Private Wallace Pike - Royal Newfoundland Regiment

Introduction

We recently conducted a WWI Tour with my good buddy Terry Sullivan and his wife Sandy Cyr. We were joined by four of eight of Terry’s siblings: Michael, Brian, Carol and Pat along with Carol’s Husband Rod. We focused on the Royal Newfoundland Regiment and as part of the Caribou monument visit, we visited the significant locations for Private Wallace Pike, grandfather of Terry’s brother-in-law Rod Pike. Wallace had written an excellent memoir of his time in uniform, so his experiences are documented in his own words.

Early Years

Wallace Howard Pike was born on 22 December 1899 in Jamestown, Newfoundland son of Henry Jabez Pike (17 October 1871) and Ida Elizabeth Oldford (13 September 1877). Wallace was the eldest of nine children and the only boy.

Wallace published a memoir and the quotes from that document will be indented and italicized.

At the early age of six- and one-half years I began to accompany my father in the lobster boat.  From then until the age of fourteen, every summer found me in the boat with him.

I used to get a little schooling during the winter months starting when I was six.  Due to distance, I attended the Church of England school and, being the only Salvation Army boy attending, I was given a bit of a rough time.  I enjoyed going to school and therefore did not tell my parents of these affairs.  One evening, however, my mother was conducting a little business near the school and saw some boys throwing stones after me as I scampered for home as fast as I could.  That ended my schooling for the next two years, and even though I remember crying to go, my mother would not permit me until I was a little older and could take care of my own affairs.

During these two years at home, I continued to study from my number one Reader.  After this I managed to get three months each winter going to school.  I would begin attending school after the Christmas holidays and continue until after the first of April, then I would help father prepare for lobster fishing which began early in May.  I spent my last three months when I was thirteen, making a total of about fifteen months in all at school.  This was all the schooling I received as a boy.  I was then advanced as far as a number five Reader.

Wallace spent the summer of 1914 on the lobster boat, but when World War I broke out, the price of lobster dropped dramatically, and his father had to work in the woods to feed the family. That fall Wallace went to work at a lumber camp, not yet 15 years old.

On November 20, 1914, my cousin, Alfred Pike, who was a year older than me, and myself left home to go to work in the lumber woods.  Neither of us had ever been away from home before nor had we ever been on a train.

First, we boarded the S.S. Dundee and after spending three or four hours aboard her, we arrived in Port Blandford where we got the train around 10 o’clock that night.  We were soon rolling along over the rough old railway and at first, we were a little excited, but we soon settled down as we got more used to it.  Around noon next day we arrived at Millertown Junction and after a very short wait, we took the train into Millertown.  Here we knew no one and no one knew us.

We soon found the Office and got our numbers to go up with Frank Hicks on Costigian River about thirty-two miles up on Red Indian Lake.  This was where my cousin who had got the job for me was working.

We stayed in Millertown that night, and around dinnertime the next day, we started up the lake on the S.S. Lady Mary, with the wind about east blowing a gale and snowing fast.  We arrived at Harbour Round that evening just at dark and stayed there all night.  The next morning the wind was about west, clear and fine, so we left for the rest of our journey.

Wallace spent six months in the lumber woods, then returned home after floating the logs down the river. After the summer at home, he returned to the lumber camp.

I arrived at the camp and started work on November 1^st, 1915. The camp crew consisted of all young men; and a wicked bunch we were, not one among the crowd would say a prayer. It was there I learnt to play cards, gamble, curse and all the rest that a lumberjack would engage in.

When Christmas came, every man had his bottle of rum or whiskey and, on Christmas Eve we were all drunk and danced until near midnight.  When we got too muddled to dance, we crawled to our bunks and went to sleep.  Next day was Sunday and nearly all of us had 'big' heads.  This was my first and last time getting drunk.

I worked along there until the camp closed down and I started for home again.  I arrived home in Jamestown on April 16, 1916.  After spending almost another six months in the woods, I handed over my winter’s earnings to my father as usual.

Enlistment

After another winter in the woods, Wallace and a few of his pals decided to enlist. Wallace is only 17 at the time, so he lies about his age to get accepted, claiming he is 18. A photo of Wallace and a buddy.

I next went to the Doctor and after having my eyes tested, I got a pass for St. John's where I arrived at 12 o'clock on a Friday night, April 20, 1917.  A soldier met us at the station, there being three of us, and took us to the Central House, number 20 Waldgrave St.  Next day I went up for examinations and passed alright.

After swearing in and lying about my age, one had to be eighteen or over and I was seventeen and four months, I was dismissed until Monday, or I could go on a Church Parade on Sunday if I cared to. So, my first parade in the King's (George V) army was a church parade.  We paraded to Wesley Methodist Church.

On Sunday night I went to the Salvation Army, and after the service I was greeted more than once by girls with the words "you slacker" as I was as yet still in civvies.  On Wednesday I got my khaki uniform, and that night I thought the girls would carry me away on Middle Street.  I was no longer called a "slacker".

All this time I was beginning to learn my duties as a soldier; first we learned our turns - it was “right turn!”, "left turn!" "On your heel and toe", the instructor would yell.  Next came ‘physical exercises.  I remember the first I got was 'on the hands, down thirty-two times', these were known as 'push-ups.  My!  I got about half through it and the strength left my arms.  I watched the instructor to see if he was looking and then I would just raise my head to make him believe I was doing it correctly.

Next, we had to learn how to use a rifle. I was down on the firing range about a fortnight when one of the Corporals came and gave me my pass to go home for eight days' furlough before sailing for England.

I arrived home in Jamestown about 2 o'clock on May 5th., my cousin with me.  We walked down the road and across the hill as large as life, dressed in our khaki.  It was my first time home since October the year before.  I was welcomed to the old homestead, although I knew that mother's heart was well nigh breaking as every now and then when she would look at me the tears would start down over her cheeks.

After a week at home Wallace’s departure was very emotional.

I began with one of my sisters, which being one of eight, who sat next to my mother, leaving mother till last.  As I said “good-bye”, there were not many dry eyes in the house.

Then I came to father, and as I write these words, I can almost picture his face with the big tears rolling down his cheeks.  I can only remember seeing him cry once before and that was when his parents died.  But now as he shook my hand, his voice seemed to choke with a sob. By this time my hard heart had become pretty near melted.

Now I came to mother.  My intention was to just touch her hand and slip away.  But no!  As she lifted her right hand to shake mine, she passed her left around my neck and, holding me close, sobbed as if her heart would break.

Now my heart had almost failed me, and tears began to come to my eyes.  I dragged her across the kitchen and through the hall.  After a struggle I parted her arms from around my neck as I went through the hall doorway.  Then as I turned her last words were, "promise me, Wallace, if you never meet me again on earth to meet me in heaven".  My answer was "mother I'll do my best", but these words were for a time soon forgotten.

After a short time in St John’s, a draft of approximately 300 soldiers sailed to Halifax on 19 May 1917 on the SS Florizel. The Florizel was one of the first ships specifically designed to operate in icy waters.

On 03 June they sailed for Liverpool, along with 7,000 Canadian soldiers, on the SS Olympic. Submarines were a threat but the Olympic was the fastest troop ship in the Atlantic that could steam at 32 knots. The Olympic was the sister ship to the Titanic and the Royal Navy Hospital Ship (HMHS) Britannic. In her three-and -one-half years of ferrying troops acro ss the Atlantic the Olympic had carried some 72.000 Canadians to war and brought at least 58,000 back home. There were 14 voyages from Halifax, 12 of them carrying an average of 6000 Canadian troops each, for a total of 72,000 Canadian troops carried to war, in addition to 12,000 members of the Chinese Labour Battalion. In 1918, she made eight trips bearing American troops, which, with 6000 each, would have amounted to a total of 48,000. In total, then, Olympic carried approximately 132,000 across the ocean to the war effort. In April 1918, the Olympic rammed and sank the German submarine U-103 in the English Channel. Thus, Olympic became the only troopship during the First World War to sink an enemy submarine.

They landed in Liverpool and on 10 June arrived at Ayr, on the West coast of Scotland when the 2^nd Battalion Newfoundland Regiment trained replacement for the 1^st Division in France.

After a month in Ayr, they moved to Barry near Dundee on the Eastern Coast of Scotland and continued training. They returned to Ayr on 02 October and took the train to Southampton on 05 November. They crossed the channel the next night and after a few days in Rouen, joined the battalion at Burles le By on 14 November in preparation for the Battle of Cambrai. Wallace was assigned to C Company.

Battle of Cambrai 20 Nov – 3 Dec 1917

Overview

Cambrai was a key rail hub for German resupply, so the British planned an assault to break through the heavily defended Hindenburg Line and take Cambrai. A new approach was taken, the British amassed 476 tanks (378 combat tanks and 98 supply tanks) to advance in concert with the 15 Divisions of Infantry. Tanks with Fascines (bundles of wood used to bridge trenches).

The tanks were used to crush the extensive lines of barbed wire, and no preliminary barrage was used in hopes of surprising the Germans. 1,000 guns opened up at 0630 on 20 November and the infantry and tanks advanced under a creeping barrage. The attack was spectacularly successful, with advances of more than 5 miles on the first day.

The British were surprised by the success of the first day, but over half of the tanks were disabled or broken down after the advance and the troops had outpaced their artillery. The rapid advance had created a salient (bulge) in the front lines that would be exploited by the Germans.

Newfoundland Regiment Advance

Prelude

The descriptions of the Newfoundland Regiment battles are all taken from David Parsons’ book, Pilgrimage: A guide to the Royal Newfoundland Regiment in World War One.

The Newfoundland Regiment had been part of the 88^th Brigade, 29^th Division since coming to France in 1915.

Advance

At 2:30 a.m., Nov. 20, 1917, the Newfoundlanders -17 officers and 536 other ranks, marched off to Gouzeaucourt. At 6:30 A.M., the guns roared, and the tanks clattered forward, followed by the infantry. At 8:30, the Regiment was in position in the trenches north of Villers Plouich, previously occupied by the 20th Division, who had advanced two and one-half miles to this point. At 10:00 a.m., they advanced behind the tanks.

Canal Attack

The route lay northeast over Welsh Ridge, 4000 yards south of the Canal. There was little resistance as they crossed the first trenches of the Hindenburg Line. Some enfilade fire from machine gun nests was quickly dealt with though it slowed the advance and caused some casualties.

A battery of German guns held up the troops, knocking out three of the four tanks assigned to the Division. The fourth tank developed engine trouble, but the advance continued without support of the tanks after the guns had been captured.

Pockets of Germans in dugouts were captured. Finally, the open slope to the St. Quentin Canal, 1000 yards ahead, was reached. Marcoing to the left, and Masnieres to the right could be seen. The Regiment moved to Marcoing Copse closer to the canal, from whence they could launch the assault across it.

The St Quentin Canal near the lock.

The area was covered by German machine gun fire. Several attempts resulted in casualties.

The lock that the Regiment crossed in single file.

The 87th Brigade had found Marcoing free of Germans and the 86th Brigade had taken Nine Wood and Noyelle beyond. However, Masnieres was not captured. A tank crossing the lift bridge crashed into the canal, preventing armoured support from assisting the attackers.

Masnieres Caribou

At the Masnieres Caribou, Carol and Michael read Wallace’s account of his first experience in battle. Wallace was not yet 18 and had joined the Regiment less than a week earlier. Hearing his detailed description of his first time in combat in the shadow of the memorial was an extremely moving experience.

At the Masnieres Memorial. As was appropriate for the Newfoundland regiment, we suffered a few casualties with Sandy and Pat on the injury reserve list.

Wallace’s Account

At last, we got clear and joined the battalion at Burles le By on November 14, 1917, where they were then practicing for a battle.  After three or four days we set out to march back to the firing lines.

After marching all night on November 19th., we reached the trenches, and there were three divisions to go ‘over the top’ that morning, November 20th.  We were the third.

Just before dawn broke, the bombardment started.  Up to this time everything was very quiet, only an occasional rattle from the machine guns.  Now everything was red as the big guns which were concealed from view of the aeroplanes belched forth fire and smoke and the tremendous roar was almost unbearable to the head.

Since it was my first time ever seeing or hearing those big guns, I did not realize my danger.  I remember saying to my pals, “it is an early hour for anyone to be getting married”.  As we joked over the noise and ate lunch, daylight became more bright.  Soon I could see large parties of German prisoners coming out and here and there a wounded man getting back as best he could.  The stretcher bearers were busy bringing back those who could not walk.

I soon saw the fruits of the terrible bombardment and realized my danger.  These thoughts were soon overcome by a desire to get on where the fighting was.

Finally, eleven o’clock came.  This was the hour when we would 'jump off' at the sound of a bugle.  We were soon out of our trenches and formed up in 'artillery formation' in which formation we marched for very nearly a mile.  Then we came under rifle fire, and we got the order to 'extend'.

Soon I saw some of our numbers falling never to rise again.  I remembered the first bullet I heard whistling past me, and I compared it to the sound of the little birds in the woods at home when they were disturbed.  These 'birds' were hot ones.

Just before coming under rifle fire, I saw the first man I had ever seen killed in action.  I shall never forget that poor fellow.  He was killed by a shell, and his face was a very dark purple.  His pack, which was strapped to his back, kept him in a sitting position.  I also saw the arm and leg of another man lying close by this poor fellow, which told me that another had met his death there.

Now, as we advanced in rushes of five or six men at a time.  We would run a short distance then lie down and I could see fellows all around rising and then run a short distance, to fall wounded or dead.  As we were now under a storm of bullets, the ground beneath our feet was almost like some person had drawn a harrow over it.

The ground was so torn by the bullets from the German machine guns one could scarcely imagine how anyone could escape.  These guns fired at the rate of three hundred bullets from each gun per minute, and there must have been more than three or four hundred of them.  I have often felt since that God's hand was at work!

We were advancing toward a little village by the name of Masnieres, where the German Headquarters was situated.  As we got nearer to the borders of this village, we could see faces of men with their revolvers and rifles shooting through the windows. Running by the side of the village and between us and the houses lay St.  Quentin Canal about sixty feet wide and filled with water.

There was a bridge across this canal which could rise up with chains so that boats could pass under it.  The Germans had raised this bridge on one side so that it was difficult for us to cross.  Even while we were crossing one after the other, the bullets were cutting splinters out of the bridge.  Certainly, more than one fell around it.

As we passed up the road on the other side, there was just as many boys coming back wounded as there was going up.  The Germans having occupied a house in which they had eight machine guns, and these were concentrated on the crossroads which made it almost impossible to pass. Finally, we dropped a trench mortar shell on the house which put them out of action, and we captured the eight guns.

Here Captain Butler led the charge up the hill at the back of the village, but he soon returned with several bullet wounds in him, and thus he went off down the lines. I wished I could go with him.

Ten or twelve of us with the trench mortar gun, for which I had been carrying shells all day, tried to reach the top of the hill led by a brave man, Lieutenant Herder.  We had to halt several times because the machine gun fire was so terrible. Seeing it was impossible to go any further, our leader gave the order to retire back to the road which was about one hundred yards behind us. In our short retreat, the man running in front of me was hit through the leg.  When he fell, I jumped over him and reached the road alright.

It was now near dark. Next, we got into an old brick house, and after getting the food from our dead comrades, we proceeded to get something to eat. Although I was very wicked at that time, I thanked God that the first day was past and I was not hurt. That night we spent in bringing up ammunition.

Come the morning, we had to go with the Essex Regiment and carrying our trench mortars we helped them take the left half of the village. Then we had to go 'cleaning up'.  This was to get all the snipers and otherwise hidden Germans that may be left in the village.  This was no pleasant task as one never knew the moment when he would come up against five or six of these who were hiding in nearly every dark corner.

Following this we got mixed up with the English Troops and became stranded.  Then we received orders and were assigned to different companies.  I hardly knew how I passed that night.  The next day I wandered into my own "C" Company. They were expecting a relief party which came up that night.  We retired back about two miles to another little village, Marcoing, where we were to stand in reserve for a day or two - so we were told, then we would go out on six week's rest.

Masnieres

The Newfoundlanders turned right to advance toward Masnieres but were held up by persistent machine gun fire which was eliminated with difficulty. A second machine gun had to be silenced also. Gun fire from other sites took time to clear up during the rest of the day.

In preparation for an attack on Nov. 21, the Newfoundlanders moved along the canal to take up a position in a beet factory on the other side of Masnieres. A single shell landed amongst a group of soldiers moving along the canal. Ten men were killed and fifteen wounded. L/Cpl. John Shiwak, an Inuk from Labrador, the leading sniper in the Regiment, was one of those killed.

The attack on Nov. 21 did not materialize as the troops were in no condition to participate, having been on the move since 2:00 A.M. the day before and there were no reserves close by. That night, the men descended into caves and tunnels under the village, undisturbed by shelling above. On the night of Nov. 22, the Regiment was relieved by the Middlesex Regiment and marched back to Marcoing.

The cost of this attack was heavy. There were three officers and fifty other ranks killed, another officer died of wounds five days later, and six officers and one hundred and eighty-eight men were wounded.

COUNTERATTACK

The German counterattack started on Nov. 30. Four British Divisions held a line from Marcoing to Epehy (three miles south of Gouzeaucourt). The main thrust of nine German Divisions would be a drive from the east, then a drive north to eliminate the salient the British attack had created.

The Newfoundland Regiment stayed at Marcoing for three days. On Nov. 23, the German guns started a continuous barrage on Marcoing and Masnieres. From Nov. 25 to 28, the battalion occupied trenches on the north side of the canal facing north toward the Beaurevoir line, then returning to the cellars of Marcoing after an uneventful tour of front-line duty.

On Nov.29, the Regiment was ordered forward to carry out relief at Masnieres. Early the next morning, heavy shelling of Marcoing foretold of an eminent attack. The two battalions of the 86th Brigade holding the line near Les Rues Vertes reported they were being engaged from Rumilly and Crevecour, and a battalion of the 20th Division to the south was falling back. At 10:00 A.M., an urgent message from Brigade instructed the C.O. to move the Newfoundlanders forward with the other battalions of the 88th Brigade. The heavy shelling prevented them from moving to their designated positions. Because of the shelling, the companies had to move to the assembly point near Marcoing Copse independently.

BAYONET CHARGE

As they approached Marcoing Copse, they were met by advancing Germans coming from the direction of Les Rues Vertes, trying to outflank the 29th Division. The Newfoundlanders deployed and attacked with bayonets, stemming the German advance. On their right, the Essex, and beyond them, the Worcesters and Hampshires extended the line south. By night, the four battalions assisted by the Kings Own Scottish Borderers of the 87th Brigade pushed the enemy back one mile. As night fell, they dug in on a line beginning from Les Rues Vertes running south.

The dotted red lines on the map below show the British front lines on 30 November. The grey lines show the German counterattack, and the red arrows shows the Newfoundland Regiment bayonet charge that pushed back the German counterattack.

For the next 24 hours, the 29th Division hung on to their rather precarious position. The Germans kept up machine gun and sniper fire exacting heavy casualties. Further south, the Germans had pushed to the outskirts of Gouzeaucourt.

As darkness fell on Dec. 1, the 29th Division were at the tip of a dangerous salient, subjected to heavy bombardment and repeated infantry attacks. The exhausted battalions of the 86th Brigade dropped back, and the other two Brigades pulled their flanks back to just east of the lock the Newfoundlanders had taken on Nov. 20. The following night, Dec. 02, the 87th Brigade was replaced by a Brigade of the 6th Division. The 88th Brigade was left with a diminished front of 2000 yards, south of the canal in front of Marcoing Copse. At the left flank, the Newfoundlanders were dug in beside the lock.

On Dec. 3, the enemy started a crushing bombardment along the canal bank, followed by intensive and accurate mortar fire forcing the Regiment to withdraw to the west of the lock. Waves of Germans made repeated attacks on the front, but somehow the assaults were halted. That evening, the Hampshires came forward from reserve to relieve what was left of the Newfoundland battalion. They withdrew a one-half mile and rested as best they could in old German dugouts.

On Dec. 4, the Third Army was ordered to withdraw to a line through Flesquieres. This withdrawal was successfully executed, relinquishing the ground captured in the attack.

Wallace’s Description of the Counterattack

On Friday morning we received orders to move out!  Many of us thought we were going out for the 'rest'. At this time there was terrible bombardment on the village we were in and, as we started down what was once a street, but was now blocked up with houses that were blown down, there was no scarcity of bodies dead or dying everywhere. At one place in particular one could walk for a hundred yards or more on dead men.

To our surprise when we reached the edge of the village, we found that instead of going back for a rest we had to go and meet the Germans in an open field.  As we stopped for a moment waiting for our officers, the General who stood by said, "I thought better of the Newfoundlanders than to go hanging around here by this little hedge”.  At that moment Captain Bartlett passed by and on hearing the General's remark answered “why, sir, what do you want them to do?"  "Go and drive the 'Bosh’ back", came the reply.

We were now about two hundred and fifty or three hundred in number and upon hearing these words, Captain Bartlett sprang forwards, at the same time waving his stick over his head and shouting his 'forward!' command.  We all sprang forward with a shout at the same time fixing our bayonets.

As I write I can almost picture those bayonets glistening in the sun.

The Germans now were not more than one hundred and fifty yards in front of us coming down across the field in mass formation, but when they saw us coming and yelling like mad things they came to a stop.  Then they turned and fled with us hot after them.

I became so excited trying to get one fellow who was just in front of me that when I came to see where I was, I was just about thirty yards in front of the others and in danger of being shot down with our own guns. We drove the Germans back to their own trenches from where they had come that morning and then we came to a halt. Captain Bartlett had been killed that morning in the advance.  He had been hit in the head by a bullet from a low-flying German plane. Now we were just about cut off from outside help.  We could get no food of any kind and with hard fighting yet ahead.  We were in those trenches from Friday until about three o'clock a.m. Monday morning.

On Sunday morning about nine o'clock, we got the order to 'stand to'!  The Germans were coming over.  Then they started to shell us.  There being about seventeen men in the trench where I was, a shell came in among us.  When the smoke and dust cleared away, there were four of us left.  The rest were either killed or wounded.

Now by this time we could see the Germans advancing towards us very clearly.  They outnumbered us ten to one, all of them being Prussian Guards, Germany's best fighters.  We had nothing to help us - most all our artillery was out of action, and we had very few hand grenades.  So, we had to do the best we could with our bullets and bayonets. Our machine guns worked very well, so we kept up a steady fire.  The Germans kept coming and falling.  Hour after hour passed and night began to come on.

Just before nightfall, the English on our left, known as the 'South Wales Borders', retired to another trench and the Germans took possession of their part of the trench.  Now the Germans were in one end of the trench, and we were in the other.  Thus, we kept them till night fell and things grew more quiet.

In due time an officer came through the trench seeking for volunteers to grenade a part of the trench. It was not easy to get volunteers for this task among the few of us that were left. After swearing a good deal about it he came back with the Sergeant and Corporal, and I was commanded to carry the grenades for them. We did not get very far before we came upon a group of Germans.  After shooting down some of them and tossing them a few grenades, we had to go back without clearing much of the trench.

Between us and the Germans a road crossed the trench that separated the two armies.  I was then put on guard about thirty yards from the Germans and the same distance from my own Company.  It was real dark, and I had to watch over the top and then crouch down and peer through the dark trench to make sure that none of the Germans would get down to us.

The hours were long and dreary.  The only company I had were the groans of a wounded comrade lying a few yards distant. Often, I fancy I can still hear those groans as they came amidst the darkness.  My thoughts wandered back to the old homestead as I could hear him say.  "Oh mother, if you only knew where I am tonight and what I am suffering.  Oh, if you were only here it would be alright."

These cries would almost cause the hardest heart to shudder and to wander back to the last time we saw our mother, but in such a place, I could not let my thoughts wander or dwell on that.  I was there alone, and life was sweet, and my only chance was in keeping a good watch and to turn my thoughts in another direction. On the other hand, the dying groans and the sight of our dead comrades often filled us with a kind of hatred toward the enemy and a desire to have revenge on them.

After spending about three hours there straining my eyes, watching for the first sign of danger and my ears listening for the sound of anyone approaching, I eventually heard the sound of a step coming through the trench behind me.  I grasped my rifle tighter and prepared for the worst even though I thought it might be someone coming to see how I was getting on.  I thought if it is the enemy there is only one and I might have a chance.

I was very relieved to hear the voice of my own officer as he enquired how things were.  Then he promised to send someone up with me and I was very glad a few minutes later to see one of my pals, Goodyear, by my side. It did not seem so bad when there were two of us and we kept guard until one o'clock when we were relieved by an English Battalion.  Then the two of us went back some two or three miles and lay down to get some rest in what was called the 'chalk trench'.

AFTERMATH

The 29th Division was the only division that did not collapse on Nov. 30. The initiative of the counterattack by the Newfoundlanders on Nov. 30 contributed to their success. The Battalion marched the seven miles to Etricourt on Dec. 5 where they boarded a train for Mondicourt, near Doullens. The trip was interrupted when shelling hit the engine, necessitating a move to another train. From Mondicourt they marched three miles to Humbercourt for two weeks rest and refit. On Dec. 18, the Regiment marched fourteen miles north over snowy roads to Boubers-sur-Canche. The next day, a twelve-mile trek brought them to Le Parcq. Finally, on Dec. 20, they reached Fressin and good billets where they spent their fourth Christmas overseas.

The losses of officers and men had been heavy. From Nov. 30 to Dec. 4, there were 49 killed and 196 wounded. This is in addition to the 54 killed and 194 wounded on 20 November. A total of 630 soldiers fought in this battle including 77 reinforcements bought in on 29 November. The Regiment suffered 493 casualties, an almost 80% casualty rate, second only to the casualty rate suffered at Beaumont Hamel. Wallace’s introduction to battlefield conditions had taken a heavy toll on the Regiment.

We had to go back another two or three miles to the Hindenburg Line which we broke through thirteen days before.  When we reached there, we had some food waiting for us.  This was the first we had to eat since Friday morning at five o'clock and it was now three o'clock on Monday morning.

My Company was then counted and there were only nineteen of us.  Fourteen days before we were over one hundred and thirty.  The captain who was Captain R.G. Paterson swore on his maker, "where in the so-and-so are the rest of them?” Certainly, some had gone astray among other Battalions, but over one hundred from our Company had been killed or wounded.

We had to spend two days in support of those who were in the front.  Eventually the time came for us to be relieved and on December 5th., 1917 we were on our way back from the battle of Cambrai.  We had spent fifteen days and nights under a continual rain of bullets and shells and three of those days were without anything to eat.

Despite the great advances of the first day, by the end of the German Counter Offensive, the British troops were back almost to their starting point. They did learn several important lessons that would lead to the combined arms successes in the Last Hundred Days Offensive in 1918. The British forces in France, in the period of the Battle of Cambrai suffered 75,681 casualties, 10,042 killed or died of wounds, 48,702 wounded and 16,987 missing or prisoners of war. The Germans suffered 54,720 casualties at Cambrai, 8,817 killed and died of wounds, 22,931 wounded and 22,972 missing and prisoners of war.

Royal Newfoundland Regiment

It was the early part of December 1917, that the Governor of Newfoundland, Sir Charles Harris, was notified that His Majesty, the King had approved the title” ROYAL” for the Newfoundland Regiment. The Royal Newfoundland Regiment was the only regiment on which this honour was bestowed during the War, and only the third time that this honour had been given to a regiment in time of war. (The other times were in 1695 and in 1885). The Royal Newfoundland Regiment Colours showing the Battle Honours.

Winter 1917-1918

Shortly after the Battle of Cambrai, the Regiment was moved out of the line for rest, reorganization and training. They spent Christmas in Fressin, France and early in January 1918 moved to the Ypres region and spent the next four months in and out of the line, mostly northeast of Ypres. Although there were no major battles the front- and rear-line trenches were shelled on a daily basis resulting in a number of casualties.

German Offensive March 1918

Following the Russian Revolution in November 1917, under the leadership of Lenin, the Russians signed a ceasefire with Germany in December 1917. This freed up 50 German Divisions to fight on the western front. The Germans decided their only chance of winning the war was to defeat the Allies before the United States, who had joined the War in 1917, could deploy sufficient troops to overwhelm the Germans.

The Germans used stormtrooper tactics to bypass strong points and push into the rear areas. They launched several attacks starting on 21 March 1918 and rapidly made the largest gains of the war. Despite significant gains, they were unable to take Ypres, Amiens or capture any of the Channel Ports. Eventually logistical issues and Allied reorganization led to the end of the advance and set the stage for the Final 100 Days Allied offensive that ended the War.

Bailleul

Filling the Gap

The initial phase of the German Offensive was on the Somme, followed by attacks around Ypres starting on 09 April 1918. The Royal Newfoundland Regiment had just completed four days in the front line near Passchendaele and were heading back to the rear when they were diverted to Nieppe, France and immediately pressed into action. A critical situation had developed near Bailleul after the enemy launched its massive spring offensive with overwhelming numbers from the Eastern Front.  The 34th Division had evacuated Armentieres on April 10 and were withdrawing west to Bailleul on the Armentieres-Bailleul Road (see map). The Germans were advancing so quickly from the south that it was likely this withdrawal would be cut off. The 25th Division had pulled back from Ploegsteert to the edge of Nieppe. The 88th Brigade was diverted to Bailleul under temporary command of the 25th Division to secure the road under threat from the Germans advancing from the south.

Near Breakthrough by Germans 10 April

The Newfoundlanders and the rest of the 88th Brigade were bused to Bailleul and on to La Creche. A little after 4:00 P.M., April 10, 1918, they left the buses at La Creche, a village one and one-half miles east of Bailleul. The Germans had occupied Steenwerck and were advancing towards Bailleul. C and D Companies went forward toward Steenwerck Station, coming under machine gun fire and suffering casualties. The low railway embankment made a good defensive position, and the foremost troops of the Division were along one- and one-half miles of this track. They warded off German attacks during the day and dug in for the night, with the 40th Division on the left and the 34th Division on the right.

That night, the Newfoundlanders went into reserve but were held in readiness for a counterattack at any time. On April 11, the 88th Brigade came under the orders of the 34^th Division. At midday, April 11, they were moved to De Broecken Farm, north of the Bailleul-Armentieres Road in order to protect the 88th Brigade from encirclement. At dusk, the 34^th Division withdrew from Nieppe, and passed through the 88th Brigade. Destruction of Bailleul.

12 April Crisis

April 12 was a day of crisis. The Germans had pushed the British from Estaires. The enemy were now in the rear of Bailleul.

The defensive position of the 34th Division held. The 88th Brigade was facing east on a front of 5,000 yards from Steenwerck Station to the Bailleul Road behind Nieppe. The Royal Newfoundland Regiment was in the front line with the Hampshires on the right and the Monmouth Regt on the left. At noon A and C Companies were forward in the line, the other Companies were in support.

At 4:00 P.M., a strong attack against the Monmouth Regiment started. That Regiment was ordered to hold its position astride the Bailleul Road but was cut off and suffered over four hundred casualties. To cover the open flank, a platoon of C Company of the Royal Newfoundland Regiment, commanded by Lt. L. Moore, turned his front 90 degrees to face north and caught the advancing Germans in enfilade. The platoon held on stubbornly but was overwhelmed. Lt. Moore was wounded and taken prisoner. This heroic action allowed the rest of C Company to fall back in good order to light railway tracks northeast of Steenwerck. Here, they were joined by A Company and the battalion HQ and stragglers from other units, to make a stand, commanded by Capt. G. Paterson. B and D Companies came up from reserve to join them. The Germans were halted by the determined fire of the Newfoundlanders. (It was said by some that it was like Beaumont-Hamel again, only in reverse. The Newfoundlanders fired at close range at the advancing Germans from behind the railway embankment. At this time the remainder of the battalion was deployed in a semi-circle, facing fire from the north, east, and south.

That night, they withdrew to De Suele Crossroads, where the lateral road from Neuve Eglise meets the Bailleul Road. The Battalion was relieved by the Northumberland Regt. of the 34th Division. If the troops did not keep moving, they would fall asleep on their feet. They retired to their reserve position, on call in case of a counterattack by the enemy.

Wallace is Wounded

Wallace, a stretcher bearer, was wounded in the foot by a machine gun bullet on13 April while rescuing another wounded soldier and spent nearly a month convalescing before rejoining the Regiment. Wallace was sent to No 7 Stationary Hospital in Boulogne on 14 April for a contusion to his left foot. The Stationary Hospital did triage, surgery, and recovery. They decided whether the soldier could be returned to his unit or sent to England for further treatment. He was admitted to 10 Convalescent Depot in Escault, France on 27 April1918. A convalescent depot was a step between hospital and return to duty. The depot was designed for soldiers who were no longer in critical condition but not yet fit for combat. These depots provided rest, light duties, and physical therapy to help troops regain strength. Wallace returned to the Regiment on 11 May 1918.

We visited the spot near de Beoken Farm where Wallace was wounded as a stretcher bearer. His grandson Rod in the field where Wallace was hit by machine gun fire.

The Location was determined from the unit War Diaries.

Renewed Crisis 13 April

That call came the afternoon of April 13. The 6 tired British brigades were facing six German divisions. At 5:00 P.M., a determined assault by the Germans had penetrated the British line and advanced along the De Broecken Road. This time, it was D Company’s chance to catch the Germans in the open. At 6.30 P.M., as the Germans advanced over open ground, D Company was in position to pour devastating fire into the advancing enemy. The rest of the Battalion joined D Company in this action. This stopped the enemy advance after they suffered heavy casualties. Capt. John Clift, OC D Company, was later awarded a Military Cross for his coolness in directing fire in this engagement.

Later that day, the Regiment were ordered to Ravelsberg Ridge to dig in at a previously selected position north-east from Bailleul to Crucifix Corner. They held this line on April 14.

On April 15, the Newfoundlanders marched back to Croix de Poperinghe (two miles north of Bailleul, on the slope of Mont Noir). Their stay in Nissen Huts here was less than twenty-four hours. The Germans had captured Bailleul and Ravelsberg Ridge. The Regiment went forward to dig in with the rest of the 88th Brigade, about halfway between Croix de Poperinghe and the ridge. While there were no German assaults during their stay in this line, there was heavy shelling but without serious loss.

Reassignment and Relief

On April 21, the 401 Regt. of the French 133 Division relieved the Newfoundland Regiment. They marched to billets near Steenvoorde and joined what remained of the 10% left out of battle. The next day, a short bus ride to Hondeghem, near Hazebrouck, reunited the 88th Brigade with the rest of the 29th Division.

The German Offensive continued until the end of April in this sector, but little progress was made after the rapid advance in the first week. By the end of April, the offensive had been called off. They now concentrated their forces on the French front towards Soissons and the Marne River, advancing to within thirty miles of Paris. By the end of July, the German Army had exhausted their resources of manpower and material. The offensive was finished, and the Allied counter attacks began.

Wallace’s Account

This was the way we spent our time from January 26th. to April 9th. - in the front line six or eight days and out for four.  During that time the enemy attempted to break through our trenches, but they never reached our barbed wire.

Every morning, we would prepare for our 'iron rations' which the Germans would deal out to us in the form of trench mortars and whiz-bangs.

Most such mornings a number of our boys would be knocked out and, as I was stretcher bearer, I was kept pretty busy.

On April 9th. we were told that we were going back for three week's rest.  We had now spent eight days and nights in the trenches and as we staggered along one would think that we were all drunk. Several times I fell asleep while walking and bumped against the other fellow’s pack ahead of me waking myself up again.

Finally, we reached Poperinghe where we were to rest for a day or two.  But we were in for a surprise! The Company Commander passed through the tents saying "now boys, you have two hours; eat, drink, sleep, bathe or do as you like, but be ready to start off again at one o'clock.  The Germans have broken through the Portuguese Division lines at Armentieres, and we have to stand in general reserves”.

Soon we were on board the motor trucks which were to take us up the line again.  As we passed through the villages there were many horrid sights to look at: old men and old women trying to help each other back to safety.  Some had their heads bandaged which showed that they had been struck by a bullet or piece of shell.  Others had broken limbs, whilst lying on the ground were men, women and children cold in death, and terribly mangled from heavy shell fire. After spending two or three hours on these motor lorries, they eventually came to a halt, and we were ordered off.  Bullets were whistling around us, and we knew that we where no great distance from the enemy.

I was soon busy carrying the wounded to the nearest dressing station.  When night came, we dug holes for ourselves and, covered with our rubber sheets, we lay down. It was far too cold to sleep even though we were very tired. Everything seemed quiet except for the rattle of a machine gun now and then, and the light from the 'star' shells that were fired into the air to light up 'no man's land', to see if any of the enemy were approaching. Thus, the night soon wore away, and morning came.

When daylight came, we had to move further up toward the front line and ‘dig in'. We dug our trenches facing West.  Around four o'clock we got our baptism of trench mortars following which we saw the enemy attacking on our left, facing south and the part of our trench which lay open to them. The English, being in front of us, started to run back and we had to take the front.  From then until well after night fall, things were pretty hot.

While carrying back a wounded man over the railway track, we could hear the bullets hitting against the iron so that we were forced to retire about halfway down our trench where this railway ran across it.  Here we positioned ourselves. All through the night I helped carry the wounded back amidst the bullets and shells. This was April 12, 1918. Towards morning we were relieved and sent back about half a mile where we stayed until four in the afternoon when we received orders to move to the left as the enemy were attacking from that quarter.

In the course of bringing back a man who had been hit in the knee by a piece of shell, I was hit by a machine gun bullet.  I was wounded in the left foot just bad enough to be sent down from the front line. I managed to pretend the injury was more severe than it was and it was almost a month before I was sent up the line again.  I had spent six months midst the shells, bullets and mud and I felt that I deserved the rest.

I arrived back with our battalion on May 11th. and found that they did not have men enough left to go up the line again.  From such circumstances we were assigned to Garrison Duty.

Out of the Line

The actions around Bailleul took a heavy tool on the Regiment, suffering 176 casualties to an already depleted battalion. By the end of April, the Regiment was removed from the 29^th Division and were sent to the Channel coast for rest and rebuilding. They were assigned guard duty for Field Marshall Haig’s General Headquarters (GHQ) in Montreuil, France south of Boulogne, an honour reserved for those regiments considered the best in the British Army. They spent five months there, rebuilding the regiment and training the replacements that were received on a regular basis.

King George V, French President Raymond Poincare and Field Marshal Douglas Haig inspecting the Guard of Honour of the Royal Newfoundland Regiment at GHQ at Montreuil, 7 August 1918.

Montreuil was chosen as G.H.Q. for a wide variety of reasons. It was on a main road from London to Paris—the two chief centres of the campaign—though not on a main railway line, which would have been an inconvenience. It was not an industrial town and so avoided the complications alike of noise and of a possibly troublesome civil population. It was from a telephone and motor transit point of view in a very central situation to serve the needs of a Force which was based on Dunkirk, Calais, Boulogne, Dieppe, and Le Havre, and had its front stretching from the Somme to beyond the Belgian frontier. The British General Headquarters building.

Final Advance

In September 1918 the Royal Newfoundland Regiment, much to their displeasure, were not returned to the 88^th Brigade. Instead, they found themselves attached to the 28th Infantry Brigade, of the 9th Division. All the other battalions in the 28th Brigade were Scottish units. The 9th Division’s role in an upcoming offensive was to occupy the left flank of a force that was to advance from the Ypres salient and were engaged in a general offensive along the Ypres Salient. The Newfoundlanders were moved forward on the night of the 19th to an area east of Ypres, numbering over 724 all ranks. They occupied a position on 20 September just north of Hellfire Corner next to Menin Road, extending 700 yards north. On their right were their old friends of the 88th Brigade, 29th Division. It was frustrating for all to look ahead to their next objective, Passchendaele Ridge, which had won at such great cost by the Canadians in 1917, and then lost in the German Spring Offensive. Zero hour was 0530 on the 28th. There was no preliminary bombardment by the British artillery, but the Belgian Army on their flank did fire a 3-hour preliminary bombardment. Rain was falling, and visibility was poor at dawn. The Germans seemed to be surprised, probably expecting the warning of a preliminary bombardment. The Regiment was in support of the two leading battalions. Over a ten-day period, the Newfoundlanders managed to advance from Hell Fire Corner nearly nine miles.

The Regiment’s advance during the Ypres 1918 offensive led by B and D companies and assisted by heavy rain and poor visibility from smoke and low clouds, the Regiment climbed Bellwaarde Ridge, and by noon was in Polygon Wood in defence. They then moved forward at 4 pm to Polygon Racecourse, which they occupied for the night. Spirits were high; they had moved forward three miles and lost only 15 casualties. The next morning the advance resumed, but things started to go askew. First, the Corps Commander overnight inserted a new Division, the 36th, between the Newfoundlanders and their old friends, the 29th, on their right. Orders for the Regiment to move at 9 am were somehow delayed and everyone else moved out ahead of the Newfoundlanders.

There was no artillery support as they advanced, passing through the leading Brigade who attempted support with smoke rifle grenades, which was little help. This serves as a good example of grossly poor generalship and lack of planning and preparation. The Regiment was facing strongly held Keiberg Ridge, in turn overlooked from the east by the commanding Waterdamhoek Ridge. 

Keiberg village lies on the end of a spur of Passchendaele Ridge, which extended south from Passchendaele. Any troops advancing on Keiberg would be observed from Waterdamhoek Ridge to the east. Casualties mounted. Three direct artillery hits wiped out nearly a whole platoon. B company, on the left, came under fire from a 6-inch gun firing point blank over open sights. B company was in the valley, about 1000 yards short of Keiberg village. The gun was protected by two machine guns on each side, so a frontal attack was out of the question.

Capt Frost immediately deployed Lewis guns to both flanks to give covering fire and to suppress enemy fire. A platoon under Lt Taylor was ordered to work its way to the south flank of the gun position and attack from there. Pushing forward in short bounds in groups of two and three, Taylor’s platoon captured the gun and the machine guns. For this day’s action, and for maintaining the momentum of the advance, Taylor won a Bar to his Military Cross (M.C.), and Frost was awarded an M.C. In less than an hour, B company had captured Keiberg, and the ridge was securely in the hands of the Belgians on the left and the Newfoundlanders. Many Germans surrendered in Keiberg, including a concrete pillbox (which was still there when Frost visited 35 years later). The Regiment was now looking down on the valley between Keiberg ridge and Waterdamhoek ridge, previously untouched in the war.

The Regiment was nearly 50% its normal strength by this time but continued advancing into the valley. Reaching the valley, they suddenly came under heavy fire from the first of two fortified defence lines (see Flanders I Stellung on the map) consisting of reinforced farmhouse posts behind thick barbed wire belts. In addition, a German plane strafed the leading troops. The Regiment had left its support artillery 2 miles behind, and they had no trench mortars. Casualties increased and the Regiment could advance no further.

Capt Frost sent back for reinforcements, and troops of 26th and 27th Brigades came over the crest of Keiberg ridge about 3 pm. A welcome sight indeed. All three brigades of 9th Division now moved forward, taking this fortified line and, advancing until 4 pm, consolidated near the Menin-Roulers Road in front of the second fortified line (see Flanders II Stellung on the map). Ledeghem lay a short distance to the east. The Newfoundlanders and the remainder of 28th Brigade were relieved the next day (dawn of 30 Sept.) to Keiberg for much needed rest after 48 hours of fighting and marching.

In that time, they had advanced nearly 12 km and lost over 100 soldiers. The reason for these comparatively low numbers were the better use of fire and movement tactics in small groups (at Beaumont-Hamel the tactic ordered was a massed line). Tactics had been changing for the better. Ledeghem was next.

Wallace’s Story

We spent a while guarding General Haig and another while at the same time guarding German prisoners until September 13th., when we received reinforcements and started back for the firing line once more.  We were stationed in front of the town of Ypres, arriving there on September 20th.  We spent eight days as supports following which we were again sent 'over the top’. The Royal Scot’s took the lead and we, the Newfoundlanders, followed as support for them.  At one interval that day, owing to the smoke barrage, our platoon strayed from the Company.

We were moving along in Artillery Formation, when we began to realize that we were almost up among our own shells. Suddenly a Scotchman said to us, “ye are up in the front-line mon, ye are supposed to be in supports arn’t ye?" Then we made a halt for a while and after keeping a little to our right, we saw our Company, “C" Company, through the smoke. We advanced to the top of Passchendaele Ridge whilst yonder we could see the village which for four years had been held by the Germans.  Here we halted for the night.  That day the enemy had been beaten back a distance of some six miles. As we were halted, our minds went back to the wee hours of the morning, when first the order was given to 'stand to!'  We all knew that it meant for us to get ready for what we dreaded yet longed for.

On a moment's notice, at a given time, it was whispered along the trench, "fifteen minutes to go boys". These moments I shall never forget. Oh my! My poor knees, how they would knock and tremble, yet they had to go.  Sometimes I would glance at them and say, "if you knew where you had to carry me today, you wouldn't knock like that!" Yet I was not sure that they would take me out of the trench in which I stood; because at any moment a shell was likely to carry or send me into the air where my knees would be useless anyway. Came attendant a further whisper "five minutes to go boys", whereupon our eyes would cast an occasional glance over our shoulder, back toward our rear.

Suddenly that gloom of darkness, which always seemed blackest about an hour before dawn, belched a mass of fire, such that I thought was the end of the world!  It was the blaze from our big guns which lay concealed about three, four and five miles behind us. In an instant, a wall of fire was bursting out in front of us; this being where the shells were falling midst their overwhelming roar and explosion. At moment appropriate to our Commander, we all left our trench. The last moment had come! We were on the run toward the German trenches and ran to within some thirty or forty yards of where our shells were projected and exploding. At this time also the German guns opened fire and, on looking behind us, we could see their shells exploding about one hundred yards behind. Thus, we had a wall of shells and fire behind us and one in front! Thus began the 28th. day of September 1918.

As one would come up to where we were resting for the night, here and there a comrade lay cold in death - but our losses for that day were not so very great. After a night spent in bits and pieces of trenches and shell holes, the dawn of the 29th. came.  About one hour before sunrise, we saw a few airplanes fly in front of us and drop some smoke bombs.  As we began our attack again the Newfoundlanders were in the lead.

It was a beautiful morning, the sun was shining, as bright and clear as were wars and death so very far away. We marched down the slope towards the foot of the hill on which stood the village of Passchendaele and passed this village about a mile to the right. We now became in ‘extended order' and as we passed on, for the first half mile or so it appeared to be only a ‘sham fight'. But, on nearing the bottom of the valley, there suddenly burst from Keiberg Ridge in front of us a terrific storm of machine gun fire.  In the blinking of an eye, some twenty fell from that shower of bullets, most never to rise again. It was here that one of our Officers, Lieut. L.T. Duley, fell with a bullet through the right thigh, which had cut the main artery, and, in a few minutes, his life was gone. Sergeant S. Murray also fell there beside a hedge, shot through the mouth.

Being a stretcher bearer, I had to get busy although there was plenty of lead flying, and some would whistle so near that I would duck my head. I had spent some eleven months dodging Fritz's bullets and had become well accustomed to it so that at times I would stoop unawares that such were conscious action. It was not long before we were free from bullets as our boys had rushed the hill where the machine guns were and the Germans had given way and retreated further back.

Meanwhile we had to carry the wounded about a mile and a half and by the time we had made twenty trips back and forth the day was dragging and well spent. At times we would take up a poor fellow, and after carrying him for a while, he would appear to be getting much heavier.  On putting him down we would find that the spark of life had fled, whereupon we would lift him off the stretcher and go back to look for another wounded.

We could do nothing for a man who was dead, save to bury him.  And that had to wait until all the wounded were picked up. While three other men and myself were caring for the wounded, our Company had been driving the Germans back. The wounded now having been taken back to the nearest 'dressing station', we set out to look for our Company midst the driving rain.  We were feeling very miserable!

As the shades of night began to fall, we once again found our Company and reported ourselves. We spent the night in a hole dug in the side of a bank with the wind about east and a cold rain falling all through the night.  Long before dawn we had to keep knocking about to keep life in ourselves.

Another Regiment having gone before us, we took shelter from the rain in an old barn.  We enjoyed this as much as any king might enjoy his palace. We spent the night there, and next morning we began to move up toward the front line again.

Ledegem

Continuing the advance from Ypres, the Newfoundland Regiment was called from the reserve on 2 October 1918 to locations along the front just north of Ledeghem, from the train station on the outskirts, and along the rail line. There were no trenches so the troops had to occupy defensive positions as best they could. Wallace Pike was wounded on 02 October, and his war was over. The Royal Newfoundland Regiment kept pressing forward until being taken out of the line on 26 October.

In action best described as grinding and unrelenting, the Regiment repulsed German counterattacks for the next four days. Three Distinguished Conduct Medals were awarded to Regimental soldiers on 3 October, all involving initiative and resourceful use of Lewis guns in fighting off the attacks and inflicting many casualties. In addition, that day, five Military Medals were awarded for outstanding individual actions in throwing back the enemy attacks and also for maintaining communications under fire.

On the night of 6/7 October the Regiment was relieved and retired to an area near Keiberg for much needed rest, hot food, and hot water.

The next phase of the battle for the Regiment began on 14 October, when the Second Army, including the Regiment was to advance and capture the rail line running north of Courtrai, about 7 kilometres to the east.

Since 28 September, when leaving Ypres at the River Lys, the Regiment had advanced more than 50 kilometres and were utterly exhausted. On the afternoon of 26 October, the Regiment was ordered to patrol around Ingoyghem; however, the Regiment was recalled almost immediately, and the as soon as the patrols returned, the Regiment was relieved, going into billets at Bavichove near Harlebeke. B Company was down to 46 soldiers.

Many Newfoundlanders reported regrets the Regiment did not make the final objective, the River Scheldt, about 600 yards away from Ingoyghem. At Bavichove, well behind the lines, a stray shell wounded Pte R. Courage, the last casualty of the war for the Regiment.

The Regiment suffered 640 casualties during this final push in September and October. Of the approximately 6,000 soldiers who served in the Regiment, almost 3,000 became casualties.

Wallace is Wounded

On 02 October near Ledegem, there were no existing trenches, so the Regiment holed up in buildings. They were shelled and Wallace was hit on the right hand with a shell fuse cap that subsequently embedded in his thigh. Wallace would have been moved to a Regimental Aid Post (RAP), located 200–300 yards from the front line, often in trenches, dugouts, or ruined buildings.

We visited the site where Wallace was wounded based on the Unit War Diaries.

Grandson Rod Pike standing on the ground where Wallace was severely wounded.

The RAP was staffed by a Regimental Medical Officer and orderlies who provided basic first aid: dressing wounds, administering pain relief. The RAP had no holding capacity—wounded were either returned to duty or sent further back. He would have then been transferred to an Advanced Dressing Station (ADS), set up by Field Ambulance units, about 400 yards behind RAPs.

The ADS were usually located in bunkers, cellars, or protected buildings and offered limited medical care and triage. No long-term treatment was carried out; patients were stabilized for transfer to a Main Dressing Station (MDS) positioned roughly 1 mile behind ADSs. The ADS was staffed by Royal Army Medical Corps (RAMC) personnel with basic surgical tools and could perform life-saving operations in emergencies. They held patients briefly before evacuation to larger facilities called Casualty Clearing Station (CCS).

The CCS was located several miles behind the front, near railways or canals and was the first major surgical facility in the chain. They treated serious wounds, performed amputations, and managed infections. The CCS could hold hundreds of patients and often operated in tents or converted buildings. Wallace was operated on at No 10 CCS located in Lijssenthoek, Belgium, about 15 km east of Ypres. Wallace was transferred to Number 32 Stationary Hospital in Wimereux, just north of Boulogne, on 04 October.

Wallace’s Account

This was the first day of October.  About midnight we relieved the Royal Scots around the village of Ledeghem. It was as dark as the grave!  There was not much doing, just an occasional shell to let us know that the enemy was still in front of us.  Every now and then a few bullets would whistle by. At last day came and everything remained quiet.  About twenty of us took refuge or cover from the airplanes in corrugated iron huts and we took turns keeping watch.  Quiet having set in, some of the boys slept.

At four p.m., I awoke my buddy and suggested we might share our only tin of 'bully beef'.  After lunch I stood up, fixed my box-respirator on my chest, and stooped to pick up my knife that I had used to open the tin of meat.  I reached for that knife with my left hand.  Why I did so I can never explain, as my right hand was always first for everything. As it turned out that gesture saved my life! I never got to the knife, as just then a terrific barrage of shells landed dead centre upon our position and a 'nose-cap' from a shell about four inches in diameter tore through the side of our hut.

Being, as I have said, in a stooping position, the shell missed my helmet by a fraction of an inch, and it struck the back of my right hand, tearing away my third and fourth fingers and stopped at the front of my right thigh. At first, I thought that the shell had come through from behind and I straightened up with a jerk saying, "that's done it".

I grabbed at the piece of shell and tried to remove it but found that a scrimp from the end of the nosecap had gone deep in the thigh. Following a second attempt at removal, and, with a stronger pull, it was brought clear, leaving a gaping hole. My first thought was to save the piece of shell as a souvenir, but it was still very hot and too large to get into my 'tunic' pocket.  Having not much time to think further on it anyway, I ran through the door and fell face down in a shallow trench.  Everything was a mess of smoke and dust.  A minute or so later I realized that the barrage had been lifted and only the odd shell was bursting some fifty yards further on.

After a little while I sat up, and until then I had not noticed my hand.  I guess it had been beaten numb.  My greatest concern was for my thigh, as I was not sure whether the artery had been severed or not.  A brief examination satisfied me that it was not. Now I turned my attention to my hand.  I brushed what mud and clay I could from it and called to a buddy who bandaged it for me as best he could.  That done, I struggled to my feet whereupon my friend wondered where I was going.  “I am going to try and get out", I replied.  “You will”, he said “be riddled with bullets".  Where from I allowed, “It’s just as well to die making an attempt at escape as to die here".

I was not sure of the way out, but somehow, I made it direct to Company Headquarters, where an Officer helped me down to a large dug-out and summoned another stretcher bearer by the name of Jack Lewis, who bandaged my thigh. He left and after about an hour he came back and asked if I could walk.  I said that I would try. But I could only make a feeble effort, as my right leg felt like lead and useless.  Jack called a second fellow and between them they got me up to the surface and onto a stretcher.

The German counterattack had meanwhile been halted, but there were still plenty of bullets flying around. The stretcher-bearers made it to the first dressing station where the Doctor made an examination.  He entered some particulars on a card and fastened it to my breast pocket.  From there I was moved further rearward and placed in a corrugated hut with some thirty or more other wounded.

Next day I was moved to one of the forward hospitals near Ypres, where just after dark I was placed on the operating table.  A Scottish doctor, with hair quite grey, came and examined my wounds.  Looking at my hand, he said, "Laddie, I don't know how much of that hand I can save for you", to which I replied, "alright doctor, I don't mind if I do lose it so long as I haven't got to go back up the line".  Whereupon he allayed my fears, "don't worry about it, you are finished up the line".  As he walked away, he said to his assistant, “my, and he is so young!"

Next, I knew someone was adjusting a cap over my mouth and nose, and that was all I knew until about sunrise next day, when I heard some fellow remark, "what's wrong with that bloke there?"  The fellow was told that I had been operated on during the night and was just coming to.  I don't know what I was saying or doing.

My first awareness was to wonder if my right hand was gone, so I put my left hand over and followed my right arm down from my shoulder and found that I was minus only two fingers! A little while later a young doctor made rounds to ascertain the condition of the wounded.  Having been attracted by a pool of blood beneath my stretcher, he stopped and replaced the soakened bandages. This caused considerable pain which was relieved somewhat by an injection in my left arm.  While fighting to control the pain, I fell asleep and awoke some hours later feeling much better and to find that the bleeding had stopped.

Back to England

On 08 October, Wallace was transported back to England and sent to the Military Hospital Bethnal Green, London. The 750 bed Bethnal Green Hospital was initially opened as the local workhouse infirmary on Cambridge Heath Road, Bethnal Green in 1900.

After three weeks in Bethnal Green Hospital, Wallace was sent to Livingstone Cottage Hospital in Dartford, Kent, about 20 km from London. The hospital was one of the convalescent units in Dartford. The hospital was built to support the workers of Burroughs – Welcome pharmaceutical company and was named for Missionary and Explorer David Livingstone. An interesting sidelight, the cornerstone was laid by journalist Henry Stanley who tracked Livingstone down in Africa, from the “Doctor Livingstone I presume?” fame. Another factoid, Mick Jagger and Keith Richards of the rock group The Rolling Stones were both born at the Hospital in 1943.

Wallace was in Livingstone Cottage Hospital when the war ended on 11 November 1918.

Wallace’s Account

After a day or two I was moved down to Boulogne, where I had the packing removed from my thigh under anaesthetic. From Boulogne I was moved to Calais, placed on a boat and taken across the English Channel to Dover.  A Red Cross train loaded with scores of other wounded took me down to London.

During the trip to London, a nurse came in our car and asked if someone could play a gramophone.  The chap opposite me replied that He could, whereupon the nurse brought in such an instrument and some records.  Soon we were listening to a fine selection of music.  When the gramophone eventually stopped, the chap in the berth under mine spoke up saying.  "that's good buddy, I can't see but I can hear” - that fellow having lost both his eyes.

In London I was placed in the Bethnal Green Military Hospital where the nurses were really good to us.  One showed a special interest in me.  She wrote letters to the folks at home, and brought me cigarettes etc.  As soon as I could walk, she took me out to see old London.

After some three weeks, I was moved to the Livingstone Cottage Hospital.  It was at that Institute that I found myself as the Armistice was signed on November 11, 1918.  At eleven a.m. the bells began to ring all over Great Britain and Westminsters 'Big Ben' struck forth for the first time in more than four years.

I received a late pass and went out to the centre of London called the Strand.  All along the route, there was rejoicing and dancing.  Going down Victoria Street, the bus had to be stopped because of the pressing crowds.  I had to keep my crippled hand across the top of my head so that it would not get hurt.

At last, the dark night of World Was 1 was ended, and now everywhere light shone and people all over the world were rejoicing greatly. On November 16th. I received my discharge from the hospital with a fourteen day leave and a free pass to go to visit my friends in Dundee, Scotland.

Homeward Bound

Wallace sailed for home on 12 December aboard the SS Corsican arriving in St John’s on 21 December, one day before his 19^th birthday. After a joyous two weeks at home over Christmas, Wallace returned to St John’s and was formally discharged with a disability pension on 28 January 1919.

Wallace’s Account

After a few days I was called to Headquarters and asked if I would like to go home with the next draft, whereupon I told them that I would like to spend Christmas in London.  The answer was "we shall see”. A little while later I was informed that I would be sailing for Newfoundland on December 12th.  So, I obtained a week-end pass and spent that last weekend at the Peel House in London.  In due time we were taken to Salesbury Dock and put on board the S.S. Corsican.

The next nine days were absorbed by a rather boresome crossing of the Atlantic.  Wherefrom on December 21st., 1918, we sighted once more the rugged and majestic coast of Newfoundland.  By noon we were close to St.  John's narrows, to witness those eternal hills with snow as forefront of the pine-clad cousins that lay beyond. As we neared the dock, I couldn't but reflect that never before had men witnessed a sight of such surpassing beauty and welcome!

Twenty months had passed since I left those shores, during which time I had spent eleven months in those battle zones that I might, never as long as I should exist, forget.  Soon from such bemusing where we docked, and I was greeted on the wharf by my widowed aunt, who had secured a horse and sleigh to take me to her home on Pennywell Road. The next day, December 22nd., was my birthday, and I had just attained the ripe old age of nineteen!

On the day following I was granted a pass wherewith I boarded a train for home leave.  I arrived in due time at Shoal Harbour, there to switch to another train going down the Bonavista Branch which brought me around 10 a.m. on Christmas Eve to stepping off the train at Lethbridge.  Here I was greeted by my mother and father who had secured the best horse and sleigh possible, with a marvellous decoration of flags. Soon were we speeding over the six-mile snow-covered road to my Jamestown home, all festooned with buntings of various kinds but mostly with 'Union Jacks', flying in welcome as if I were Marshall Haig himself! Particularly did Skipper John Hancock attract my attention, as he stood by his halyards and kept dipping his banner until we were well past his home!

Arriving thence at the old homestead, my sisters and neighbours waited to welcome me. The first flush of homecoming being now more or less digested, I did in the afternoon take my father's gun and went in over the hills for the purpose of hunting a partridge. I did not find any, but more or less as compensation, I did find a snare with a rabbit in it, which I swiped and brought home pretending I had shot it.  Dad, however, could not be fooled, and finally led me to admit that the snare was his!  We all enjoyed the rabbit for our Christmas dinner.

During my home leave, mother and I went to Summerville to see her sister, Mrs.  George Crewe.  This was my first time meeting that particular person. My two-week leave soon passed, and I found myself back in St. John's, where following some examinations I was finally discharged with a certificate reading:

"No. 3662, Private Wallace Pike, Royal Newfoundland Regiment, served with honour and was disabled in the Great War.  Honourably discharged on 28th., January 1919••••••••••••• George R.I.”

Newfoundland Regiment in the War

A summary of Newfoundland’s contribution to the war. A total of 8,707 men enlisted in the dominion's three services - the Royal Newfoundland Regiment, the Newfoundland Royal Naval Reserve, and the Newfoundland Forestry Corps. Another 3,296 joined the Canadian Expeditionary Force (CEF). These 11,988 men represented nearly 10 per cent of the dominion's total male population, or 35.6 per cent of all men of military age (between 19 and 35 years old). Newfoundlanders and Labradorians sustained high fatality and casualty rates during the First World War. Fatalities claimed 1,281 (some accounts say 1,305) of the Royal Newfoundland Regiment's men. Another 2,284 were wounded. Rates for the Royal Naval Reserve were lower, but still far too high - about nine per cent of those who enlisted died in the war. Newfoundland Memorial to the Missing at Beaumont-Hamel.

The losses of the Royal Newfoundland Regiment at major battles are given below. Many others were lost during the daily conflicts outside the major battles.

						Royal Newfound Regiment Losses
Date	Location	Killed	Wounded	Missing/ Captured	Illness	Total
Aug-15	Gallipoli	22	80			102
Jul-16	Beaumont Hamel (85% casualties)	233	386			619
Oct-16	Gueudecourt	120	119			239
Mar-17	Sailly-Saillisel	27	44			71
Apr-17	Monchy-le-Preux	166	141	150		457
Jul-17	3rd Ypres	67	127			194
Nov-17	Cambrai	175	272			447
Apr-18	Bailleul	71	105			176
Sep-18	Ypres	103	203			306
Oct-18	Ledeghem	41	171	15	107	334
	Total	1025	1648	165	107	2945

After the War

Following his honourable discharge from the Royal Newfoundland Regiment, he entered the Salvation Army Training College and was commissioned as an officer on August 14, 1921. Wallace married Minnie Pretty on 02 June 1924 in Dildo, Newfoundland. Minnie was the daughter of Sameul Pretty, born on 23 February 1862 in Dildo, and Martha Ann Smith born in 1865, also in Dildo.

Wallace’s Account

As my hand was crippled, I could not go back to the lumberjack's life, so I went, in due time, to see Dr. Blackall, who asked me what I would like to study.  I thought that I would like to be a mechanic.  After some talk and discussion, it became his judgement that my hand would be a drawback to such endeavour, and he suggested a ‘general’ education from whence I might later decide on a more permanent fixed and future course.  I agreed.

I was to receive sixty dollars per month, whilst attending school, and was instructed to report to Mr. P.G. Butler's school on Springdale Street.  That gentleman placed me amongst those students who were studying Intermediate where I found it somewhat difficult to fit in with the others, since I had forgotten the basics of Algebra and most of fractions.  I knew that one hundred and twelve pounds made a quintal, and that was about it!

The fighting had been a world away, but Wallace knew what he was getting into. He had seen what the war had done to his cousin: "He was all broke up, three bullets in his chest..." Before the war ended Pike, too, would be wounded, in the hand and leg. While he didn't speak often of his time overseas, when he did, his stories would captivate his children when they were growing up. Wallace Pike had had enough of war by the time the armistice came, and upon his return he would recommit to the Salvation Army where he rose to the rank of brigadier: "To be honest about it, I felt that's what God wanted me to do. Just remember I had been trained to kill men and now if I could I’d go out and save them or help them be good."

Together with his wife, Minnie, also a commissioned officer in the Salvation Army, they served in numerous corps over the next 43 years. Wallace and Minnie had 10 children, 30 grandchildren, 50 great grandchildren and 6 great-great grandchildren.

He retired with the rank of Brigadier on December 22, 1964. In November 1998, the government of France recognized Wallace Pike's contribution, presenting him its highest accolade, the legion of honour. In giving the award, Ambassador Denis Bauchard said, "The people of France will always preserve the memory of Canadian soldiers who spilled their blood on Vimy Ridge, Ypres and Beaumont Hamel. Through your courage you sealed forever the eternal bonds of friendship, solidarity and affection between our two countries. Today we pay tribute to the men of the Royal Newfoundland Regiment."

Wallace with Ambassador Bauchard.

In addition to his Salvation Army work, Wallace had longtime service to the Bay Roberts Royal Canadian Legion as Chaplain, member of Bartholomew #40 Loyal Orange Lodge and Royal Black Preceptory #1250, Clarke's Beach. An avid outdoorsman and devoted family man, Brigadier Pike was predeceased by his wife Minnie in 1978.

The Last WWI Veteran of the Royal Newfoundland Regiment

Brigadier Wallace H. Pike, S.A. (R) Born at Jamestown, Bonavista Bay on December 22, 1899, passed away in Bay Roberts on Sunday, April 18, 1999. Wallace was the last remaining WWI Veteran who had served in the Royal Newfoundland Regiment.

The following statement was issued by Premier Brian Tobin. It was also read in the House of Assembly:

I rise today to remember, and pay tribute to, the late Wallace Pike, who passed away on April 18 at the age of 99. Mr. Pike was the last of Newfoundland and Labrador's World War One veterans living in this province.

Wallace Pike spent much of his time overseas as a stretcher-bearer, risking his own life to help the wounded. He represented what would later become a Canadian tradition in times of conflict - that of humanitarian and lifesaver. Mr. Pike fought to allow each one of us to be free to stand in this House and openly discuss the issues of the day, and for that we must be thankful.

The passing of Wallace Pike signals the end of an era in Newfoundland and Labrador's history. Our first-hand knowledge of World War One has been greatly diminished. Mr. Pike leaves a large family to remember his life: nine children, 30 grandchildren, 50 great-grandchildren and six great-great grandchildren. Mr. Pike was predeceased by his wife, Minnie, and one child.

We would like to extend our sympathy to all members of Wallace Pike's family in this time of mourning.

Wallace was buried with his wife Minnie in the Salvation Army Cemetery in Bay Roberts, Newfoundland.

A commemorative plaque also acknowledges Wallace as the last WWI Royal Newfoundland Regiment veteran.

Another story of an underage soldier doing his duty. The description through Wallace’s vivid memoir makes the story all that much more personal.

Bibliography

Gogos, Frank, The Royal Newfoundland Regiment in the Great War, Flanker Press, St John’s, NFLD, 2015.

Nicholson, G.W.L, The Fighting Newfoundlander, a History of the Royal Newfoundland Regiment, Government of Newfoundland, St John’s, NFLD, 1964.

               A copy of this book is available online:

               https://collections.mun.ca/digital/collection/cns/id/163779

Parsons, David, Pilgrimage: A guide to the Royal Newfoundland Regiment in World War One, Creative Publishers, St John’s, NFLD, 1994.

Pike, Wallace, Memoirs 1906-1964, family Document.

Royal Newfoundland Regiment Museum

https://rnfldrmuseum.ca/history/regimental-history/first-world-war-1914-1918/

War Diaries

https://www.therooms.ca/sites/default/files/war_diary_-_complete_-_sept_1915_-_feb_1919.pdf