November 1917. WILLIAM RIDER – RIDER/NAC/PA-040272
Although the shelling of Ypres now was not at all heavy, the guns a short way up were raising quite a fuss. The ones coming back this far were mostly a few of the heavies. It did not take too many of this kind, though, to cause a lot of trouble. Of course, we were now too far back for any machine gun worries. Planes were going over quite a lot, but mostly on observation trips.
Passing through Ypres Square we went through Menin Gate or what was left of it. There were just a couple of mounds left of the gate now. We went up the Menin Road for a short distance, and turned off on another road bearing to the left and towards Passchendaele. The road was getting considerably worse as we went up farther. A narrow gauge railroad that was used at one time was now completely out of use. The road here was getting quite narrow, and the traffic was very heavy. We were meeting quite a few wounded coming out and the occasional ambulance was still travelling, but not too many this far up.
About a mile and a half (according to my guess) farther along we pulled off on the right side of the road and set up our horse lines. I do not remember where we were getting water for our horses, but believe it must have been the Zillebeke River. The river was only a series of puddles now. The ground all around here was very wet and made it bad for the horses.
A short distance from our horse lines on the opposite side of the road was a Casualty Clearing Station, which certainly was doing a thriving business. We were going to learn to our sorrow that business was about to pick up considerably in the next short while. It is hard to realize how many bad cases can be put through one of these stations in twenty-four hours under the tough conditions. I did not think it was a good policy for us to have our horse lines so close to a dressing station, on account of shelling our horse lines. The station was well marked with a large Red Cross, which perhaps helped us some, too.
We settled down here for the night and tried to make ourselves as comfortable as possible, looking forward to tomorrow with lots of misgivings. We all realized what the difference was going to be between night work, as we were used to, and the day work we would have to do here.
We were up early the next morning [November 2] and started out with the guns on our horses, taking them up to the gun pits where we were relieving the 4th Canadian Division. We were extremely fortunate on this trip and began to think it was not as bad as we had expected. That afternoon we went up again to take up ammunition, and things started to pick up considerably and kept on gradually getting worse until we left this front.
I have read a lot of accounts at different times of all the hardships that troops went through while in France. Anything that could be written regarding conditions as they were could not begin to make one understand the real sufferings that were endured by most of the men that were there. Very little has been said about the horses and mules that were used and what they suffered is beyond all description. As I said previously, a lot of my notes will be on transport work while in France. If it seems sometimes that my emotions are overruling my sounder judgment, it only shows in a small way how man and horse can become attached to one another under rugged circumstances.
A fellow soon becomes attached to his saddle horse and the feeling is very mutual, as I sometimes think the horse has the better common sense of the two, and appreciates a little kindness a whole lot. My team was named Split Ear and Tuppence. One had a large split in one ear and the other one, well — an Englishman took him up the line one night with ammunition, and when he got back someone asked him what he thought of the horse and he said the damned thing was not worth two pence — so the name. They were both favourites of the battery. I believe my saddle horse knew more than I did, and it is one of the reasons why I lasted as long as I did. He took care of me.
One morning a mule came down the line without saddle, bridle or any equipment, but badly wounded. He came as far as the dressing station opposite our horse lines and stood there until he had to be shot. I believe that mule knew in some way what was going on inside the station and thought it would get help there. Things like this are hard to understand, but I cannot change my mind.
The trouble with transport work in a war is that while under fire, one has to stay above ground and has no protection from shelling or machine gun fire, whereas foot troops have a chance of protection from a shell hole, trench, etc.
We were on the go up the line most of the time in daylight and it is quite hard to realize how many times we could go through that barrage of shells with very few casualties and come back again. It was hard on the nerves and a lot of the time a fellow acted more like a machine and was quite indifferent to the shelling.
One morning we started up with ammunition on our packhorses. There were about fifteen of us in the party, each with a horse. The shelling on the way up was about the same as usual and we got along very well without too much trouble. There were quite a few observation planes scouting around which we did not like the looks of too well. We could also see one of his observation balloons, which seemed to be looking right down on us. We delivered our ammunition to the guns and started back. As usual we got a very cool reception from the gunners, who told us to get the d——d horses out of there before the Germans started shelling us around the gun pits. After us thinking what great heroes we were. Their comments did not bother us in the least, as we were very pleased to get along without their company. The horses were as well satisfied as we were and it is surprising how much faster the horses would walk on the way back than going up. We would ride them coming back and if at all possible let them gallop some. It was only a walk here though and hard walking. On these paths it was less haste, more speed.
Horses killed by enemy fire. NAC/PA-207908
The ground all around here was one continual series of shell holes filled with water and to slip into one of them was quite serious. In the first place a lot of them were so big a man and horse would be drowned if he slid into one of them. The mud was so soft that it was almost impossible to get footing to climb out. It was very common to see a leg or arm or part of a body sticking out of one of these holes. Most of these casualties were wounded who fell in and were unable to get out and were drowned. I believe that at least twenty-five percent of the casualties at Passchendaele were caused in this way. It was a real dread and I know it was in my mind all the time I was there and guess all the fellows felt about the same.
On our way back, when we were only a short distance from where we left our ammunition, the shelling had increased considerably. We met a column of the 6th C.M.G. Company transport bringing up supplies. I can still remember quite clearly feeling so sorry for them having to go up through it and back again. Just as we met, the Germans sent a salvo over among us and made a mess of a lot of the 6th horses and several of the drivers. He must have had us well spotted from his observation plane as his timing and distance were just about right. We did not have a casualty at this exact time, but they had about six horses killed and one man was badly hurt. He was still conscious and I thought he might be able to pull through. I got off Split Ear and told one of our drivers to send up a stretcher from a field ambulance, which I knew was down the line perhaps a couple of hundred yards, and I would stay and try and patch him up. I took my field bandage and his and they would not even cover one wound on his shoulder. His arm was blown off, all except a small piece of flesh under his arm next to his body. All that side of him had been badly beaten up with shrapnel, even the side of his head. One reason I am spending some time on this incident was getting back to horses.
When I decided to stay, there was still a lot of shelling going on and I tried to get my horse to follow the other horses, but he would not leave. Two or three times I led him a short way and when I turned to go back, he would follow me, like a dog would do. At last I got a piece of stick, and gave him a couple of slaps and he walked away. When one realizes that a horse is terrified of shellfire, they must have a lot of confidence in a man, or whatever feeling you want to call it. Guess it was mutual and we did not want to be parted.
Two stretcher-bearers arrived in about an hour and put him on the stretcher and carried him to the dressing station. I can still remember his arm falling off the stretcher while we were taking him along and just hanging by an inch of flesh. I never could understand his strength, as, up until the time I left him at the station, he had still not lost consciousness, even with the terrific loss of blood. I did not know his name and had no chance to find out if he survived or not. If he did, it was a miracle.
This day was the only time I was hit while in France and it was by a piece of plank that was blown up by a shell. I wandered back down towards the horse lines and arrived back a couple of hours late. Most of the boys were surprised to see me. A fellow (I think his name was Russell Vollick) saw my horse and an artillery guy leading him. Russ put up quite a fight before he would let him go. I have wondered since what the reaction would have been that night if I had lost my horse. Believe me, every outfit was trying to pick up spare horses if they had the chance. It cheered me up considerably when I saw my horse was OK.
I was quite badly shaken up that night when I got back and believe that was the nearest I came to breaking when I was over there. My nerves were not too good now and in the case of this trip it was hard on us. I think the only thing that kept any of us going was our age. Youth had a great knack of snapping you out of depression.
The continuous exposure to all kinds of fire at Passchendaele was really nerve wracking, and each time a German plane came over or they put up an observation balloon we could look for shelling, as we were all like sitting ducks. The roads, as they were, had to be followed on account of the mud and, of course, the Germans well knew this and this was when the heavy shelling was done. Mule and pack horses could not be used at night (this only refers to Passchendaele) because if one got off the beaten track and slipped too much it was goodbye. Most of the infantrymen and machine gunners, etc. used the duck walks to go up on. These were forms that were made of 1 × 3 cross pieces, nailed on lengthwise pieces of 2 × 3 about ten feet long. They were about sixteen inches wide and laid in the driest parts of the fields by the engineers. They were laid in quite a zigzag pattern and did not make too good a target for the artillery. They made a very good walk until after a while, when they also were swallowed up by the mud.
Destroyed tank in the mud of Passchendaele. NAC/PA-002195
There were about six tanks along the road up which our transport went. They were out in the field in the mud and were all blown to pieces by German artillery. Like everything else, they were of no use whatever in the mud. They were still being shelled quite often, as they still were some protection for a machine gun. Anything that was raised up here for two feet was liable to be fired at, as overhead protection was not too good.
After a fellow gets really tired in a mess like this, each time he goes up the line he thinks of the law of averages and knows his luck cannot hold on forever. There is always the dread that a fellow might get a Blighty [wound] that will be a little hard to get over. In my case at this time I had the only original team left in our battery, so I used to figure the odds were getting shorter for us all the time. Two horses and a driver staying this long together without one of us being wounded was something of a record. Up until this time I could go into the line (of course I was scared), do my shift and come back out again, and after a few hours be as good as ever. After about six or eight days of this racket, I don’t think any man could go through it and come out the same as he was before. At least it shook me up somewhat and I think most of the boys felt the same.
One thing regarding Passchendaele in which we were lucky was in having very good luck in our rations getting up this far so well. Although pie, etc. was not too plentiful, we always got the necessities, hard tack, bully beef, cheese and jam.
On our ninth day up here we were told that on the next day we would be going up to bring the guns out. This was really good news as we expected to be stuck here for perhaps quite some time. I think there was quite a dread in most of our minds regarding this last trip, as we had been exceptionally fortunate so far in here regarding casualties. I think we all had about the same idea: that if we survived this session, we could stand almost anything in the future.
We had a fairly good night and early the next morning about fourteen of us started up with packhorses for the guns. Things did not look too good from the start as we could see a lot of heavy shelling a short way up. There was only the one way to go up with horses and the Germans well knew this, and I also think that they were wise that we were being relieved. This was a good time for shelling, as there were generally twice the number of troops in an area and a certain amount of confusion. Fritzie was sending over a lot of Woolly Bears all along the road. They were about a 6.9-inch shrapnel shell and timed to explode about one hundred feet above the roads. Outside of the destruction they would make, they were about the most awesome thing one could imagine, with huge clouds of heavy black smoke. We kept going and it was getting heavier all the time. At last there were only two of us left, a fellow named Kennedy and myself. The rest were smart. They turned around farther back. At last my horse would go no farther and Kennedy’s horse was not too keen, but was following mine along. I put the spurs to him, which did no good, and then I got off his back and tried to lead him, but he had positively made up his mind that this was it. In the meantime Kennedy had got off his horse, and I guess we both decided at the same time that we would pay attention to the horses, as they seemed to be showing better reasoning than we were. We got back on them and headed back down the road, and we certainly travelled. I remember my horse going into a shell hole in the middle of the road and going end over end and me on top of him. He came out the other side and did not slow down. I was still on top and believe me, when you are scared enough you can hang onto anything real tight. It made a mess of my horse’s legs as the road was made of cobblestones and they were pretty sharp after a shell blowing them up. By the time we got back to the horse lines most of the other fellows were there. Of course during all this we did not let on to one another that we were scared. That was not necessary. I am not writing this with any show of bravado, but am just trying to show the intelligence that a horse has. Remember this was the same horse that would not leave me under shellfire only a few days before.
Another reason we had for trying so hard to get through was the realization that, if we did not get through, we would have to go up and help carry the guns out which would not be a pleasant job. When we finally arrived back at the horse lines about all the appreciation we got for our efforts from the sergeant was that it would have served us right if we had lost our horses. He was more worried about our horses than he was about us. Of course he was right, as a horse at this time was of more value to the army than a man. Horse power was getting very low and it was the only means of transport up here. They were bringing horses up from remount now that were in pretty bad shape, shell-shocked, blind, etc.
Machine gun positions of the 16th C.M.G. Company during the Battle of Passchendaele. NAC/PA-002162
Well, at any rate, we had to go up the line again that afternoon and help carry the stuff out. We went up cross-country over the duck walks. We were sure by this time that the Germans knew we were relieving, as they were shelling all around wherever they could see anything move. We were again very lucky in this trip, not having one casualty on the way up or back. If there ever was a miserable job it was to carry a Vickers machine gun or tripod on your back on a trip like this, through this kind of mud and heavy shell fire. Almost at every shell a fellow would duck and try to get down and then the trouble would be getting back up, with the gun or tripod all mixed up in your arms and legs. There would almost always be a number of stretcher cases coming out, very slowly, and to get by them would mean getting off in the mud again.
After putting in such a day as this we were certainly going to appreciate getting back on a little drier ground for a few days, away from the continual shelling and worry of gas. We were told that night that we would be pulling out in the morning for rest (we hoped). Even with only one more night to stay around here, it seemed like a long time. We were all saddled up and mounted early the next morning [November 12], and as is not too unusual in the army, we were delayed for about two hours. Each hour now seemed to drag out, as we were sure he would be giving us one more shelling as a farewell.
While we were waiting, a number of planes were flying overhead and at last there was a real nice dogfight going on. If I remember rightly, there were either six or eight, divided equally on both sides. They were well over on our side of the line and likely trying to see what was going on around Ypres. They manoeuvred for quite some time, and two Germans came down in flames and one of ours came down out of control, but landed OK. The balance of the Germans then headed for home. In a short time we pulled out towards Ypres.
Canadian soldiers drinking coffee supplied by the Y.M.C.A. NAC/PA-145659
