Between three and five o'clock the next A.M. the 13th, 15th and
16th Scotch-Canadian Battalion, some of Canada's finest regiments, along
with several others, streamed up the road. Wherever the sweep of the
kiltie went, there was going to be something doing.
Daylight. "Stand to the battery! Targets, front-line trenches!" We
opened up for thirty minutes; our telephonist reported there was such a
smoke from the barrage that they could not see the infantry, but the
woods were on fire. The Empire battery, together with heavy naval guns
that had been brought up, and armored trains, were all concentrating
their trip-hammers on the place. It was now evident that every living
thing in the woods must be dead, as nothing could live under the
hurricane of fire.
We next attacked the road, stopping the German reserves and ammunition
from getting near. Then--"Over!"
The net result of the day's work was--the woods, the German front-line
trenches, three thousand prisoners, German dead and wounded piled in
heaps; wherever the eye turned, the shell holes, trenches and ditches
were packed with wounded, dead and dying Huns.
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