The Dead of the Fifth Army.
THE YPRES TIMES
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Hindenburg (or Siegfried) Line, and the final German attack on Arras a year
later. Thus Vimy Ridge and the famous Grange Tunnel are brought vividly
to mind. The names and units of hundreds of British soldiers are still clearly
defined on the stone walls of these 16 mile-long galleries beneath the Ridge.
The Memorial serves a second and not less important purpose, inasmuch
as it records the names of the officers and men belonging to the Royal Naval Air
Service, the Royal Flying Corps and the Royal Air Force who fell on the whole
western front, whose graves are not known. In this aspect there is no exception
to its comprehensiveness. They total about one thousand, and it is very appro
priate that they are commemorated on the central memorial of the Front, over
which they spread their wings.
The memorials at Thiépval and Arras mark the end of the post-war construc
tional work of the Imperial War Graves Commission. This means that every
officer and man who served and died with a British unit is now recorded and
remembered for all time, either in an identified grave or on the panels of a collective
memorial.
H. B.
Dedicated with Permission to General Sir Hubert Gough,
G.C.M.G.. K.C.B., K.C.V.O.
"The overwhelming force of sixty-four specially trained German divisions'
out of their one hundred and ninety-two then on the Western Front compelled the
British Lines to yield."
General John F. Pershing.
"In a few days fell the awful German blow upon the British Fifth Army,,
annihilating it, scattering it, sweeping it away."
Major-General Robert Lee Bullard.
O, where the singer who has sung these men?
Not men of Agincourt, or Waterloo
Faced odds so great, with certain knowledge, too,
Of doom impending while the portents then
Riding the Heavens came into the ken
Of all the world that watched the mighty brew;
And when the blow fell on that splendid few,
Shuddered, drew breath, and wondered how, and when.
O, is it well with you? O, is it well?
Or was your giving some great mockery?
Here where they grope, and groan, and tell
The living of your wasted thoughts and lives,
Men grow unfit for such great company,
And kill the soul that puts on strength, and strives.
R. Henderson-Bland.
