(_From the picture by F. Matania. By permission of The Sphere._)
"The green mist came rolling towards the parapet from the enemy's empty front trench, several hundred yards away. It looked like a vapour rising from a marsh, and the wind was strong enough to carry it rapidly towards the parapet. One battalion had time to fire two rounds through the screen of gas before it came pouring over the sand-bags, penetrating into every crevice of the dug-outs, and choking the men who lay there. It was so thick at first that objects three feet distant could scarcely be seen."]
Many of the men were struck down by the fumes, and the Royal Highlanders of Montreal, 13th Battalion, and the 48th Highlanders, 15th Battalion, specially suffered. For a short time the 48th were obliged to withdraw a short distance from their trench. Soon, however, they were their own men again, and they advanced and reoccupied their old position. The Germans, as you know, had long been striving to drive back the devoted 3rd Brigade, in order to sweep round and overwhelm its left wing. In the course of the attacks a large number of the enemy managed to slip in between the wood and St. Julien. For a time it seemed as though the Germans had succeeded, and that the last obstacle to their advance would be swept away. Not only the men of the 13th Battalion, but of every other battalion, fought like heroes to avert the danger. All that mortal men could do they did. Major Norsworthy, who had already been disabled by a bullet, was bayoneted and killed while rallying his men. Major M'Cuaig, who had been seriously wounded in a hastily-constructed trench, insisted on being left behind lest he should be a hindrance. So fierce and constant were the German attacks that orders were now given for the brigade to retire.
The men were very unwilling to withdraw, and they insisted, at great risk, on carrying with them their belongings. A wounded officer, following the example of Major M'Cuaig, refused to move, and asked his comrades to leave him alone in the trench. He begged them to give him two loaded Colt revolvers, and with these and his own weapon ready at hand, he prepared to sell his life dearly.
On Friday afternoon the left of the Canadian line was strengthened by the arrival of seven battalions of British troops. But the artillery fire of the enemy grew fiercer and fiercer, and it was clear that the Canadian salient could not be held against the fierce and constant attacks which were being launched against it; so, slowly and stubbornly contesting every yard of ground, the defenders fell back upon St. Julien, and then still farther south, until the deserted village was half a mile in front of their new lines. The Germans swarmed into the village, but before they could call it their own they had to reckon with detachments of the Royal Highlanders of Montreal and of the Royal Montreal Regiment, unavoidably left behind when the main body retired. What befell these devoted fellows in St. Julien we shall probably never know, but as the crack of their rifles did not cease for a long time, we may rest assured that they fought and died as worthy sons of Canada.