Incident at the Canal du Nord

by Sergeant Edgar Harold, 19th Battalion

My platoon, No 13 in "D" Company, 19th Battalion, was holding the line. We were separated by a short belt of woods from the Germans who were holding the Canal du Nord maybe 100 yards ahead. It was a fairly deep wide cut. 

Behind us on a hill was a new trench we had dug the night previous to taking over this line. The German artillery fire was directed over our heads to this area. We were established in what had been German Horse Lines. My 2nd in command, Corporal Jack Simon and I occupied a small hut, say 8' by 10'. The wall was blanketed to deaden sounds we might make and any evidence of light from inside. The rest of the platoon was stretched along the trench in small groups. We all spoke in whispers and someone had to be awake at all times. In the daytime Jack and I took turns on watch, but no untoward incidents took place until the one I am about to relate.

As darkness came down it was my custom to patrol the lines. I was standing up by a little desk looking over an aerial photo of the area. Jack, who had recently returned to the battalion after a long period recovering from wounds was cleaning his rifle behind me. He cleaned the barrel, put in a new clip of shells and instead of putting on his safety catch, pulled the trigger. The bullet went between my arm and body and blew the photo into nothingness. I looked at him in complete surprise... his face was ghostlike.

My main concern was what effect this would have on the Germans. We listened for some time, but there was no reaction. I said to Jack, "we're both lucky, no harm done, now let's get on with the inspection".  We stepped out of our cabin and inquired of the front section about the day's happening when I saw Jack was not following me. He told me later he was right at my feet, but couldn't move an inch as he was so shaken up. I selected another corporal to accompany me on my rounds.

The last sentry we visited was an original member of the battalion. One of two left. His name was "Frenchy" Hamal. No 55849. Frenchy was a very steady man, but he pointed out a small hut 30 to 40 feet into the woods and was sure he had heard or seen activity there. Feeling it would relieve him and set an example, I climbed out of the trench and walked toward the hut. It had a door which was closed. I surveyed the situation and came back. His mind was much relieved, and so was mine.

What brought this story back to mind? I came across a small pocket notebook I had not seen in years. I was looking up Homel's name on my nominal roll written a few days before my own departure on October 10, 1918, thanks to a machine gun bullet which creased my left leg. The whole incident came back with crystal clearness. I was reminded I had returned to the battalion at my own request after a long period as an instructor at the divisional school and felt I must 'win my spurs' in the field. I was happy with my decision and this continued until the decisions were transferred to others on October 10th. Jack Simon who took over our platoon from me lost his life in battle near Mons, France November 11, 1918.