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.

Our captain asked for volunteer observers, and I offered.  We went into the place where once was Maple Copse Woods, but it was no more; here and there was a standing tree, but not a leaf or limb left of it, and the trunks were littered with pieces of steel and iron.  Before the battle commenced, this spot was one of the loveliest places in the country round about that one could well imagine.  Flowers, shrubbery and the rarest of plants of all kinds were there in abundance.  This day it was a scarred ruin; the savagery of destruction was so terrible it is indescribable.

We wound our way amongst the dead and the wounded to the top of Mont Soreul, first stopping to take a peep at our old guns; they were still there, but badly battered up; Fritz evidently thought it was barely possible we might have a chance to use them again.  We reached our old telephonist’s hut on the hill, looked around for Lieutenant Matthews, but he wasn’t there; he had been wounded and taken prisoner.

We established lines of communication at once, to hold the Germans back while we built up our own front.  Our men were now coming back from their trip and our batteries put up one of the fiercest barrages I have ever witnessed to protect them on their return.

CHAPTER VIII

A BATH UNDER DIFFICULTIES

Over near Hooge was a large naval gun of high velocity and long range, mounted on an armored train.  The particular purpose of this nautical monster was to shoot up objects at short notice, such as a body of moving troops, a battery on the road, a train of ammunition wagons.  It was concealed in a tunnel made for its specific use, and when it would discharge its missives of destruction it would first project itself from the tunnel, send the message, and then shoot back inside.

It was at this time paying particular attention to the Square in Poperinghe,—­the little station and the hospital there,—­and it had become such a diabolical nuisance that it was determined to resort to heroic measures to “get it.”  A monster balloon was enlisted in the work and the mission of the floating bag was to direct the correspondence of one of our 9.2 naval guns, which was operating on a short railroad built by the Canadian Pacific Railway.  This railroad, I may add, has been doing mostly all the track laying and railroad operating for the Canadian forces in Flanders.  It was a matter of amazement for the natives to see how quickly a railroad could be placed and operated, and even the soldiers who were all more or less familiar with the workings of this magnificent system in Canada, were astonished at the speed with which the new machine, especially built by the Company for army purposes, would throw down the rails, fasten them—­presto! a railroad to order.