The Silent Warriors: How Canadian Tunnellers Carved Victory at Vimy Ridge
The forgotten engineers whose underground labours changed the course of WWI
April 9, 1917, Vimy Ridge: The light flickered from an overhead lantern, swinging gently with each distant rumble of artillery fire above. Twelve metres (approximately 40 feet) below the surface, Canadian tunneller Sergeant Samuel “Sam” Glode pressed his ear against a damp wooden beam, straining to hear any sound beyond his own heartbeat.
Chalky soil caked his uniform and filled his nostrils with its earthy scent. Sweat trickled down his back despite the cool underground air. His fingers, raw from hours of digging, tightened around the handle of his pickaxe. He held his breath, listening intently for the faint scraping that might reveal German tunnellers working just beyond the wall.
Every muscle tensed with the knowledge that only inches of French soil separated him from the enemy, and that a single wrong move could trigger explosives that would bury him alive beneath Vimy Ridge.
A moment of relief: Glode nodded, indicating no enemy sounds had been detected. The tunnellers returned to their work, digging steadily, preparing for a battle that would help turn the tide of the war on French soil.
Deep beneath Vimy Ridge, this was a war fought in whispers and darkness. Here, Canada’s miners became warriors, and victory would not come from the clash of armies above, but from the silent struggle carried out beneath no man’s land.
I’m so glad you’re here to read about a group of Canadians who rarely get their fair share of the limelight: the tunnellers who worked beneath the surface at Vimy Ridge.
You’ve probably heard plenty about soldiers storming muddy fields during World War I, but the story beneath those fields is just as gripping. It’s a chapter of history I think many will find both surprising and inspiring.
So let’s head back to the era of the Great War, and discover how these “forgotten engineers” helped shape Canada’s most famous victory of the First World War.
World War I began on July 28, 1914. For Canada, the war officially began a week later, on August 4, when the United Kingdom declared war on Germany. At the time, Canada was still a British Dominion, meaning we didn’t control our own foreign policy. When Britain entered the war, Canada was automatically pulled into it as well.
Despite that, Canadians were not reluctant participants. Quite the opposite. When the call went out for 25,000 volunteers, more than 33,000 men enlisted within weeks. Most had little to no combat experience, but they believed in the cause and were eager to serve.
At the time, Canada’s military was small, being comprised of just over 3,000 regular troops, so these volunteers were essential. They shipped out by the fall of 1914, becoming the first wave of what would grow into a formidable Canadian fighting force.
By early 1916, over 330,000 Canadians had volunteered. The country’s military had expanded dramatically, and Canadian troops were gaining a reputation for their grit and effectiveness on the battlefield. But the war in Europe was brutal.
Trench warfare created stalemates. Massive offensives often resulted in little territorial gain and horrific casualties. Areas like the Somme River became symbols of this grim reality. Key positions in France that were too heavily fortified and defended for the Allies to break through.
So instead, they were forced to dig in and build their own fortified system of defensive positions and trenches. Each side then took turns trying to advance or push the other back. Some battles dragged on for days, weeks, or even months, with body counts climbing higher and no clear gains on either side.
Between Allied and German trenches were stretches of “no man’s land,” sometimes only a few dozen meters wide, riddled with craters, barbed wire, bodies, and constant danger. It was called “no man’s land” because neither side dared to occupy it; doing so meant almost certain death.
Soldiers positioned on the front faced daily threats from artillery, machine-gun fire, snipers, and poison gas. It was in these conditions that a new kind of warfare emerged: tunnelling.
Both sides began digging under no man’s land to place explosives beneath enemy trenches. And from the earliest days of trench warfare, it had become apparent that soldiers with specialized mining skills were urgently needed. The British Army formally organized tunnelling companies in 1915, and by 1916, Canada was asked to contribute.
It made sense that folks already skilled in dynamite, pickaxes, and hauling rubble could be turned into soldiers with a special set of underground talents. Canada had a growing mining industry and thousands of men with experience in tough, physical labour who had previously worked on the railway or in construction. They knew how to work underground, handle explosives, and reinforce unstable spaces.
Many Canadian volunteers who came forward had worked in gold mines in Ontario or Quebec, coal mines in Nova Scotia and Alberta, or silver mines in British Columbia.
These folks knew their way around cramped shafts, black powder, and the daily threat of cave-ins. Others came from engineering or construction trades, bringing expertise in calculating loads, measuring structural stress, and planning complex projects.
Canada formed three dedicated tunnelling companies. These "forgotten engineers" operated in darkness, digging through soil and rock to create underground networks for movement, supply, and surprise attacks. Their work was exhausting, claustrophobic, and incredibly dangerous—but essential.
Nowhere was their impact more critical than at Vimy Ridge. While Canadian infantry and artillery played a major role in that famous April 1917 battle, it was the work of tunnellers, quietly carving out subways beneath the battlefield, that helped make such a coordinated, successful assault possible.
Today, we’ll shed light on their story.
It was one thing to recruit tough and talented miners; it was another to prepare them for the Front. Tunnellers needed standard military discipline before they could be deployed, like marching, rifle drills, and so on.
They also required extra classes on how to handle things they’d encounter at the Front, like:
Timbering and Shoring: Reinforcing tunnel walls and ceilings, especially in chalky or clay-rich French soils that could collapse under a heavy artillery hit.
Ventilation: Bringing fresh air into tunnels and pushing out dangerous, often weaponized gases.
Explosive Handling: Setting charges without compromising a tunnel’s structural integrity, and defusing or detecting enemy explosives.
Listening Posts: Using geophones or just your ear against a wooden beam to pick up faint digging noises from the other side.
By early 1916, our three tunnelling companies shipped off to war. Though every tunnelling company was different, they shared the same backbreaking pace once they arrived at the Western Front. Men often worked long shifts in damp, unlit cavities below the surface.
You can imagine how that would rattle your nerves, knowing that a single missed support beam or a solitary enemy explosive could bring tonnes of soil crashing down.
The Canadian tunnellers didn’t operate in isolation, though. They worked closely with British and Australian units, trading ideas, manpower, and resources. Each group learned from the others’ experiences, be it lessons about where to place listening devices or how to dispose of rubble quietly at night. The varied and collective expertise in subterranean excavation became a crucial component of the Allied war effort.
By the time Vimy Ridge loomed as the next big battlefield, these men had honed their skills and were ready to do something never before done on such a large scale.
Vimy Ridge, in northern France, was a high ground with a sweeping view of the Douai Plain. Early on, the German Army recognized its importance and had spent two years fortifying it.
They dug multiple lines of trenches, bunkers, and machine-gun nests there. They also zeroed in their artillery on any open approach. So attacking Vimy from above the ground was a daunting and near-impossible feat.
When the Canadian Corps took over the Allied side of this sector in late 1916, our commanders decided on secrecy and surprise. Sure, a massive artillery bombardment would be part of the plan. But there was also a quieter approach that was part of the attack.
It involved digging beneath the battlefield, beneath the deadly no man’s land, to bring thousands of Canadian and Allied troops closer to enemy lines without the enemy spotting them and being able to pick them off out in the open.
By April 1917, the Canadians and their allied British tunnellers had created a vast network below Vimy Ridge. We’re talking about over 20 kilometers of tunnels, multiple “subway lines,” some wide enough to move entire companies of soldiers underground, and several smaller tunnels (called saps) that led even closer to German positions, and sometimes were designed to place explosives right under an enemy trench.
One famous tunnel, the Grange Subway, connected rear support lines to the Front. It stretched over a kilometer, had wooden beams for support, and was fitted with 220-volt electric lighting.
Lamps in a muddy frontline war might seem like a luxury, but that’s what the tunnellers installed. They even built tramways to haul ammunition and supplies along metal rails, just like a mini railway system underground.
Some subways had side chambers acting as first-aid posts, storage rooms for grenades, or sleeping quarters for brief rests. You could find thousands of men sheltering beneath the surface, waiting for the moment to emerge and attack. It was backbreaking and extremely dangerous work on the front end, but if the Allied plans worked, it would lead to critical efficiencies and a vastly safer way to approach the attack than previous battles.
You might be surprised to learn that digging a tunnel involves a lot more than just shoveling dirt. These men faced cold and wet conditions underground. Water seeped into their tunnels constantly, often requiring pumps to run all day just to give the men a chance to keep digging.
The threat of cave-ins was all too real as well. A stray artillery shell hitting the ground above could shake loose the entire gallery. Beyond that, toxic gas from enemy shells might leak in if ventilation wasn’t set up correctly.
Poison gas was first used by the Germans at Ypres in 1915 and soon adopted by all major powers. Common gases that were weaponized were: Chlorine, which causes choking and suffocation, Phosgene, which was more deadly than chlorine, and Mustard gas, which burned your skin and lungs, caused blindness and intense lingering agony.
Although the tunnelers were issued gas masks, you can appreciate how difficult it would’ve been to keep digging tunnels while battling all of these perilous conditions and sometimes having to wear a gas mask.
However, the tunnellers pushed on. Working with hand tools, they hauled out chalk or clay in sandbags, sometimes using trolleys on narrow-gauge rails. The pace was punishing. A typical shift lasted around six hours, and in some sections, they might advance only eight feet in that time. If they hit a patch of rock or encountered heavy water infiltration, progress could grind to a complete halt.
There was also an understated psychological toll that the tunnellers had to deal with. Imagine being deep below no man’s land and then hearing faint scraping sounds through the tunnel walls, and realizing the enemy might actually be tunnelling toward you at that very moment.
If the two sides broke into each other’s tunnels—something that did happen from time to time—close-quarters combat would erupt in total darkness, fought with picks, shovels, knives, or even fists. It was a special kind of horror that no one above ground could fully comprehend.
You might wonder if these men had any rest during these grueling digging campaigns. They did, but it wasn’t comfortable. Tunnellers often paused their physical work to listen. It was more about maintaining secrecy than getting a real break from the work.
Picture someone pressing a wooden stethoscope (or a more advanced listening device) against the wall, trying to pick out any scraping or tapping as people quietly slowed their breathing and maybe took a glug of water and wiped the sweat from their face.
If they ever heard enemy diggers, they’d only have two split-second choices to make. Either immediately shift the tunnel’s direction or prepare for a confrontation. This kind of tension weighed on everyone’s mind as they worked underground.
When the digging teams got lucky, they might be able to set up a counter-mine. That meant placing explosives so carefully that you blew the other side’s tunnel up first before they realized you were close. But if you messed up, you risked bringing your own roof down. Killing tunnelers and wasting any efforts that went into building your tunnel, which was often the product of days or weeks worth of digging.
Now, although many of our brave tunnelers were unknown and their efforts forgotten or unrecognized, we do have a few records that can help us to understand what it was like.
One Canadian who stands out is Sam Glode, a Mi’kmaw tunneller from Nova Scotia. He came from a background of manual labor and had the resilience that was common among many Indigenous miners of the time.
At Vimy, he spent hours stooped in claustrophobic spaces. He later shared that he was always keenly aware of the threat of gas attacks. His diaries and recollections make it clear he understood each day was a gamble. Yet he never hesitated to return to the tunnels and do his part, because he knew it mattered to the overall battle.
Then there’s Gunner Richard Walter Rayner, who once wrote about being on top of what he feared might be a German mine, feeling every breath could set it off. I can’t imagine the claustrophobia and feeling of being trapped in such situations.
You’d think such tension might drive a person to refuse the work, but that wasn’t an option. From most accounts, morale was actually surprisingly high. Partly because these men understood how essential they were. If they failed to carve out the subways, the next big assault might cost more Canadian and Allied lives above ground, and that was something every one of them desperately wanted to avoid.
Despite the dark conditions, there was a strong camaraderie among tunnellers. The Canadian tunnelers called themselves “The Beavers” because of the little iconic Canadian animal’s industriousness, a critter known for constantly digging and building.
They shared jokes in the dim lantern light, scribbled graffiti on chalk walls, and supported each other through accidents or near misses. In some accounts, tunnellers even brought small mementos from home: a lucky charm or a family photo pinned inside their tunnel helmet, which helped them when they needed a reminder of who they were fighting for.
All this might sound a bit gloomier than the glorious standard battlefield narrative, but it also shows the resilience of these men who literally carried out the war’s most secret tasks. Next, we’ll see how it all paid off during the now famous Battle of Vimy Ridge.
At 4:00 am during the early hours of April 9, 1917 (Easter Monday), the Canadian Corps prepared for an attack they’d rehearsed for weeks. Thousands of troops quietly assembled inside the tunnels that our tunnelers and their Allies had just completed. Some tried to nap. Others sat in tense silence, listening to artillery batteries above as they made final calibrations.
Around 4:30 am, Officers passed word through the subways, reminding everyone of the plan. Tunnellers checked for any leaks or partial collapses. In some places, water had to be pumped out even at the last minute. One non-commissioned officer called it a “hushed excitement,” with everyone fully aware that this was their moment to truly prove Canada’s strength on the world stage.
Artillery teams above ground completed their final adjustments by 5:00 am. Inside the tunnels, the Canadian infantry and engineers stood shoulder to shoulder, waiting for the signal. Water and ration checks were done.
Then, at precisely 5:30 AM, more than a thousand Allied guns unleashed a well-planned bombardment in what was one of the most intense and accurate barrages of the war. The ground shook. Men in the tunnels felt bits of earth rain down from above, but the supports held up.
Meanwhile, the first wave of Canadian infantry slipped out through tunnel exits opening into or near no man’s land.
Within minutes, entire companies were on the move, hidden just moments earlier by the soil overhead. The Germans were stunned. Instead of seeing lines of Canadians climbing out of distant trenches in plain view as was customary in trench warfare up to that point, they suddenly faced fresh troops popping up like groundhogs in random spots close by. This was the planned element of surprise, executed at its finest.
While the infantry advanced, the tunnellers stayed busy. Just because they had completed their initial tunneling assignments didn’t mean there wasn’t still work to be done. Some had to deal with partial collapses caused by shell strikes on the surface. They quickly shored up braces and cleared debris so more troops and supplies could flow through. Others guided stretcher-bearers carrying wounded men back down into the safer underground routes.
Telephone cables laid in the tunnels also provided a critical direct line to higher command. If the above-ground lines of communication got severed by shellfire, the underground lines still needed to work. So tunnellers listened for any enemy attempts to breach or sabotage the subways from behind. Communication was vital; a single message about an enemy strongpoint could let the Canadian artillery zero in quickly in eliminate the threat.
One of the biggest challenges of trench warfare was how to attack without being slaughtered by machine guns and artillery before even reaching enemy lines. At Vimy Ridge, the Canadian Corps used a breakthrough tactic called the “creeping barrage.”
This was a carefully timed artillery strategy developed by the British a few years earlier and perfected by the Canadians at Vimy, where shells would land just ahead of advancing infantry, forcing German troops to stay hunkered down in their bunkers. This allowed the infantry to advance while covered by Allied artillery fire.
The artillery line would then shift forward every few minutes, and each time, the Canadian infantry would follow closely behind, staying just a few dozen meters back from the exploding shells in front of them.
Thanks to the tunnels, many Canadian troops were able to start their advance much closer to the German lines than usual. Emerging from underground right before the barrage began, they were often on top of enemy positions before the defenders could fully react. It was risky, but devastatingly effective, and a major factor in the Canadian success at Vimy Ridge.
By mid-morning, reports came back that key points of the first German trench line, known as the Black Line, had already fallen to Canadian troops. Underground in the tunnels, the pace hardly slowed. Tunnellers worked as rescue teams if a tunnel entrance caved in. They also expanded or adapted side chambers into first-aid stations when casualties started returning from the front.
Think about the lives that were saved due to aid being able to be rendered in the safety of underground tunnels just meters away from the front line and without the threat of enemy fire. Although it was a hectic environment, it was masterfully orchestrated. And it worked.
As the day wore on, large sections of Vimy Ridge were now in Canadian hands. The engineers—both on the surface and below—continued their tasks: strengthening any tunnel areas weakened by the bombardment, recovering bodies near tunnel entrances, ferrying more ammo forward if the lines advanced faster than expected, and using underground phone lines to direct Canadian and British artillery fire onto remaining German positions.
At one point, a group of tunnellers near a subway exit in the central sector reported that a heavy German shell had collapsed part of the entry, trapping half a dozen men inside. For nearly 20 minutes, a frantic rescue effort ensued. Miners used picks to break through the collapsed chalk, carefully avoiding any further cave-ins. Ultimately, they freed the trapped men, all of whom survived but were severely shaken.
By nightfall, the Canadians had achieved most of their primary objectives, including making it to the crest of Vimy Ridge.
Sporadic fighting went on, especially around Hill 145 (the highest point), which would be fully secured by April 10. But the biggest challenge, storming this heavily fortified ridge, was accomplished in a single day. And the success owed a lot to the tunnellers who enabled the Corps to strike from below.
Over the next few days, the Canadians mopped up enemy pockets. The final holdout, known as “The Pimple,” fell on April 12. Some tunnellers then shifted roles from offensive to defensive tasks, ensuring newly occupied areas were stable. Tunnels built as offensive subways suddenly became supply routes for further pushes or, in some cases, sheltered command posts.
Sappers also scoured captured tunnels for booby traps. German tunnellers had been busy too, but the Canadians proved more adept at large-scale underground logistics.
The results at Vimy were clear: a quick Canadian victory where other Allied attacks in previous years had failed. France and Britain had each tried to capture Vimy Ridge before, at enormous costs. The Canadians got it done in four days.
After the ridge was taken, the job of safely cleaning up began. Tunnellers, along with infantry details, removed unexploded shells or bombs. They also relocated or dismantled any leftover demolition charges. Although the big fight was over, many men were still injured or at risk. The subways served as a safer route for carrying wounded soldiers to field hospitals behind the lines.
As many people now know, Vimy Ridge had a massive impact on Canadian morale. Newspaper headlines back home declared that Canadians had done what was previously thought impossible.
It was a step toward Canada’s emerging national identity, as all four divisions of the Canadian Corps fought together for the first time. The tunnellers, though mostly unnamed in those front-page stories, played an irreplaceable role in delivering that triumph.
To be clear, there was tremendous sorrow following the Battle of Vimy Ridge as well. During the victory the Canadian Corps suffered 10,602 casualties, including 3,598 killed. But from a tactical and strategic point of view, it was a major achievement, proving that with careful planning—above and below ground—the Allies could crack Germany’s defenses and minimize their own casualties.
The Canadian Tunnellers didn’t just pack up and go home after Vimy. They were soon working on other sectors, such as Messines Ridge in mid-1917.
There, the Allies launched a series of giant mine explosions that rocked German positions. Many historians call that attack one of the most successful underground operations of the entire war. Once again, tunnellers from Canada, Britain, and Australia combined efforts and used the lessons learned from earlier battles like Vimy.
As the Allies pushed forward on the Western Front, their main strategy remained the same as what led to the success of Vimy Ridge: tunnelling under enemy lines to plant charges, cause collapses, or build secret passages that would let troops appear unexpectedly.
Then, a year and a half after victory at Vimy, the war finally came to an end on November 11, 1918.
The lessons learned from the Canadian tunnelling efforts influenced post-war military engineering doctrines. Although large-scale trench stalemates with tunnelling were less common in World War II, the interwar period saw major strides in the development of demolition and sapper techniques, bridging, and fortress construction.
Many of the men who served as tunnellers carried those skills into civilian life, helping to develop infrastructure such as mines, railways, and hydroelectric projects across Canada.
Right after Vimy Ridge, the headlines mostly celebrated the infantry charge and the brilliant artillery plan. Engineers got a bit of credit, but specialized tunnellers? Far less so.
Perhaps the secrecy around their underground work contributed to this, as Allied nations wanted to keep their strategies close to the vest. Or maybe the public found it easier to grasp the heroism of soldiers leaping out of trenches and running, guns blazing towards the enemy, than the slow grind of men with picks and shovels under no man’s land. Whatever the reason, the tunnellers often stayed in the shadows of history.
Thankfully, though, Veterans’ groups later worked to correct that, pointing out how many casualties occurred from tunnelling accidents, gas leaks, collapses, or sudden underground fights.
Over the decades, diaries and memoirs emerged, giving us a window into that hidden world underneath the battlefields of WWI. People began to realize that the victory at Vimy was more than a straightforward “over the top” attack; it was also months of patient, dangerous spadework below the surface.
If you visit the Canadian National Vimy Memorial today, you’ll find tributes to all who served in the Canadian Corps. Tunnellers’ names appear on the lists of the missing and the fallen, just like infantrymen or artillery gunners.
Families of the 1500 - 2000 former Canadian tunnellers have formed associations to remember their unique role. Some genealogists love to discover that a great-grandfather was “one of the guys underground,” which often sparks further research and reflection.
The Government of Canada recognizes Vimy Ridge as a key moment in the country’s coming-of-age on the international scene. And that story now increasingly includes the men who built the hidden highways beneath the battlefield.
Today, only small sections of the tunnels constructed at Vimy remain, such as a preserved portion of the Grange Subway. Tourists can still walk in these spaces and sense the closeness, the dampness, and the quiet as they try to imagine what it must’ve been like over a century ago for the brave men who worked on the tunnels. It’s a stark reminder of the Canadians who laboured away for years underground during the war.
The Canadian Tunnellers took everyday skills from mines and construction sites back home and adapted them to a war that devoured people at an alarming rate. They used their wits to solve problems nobody had tackled on such a grand scale. Ventilation systems, tramways, and advanced methods of listening for enemy diggers were not trivial feats in 1917.
Their work also forced the Germans to worry about threats from below, adding to the stress of an already brutal conflict. One German soldier famously said, “You can dig in to escape shellfire, but there’s no hiding from tunnellers beneath you.” That psychological effect was a real advantage for the Allies.
It’s important to remember that tunnellers faced a particular kind of terror. They didn’t see the sun for long stretches. They worked in tunnels sometimes only four feet high, with the risk of sudden flooding or toxic gas. Cave-ins could bury men alive, and no rescue was guaranteed. They wore the same uniforms as other soldiers but handled drastically different daily tasks.
The story of Sam Glode or Gunner Rayner underscores the personal toll. Each day for them was an exercise in holding onto courage. Rayner wrote about feeling as if every inhale might be his last if he happened to be perched on top of an enemy bomb. Glode endured cramped, suffocating conditions while also facing potential racism as an Indigenous soldier. Yet they pressed on, unified by the mission.
Despite these perilous conditions, Golde and Rayner survived and continued their service. After the war, Rayner returned to Canada and lived until 1973, passing away at the age of 81.
Sam Golde was awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal for his bravery in removing 450 demolition charges during the advance toward Germany in November 1918. After the war, Glode returned to Nova Scotia and resumed his work as a hunting and fishing guide. He passed away on October 25, 1957, at Camp Hill Hospital in Halifax.
So, why should we keep talking about these tunnellers now, more than a century after the war ended? The simplest answer is that they gave us an example of creativity and determination under horrifying conditions. We like to celebrate Canada’s resourcefulness in times of crisis, and the tunnellers were a perfect example of that.
They turned the skills they’d gained in civilian life, like mining, carpentry, and engineering, into a powerful advantage on the battlefield.
The next time you think of Canadian inventions or resourcefulness, you might recall these men who quietly dug their way into history. Some emerged from tunnels covered in chalk dust, hearing the victory cheers overhead. Some stayed underground to hold the line, never fully recognized in the war stories of the day.
Yet if the Battle of Vimy Ridge truly marked a turning point for Canada, the tunnellers deserve to stand in the spotlight too. They helped create that turning point by carving out an underground path to success.
When you visit the ridge or see photos of those restored tunnels, remember there’s a whole chapter of our history that happened in the dark, guided by candlelight and the grit of those who believed they could win from deep below the earth’s surface.
Your turn:
What do you think about this story? Were you aware of the role miners and engineers played during World War I, particularly at Vimy Ridge?
Why do you think their efforts aren’t commemorated as often as the soldiers who fought on the ground above them?
Drop a comment below to share your thoughts. As always, I look forward to reading and responding to them all.
And then, have a rad rest of your day!
Sources used to research this story:
https://macleans.ca/news/canada/how-precision-planning-made-canadas-vimy-ridge-victory-possible/
https://cmea-agmc.ca/tunnellers%E2%80%99-cup
https://vimyfoundation.ca/learn/vimy-ridge
https://public.cdn.cloud.veterans.gc.ca/pdf/memorials/overseas/TunnelTrenchBrochure-e.pdf
https://www.espritdecorps.ca/history-feature/the-battle-of-vimy-ridge-part-1-preparing-the-attack
https://vimyridge.valourcanada.ca/the-road-to-vimy-ridge/gearing-up/tunnels-and-trenches/
https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/vimy-ridge
https://www.warmuseum.ca/articles/the-battle-of-vimy-ridge-april-9-to-12-1917
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Vimy_Ridge
http://cbww1.ca/eng/lessons/john-roderick-mcdougall.php
https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/montreal/vimy-ridge-montreal-crater-milne-1.4062902
https://valourcanada.ca/military-history-library/trenches-tunnels/
https://scholars.wlu.ca/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1943&context=cmh
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tunnelling_companies_of_the_Royal_Engineers
https://publications.gc.ca/collections/collection_2017/mdn-dnd/D2-90-2017-eng.pdf
https://www.greatwarforum.org/topic/158798-canadian-tunnelling-company/
Thanks for scrolling all the way to the bottom! If it’s not too much to ask, I’d appreciate it if you’d share this story with anyone that you think might enjoy it.
As you probably know, I’m on a mission to uncover and share amazing Canadian stories and history like this with as many people as I can reach.
Our stories are important, and they deserve to be remembered and talked about.
A fabulous story I had never heard before. Thank you so much for sharing it.
We were in Normandy last summer and were so moved by revisiting the history of our valiant Canadian troops who fought for our freedom. Thank you Craig for this important and wonderful account! Lest we forget...