Word: ypres
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...April 22, 1915 a brisk wind was blowing from the German lines in the Ypres sector toward the trenches held by French and Algerian troops. Shortly after 5 p. m. the Allied soldiers saw a sinister greenish cloud rolling toward them across No Man's Land. Some of them broke and ran; thousands stuck to their posts or fled too late. Soon the trenches were heaped with gasping, choking, dying men. The gas was chlorine, 168 tons of which were released that day from 5,730 cylinders over a four-mile front. There were 15,000 casualties including...
...pounder howitzers and whether "the explosion can be combined with suffocating effect of certain offensive gases." The stink shells were not tried. At The Hague Conference of 1899 an agreement banning the use of gas projectiles was signed by 24 nations including Germany. After the chlorine attack at Ypres, Allied and U. S. newspapers roared that this new deviltry was a violation of The Hague agreement. Literally it was not, since the chlorine was projected from cylinders. This fine distinction was soon forgotten and both sides began loading gas enthusiastically into artillery shells...
...took up his water colors just once more, in the trenches at Wytschaete, Belgium, where he had saved the life of his commanding officer. The title of this last gloomy picture of broken masonry, trees, earth, was A Ravine Near Ypres (1914). Four years of War killed off many a better painter but Adolf Hitler survived, to give up art for politics...
...Canadian forces in France, principal and vice-chancellor since 1920 of McGill University; of pneumonia and cerebral thrombosis; in Montreal. Onetime teacher, realtor, insurance man, he commanded a volunteer regiment when War came, took an infantry brigade to France. He rose rapidly, won fame at the second battle of Ypres where his men faced poison gas for the first time, became Commander-in-chief in 1917. After his triumphal return, there were whispers that he sacrificed his men in a vainglorious desire to have the Canadians fire the last shot on Armistice Day. When a newspaper printed the story...
Tommies who ploughed through Flanders' mud to Ypres, doughboys who marched through the black night into the Argonne. soldiers who were herded aboard transports and troop trains, recruits who dug straddle ditches and loaded ammunition until their backs were fairly broken, had one song which helped more than any other to see them through the War. In leaky barracks, smoky cafes and on endless marches ''There's a Long. Long Trail'' was sung rowdily, nostalgically. Last week, in Spokane, Wash., after five months of sleeping sickness, Death took Stoddard King, the man who wrote...