Vimy Ridge = [Vimy Ridge : Canadian Operations April 9, 1917] (1917)
i
Men of A Company 9th Reserve,
followed
Orders to withdraw
To supports - Among them
Private A. Fyall.
The young Canadians
Watched offensive unfold to
boldly stand
Atop, as the German line was
Swept from one end across to
the other.
At some other point one
fellow Canadian
Corporal Gus Sivertz was
In the process of
synchronizing watches.
Far from his civilian days
As optometrist, the 22 year
old looked
Forwards at shells effects;
Men flew as if imbued with
super powers.
Like Private Fyall, Corporal
Sivertz saw
Earthly elements thrown
Two hundred feet high in the
air - blending
With a wall of fire - chalky
Earth and silhouettes of flying
Fritzies.
In all directions - dugout
Timbers making some airborn
mockery.
The sheer shrill, crackling,
blasting air
Made men of 8th Brigade
2nd Canadian Mounted rifles
cringe in
Unison, as a barrage came
Down - Corporal Sivertz
curled his body
As an embryo - buttocks
Clenched hard in to avoid
any bullet hits.
Instinct to cover the ears
made little
Difference - it was as if
They were held inside a huge
clanking
Machine - they did not
Dare to lift their heads,
knowing how
An angled barrage
Would lie flat over them, at
any moment.
After three slow minutes it lifted again,
Like a crane from hell -
The process was fascinating,
with
Complete perfection
Like a ticking clock.
Sivertz held back
Temptation to raise his
Finger to feel the solid
ceiling of sound.
ii
A mad macabre dance filled
what
Little thought Sivertz
Could entertain, when a sudden
gap
Opened, a hundred yards
Ahead - the feeling of a
queer empty
Stomach gone, along
With any fear and they were
all away.
Dawn was ripped savagely apart
-
Almost immediately
Wire caught his feet and he
splayed
Forwards, clumsily
To coincide with a shell,
dumping its
Angled nose into mud
To burst - clumps of chalk
exploded.
Barely a yard away, Sivertz's
head
Was pushed down
Into shoulders as chalk clattered
On his helmet - I'm dead,
He thought - only to realise
he lived,
With sore ears to find
That he was in isolation on battlefield.
Filth caked his front to
give Sivertz
Appearance of a man
Of mud - then a sudden, weird
gutting
Envelopment of loneliness.
He wanted to shout out, 'here
I am!'
To feel human contact
From someone, anyone - he
stumbled.
Fighting to keep his balance
Sivertz
Took a step forward
Then another - he saw
another man,
Lieutenant Christie
Whose toy shape tipped
forward, flat,
Shot dead - alone again.
All Hun guns seemed to aim
at him.
Others - instinct made him
run to try
And catch up with them.
Stench of spent explosives
fought
His senses - any kind
Of knowing gone as he
reached
The German trenches.
From naked openness came
relief.
iii
It was actually sleeting but
the fall
Was being made heavy
From activity of shelling -
Corporal
Sivertz dropped into
Cover, the counter barrage
being
Lukewarm, compared
To the fierce allied
bombardment.
Sivertz found very little to
shoot
At - lifting from
Curved earth against a
backlight
Of flames, 'Heinies'
Appeared - hands of
surrender held
High - amid great din
A man beside him turned to
speak.
Stranger’s lips were tight
up against
His ear, so that he
Could almost feel the man's
tongue.
With a smile he wanted
To say, 'it's going fine.'
Any sentence
Was left incomplete without
A sound he pitched dead on
his face.
Any distance was obscured,
dimmed
By sleet to hide flanks.
Corporal Sivertz, by some
instinct,
Detected trouble across
At Thelus trench, with 28th
Battalion.
Their own trench
Objective situation loomed
close.
The heavily defended Zwische
Stellung trench
Marked out the German second
Line - described
By an understated expression -
To prove 'warmer' -
The 8th brigade then swarmed.
Their sheer, determined
numbers
Saw a sweeping action,
To gain scores of prisoners,
to include
Regimental commander,
Who fumed - his Belgian relief
funded
Breakfast had been
Halted by his being taken
prisoner.
iV
Amusement rippled through
caught
Hun privates, who
Observed how their commander's
Breakfast of bacon,
Eggs, cereal, toast, coffee,
cream
And butter, was rapidly
Consumed by Canadian Al
Swanby.
The taken Zwische Stellung
trench
Became inverted into
Purpose for Canadian
defences,
Until halted by a steel
Plated German pillbox, to
harbour
A machine gun - on the
Right, Corporal Sivertz had
idea.
The pillbox's slot gave a limited
Machine gun
Arc of firing - Corporal
Sivertz
Set out to provide
The enemy gun crew, with a
mill's
Bomb; with this
Intent he edged forward in cover.
With his finger on the pin Sivertz
Glanced up too
Soon, when a bullet cut him
down.
He lay knocked
Out cold, unaware of the
continued
Events - after some
Time Corporal Sivertz's eyes
opened.
For how long he lay, he did
not know
But rain had stopped
And the pace of fight had
moved
On - gunnery still
Hounded the old front line -
getting
To his feet Sivertz
Stumbled his way back to the
line.
Sivertz joined one line of
wounded
Men, sat in a medical
Trench - likely weary from
being
Knocked out and
The bullet wound - the absurdity
Of sitting there as
Though in a civvy Dr's
waiting room.
V
Every so often a medical
sergeant
Appeared to choose
Cases of any haemorrhages and led
Them into the dugout.
Though at the end of the
line Sivertz
Was taken towards
The stairs, when sudden roar
screamed.
A sound, like a freight
train curving from
The sky; a 'bloody 5.9.'
They both ducked into cover,
just in time
When they emerged
All that was left of the six
wounded men
Were ripped body
Parts - the two of them were
very lucky.
The medics all pale and exhausted,
Quickly looked to Sivertz.
Quickly looked to Sivertz.
They awarded Corporal Sivertz
a ticket;
'On your way chum.'
Corporal Sivertz was then to
head off
To Wimereux - when
That night Private Fyall had
gone forth.
Canadian Fyall had been in
action
Since 4 a.m. artillery
Like a immense single gun
had been
Blasting over 18 mile
Front. with the lift, they
pelted like wild
Cats after prey, who
Dropped all equipment to make
escape.
Objectives of three lines
were achieved
One after the other.
By ninety minutes Canadians
gained third
Line, with multiple
Prisoners started to be
captured - moral
Was boosted, despite
Grim conditions of slime
blood and mud.
Private Fyall had luckily managed
To deflect a bullet,
Twice - then some chap bandaged
Him, while a tot
Of rum revived him; given a
mission
By the Captain,
Fyall was to convey a report
for HQ.
Vi
A great band of enemy ground
had
Been gained,
Across which he made his way
Over wrecked
Earth; his compass being a German
Barrage, which
Targeted the old allied
front line.
A mile marked out the very distance
Taken - Fyall paused,
To come to a trench that had
been hard
Fought over - there
Heaped mother's sons lay dead,
eyes
Glazed - Finding
A Hun haversack Fyall openly
cried.
The German soldier's wife had
sent
Her love a small
Parcel of sugar and butter -
but any
Brief sentiment
Suddenly passed as he kept
the
Dead man's pipe
And cap - another Hun lay
close by.
The large man made him a
gesture
Requesting Fyall
To shoot him in the head; he
refused.
British did not
Kill the wounded - instead Private
Fyall
Carefully placed
A haversack under his head
for comfort.
Fyall decided time was to
move on
And leave that
Trench - out into the April
landscape -
Countless, bitter
Carnage lay smouldering from
shells
That had turned
A pockmarked earth into wasteland.
A pulverised French spring had
been
Made turgid grey
And within movement of figures;
shapes
Of humans that
Tried to pull up their broken
selves limb
By limb - Fyall moved
Amid them - their hands
reached out.
Vii
Canadians that called out to
him
For stretcher bearers -
Other called out to him for
water;
There were too many -
Fyall ran weaving among them, heading
Into the enemy
Barrage- he slipped through red
craters.
Holes overflowed with bitter
water,
Stained deep red
From blood - somehow Fyall dodged
Through the barrage
Curtain, desperate to find
company
Headquarters
Unable to find any sign - all totally
gone.
Fyall's mission neared completion,
On reaching brigade
HQ - he was shown down to
General
Lomas who read
The Company captains report, to
Praise what could
Only be victory - was Fyall hungry?
Shown to the kitchen, Fyall
was given
Soup and bread,
But he was sick - having
constantly
Been at front over
Two days - before managing to
pull
On his mask, he had
Gasped, to inhale a lungful
of gas.
Directed to a dressing
station Fyall
Watched German
Prisoners carry wounded Canadians.
From somewhere
A shell burst over his head - Fyall's
Felt himself slipping
And 'going' to wake with
bleary view.
Some vague orderly told another,
This one was dead -
Fyall could not speak - fingers
lifted
His eyelids. A Doctor
Spoke; 'the fellow is fine.
Shell shocked
And gassed. take the blanket
Off his face…snow will bring
him round.'
by Jamie Mann.
Source: File: A first hand
account of Vimy Ridge by Craig Baird, High River Times. Available at: <http://www.highrivertimes.com/2012/04/10/a-first-hand-account-of-vimy-ridge>
[Accessed xx April 2017]
Source: File: A Candian at Vimy. Page 2076
History Of The First World War Volum 5. Published by Purnell for BPC publishing
Ltc London. [Accessed 21 April 2017]
Mann, J., 2016. 100
years Ago - Poems by Jamie Mann. [letter] (Personal communication, 21 April
2017).
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#WW1centenary #GreatWar #WW1poem #GreatWar #WW1centenary #worldwarone
#worldwaroneremembered #WW1Arras
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