THE YPRES TIMES
113
never quite reaching our refuge. Then, at night, a patrol that rivalled the imagination,
a crawling for hours, in kilts, through what had been a farmyard. I see again, as then,
the outline of pot helmets a shell flash revealed, the German heads, so close together.
We crawled on, because they never moved, and grouped about them. They were wedged
there, close-packed, long dead. Then the dreadful six hours' crawl back again.
And, that next night the attack on Graf House. It was of better weather
and not so dark, but confusion reigned. There was the long waiting, spread-eagled
in no man's land, until 2 a.m., and another frightful crawl. Then—chaos too
little knowledge, but that was Passchendaele to every unit. Cries, shoutings in the dark,
machine guns, shells, wild orders Germans scant yards from us, shooting point-
blank from cover of a road embankment. One of the shells had dropped almost beside
me.
It seemed an eternity after when I roused. The fight had gone on I had
lost sense of direction there was frantic shooting everywhere. Two German
gunners, huge men, passing within feet of me, placing their tripod and gun there,
beginning to shoot the slow realization that I had a Mills bomb in my pocket
the waiting before my brain cleared enough to comprehend its worth drawing
the pin the throw the red explosion the overturned tripod
the hunched figures in the mud.
Daylight. More shell fire. Wonderment as to where I was, stiffened in a
cavity, caked with mud, wretched beyond words. Comrades with hot tea no
orders no other men no officers nothing. Just wait and wait,
until reckoning is lost, and shell fire is a drumming on your brain, and nothing is quite
clear, a condition of merciful coma. Then night once more. Years ago you came to the
Salient. Years ago you were at California Trench. Years ago at Abraham Heights.
There was a night attack, years, long years ago. But now At Graf Farm a few
youths worked among the cabbages and turnips and dogs barked savagely from the
yard. It seemed incredible, standing there, that such things had really happened, that
the Salient was no more.
That was not Passchendaele, those acres of grass and roots and grain, those
farms and hedges, and cobbled roads. It is not the Passchendaele the veteran knows.
His Passchendaele is carried forever with himin his memory.
THE Ypres League Annual Commemoration will be held on Sunday, October 28th,
and the following arrangements have been made.
2.30 p.m. Assemble on the Horse Guards' Parade.
3.00 p.m. Address, followed by the "Lamentby Pipers of the 2nd Btn. Scots Guards.
3.15 p.m. March to the Cenotaph.
3.30 p.m. Laying of Ypres League Wreath on the Cenotaph.
3.45 p.m. March back to the Horse Guards' Parade.
4.00 p.m. Dismiss on the Horse Guards' Parade, and at 4.30 p.m. an Ypres League
deputation will proceed to the Tomb of the Unknown Warrior in West
minster Abbey and place a wreath.
H.R.H. Princess Beatrice has graciously consented to attend the service and lay
the League wreath on the Cenotaph.
Plain clothes and medals to be worn (uniform optional).
We hope that members of the Ypres League will make every effort to attend
this Commemoration.
W.R.B.
