When I left the aerodrome to start for England I had a vague feeling I
would not be back again. I had heard nothing more about my transfer,
but the very fact that there was a great deal of uncertainty made me
anxious, and I remember, when leaving the old place, turning around
to have a last look at it. I was lucky to find a car going all the
way to Boulogne that day, and with four others, one of whom was going
back to England for good, made the trip. On the way we stopped at a
village where there was a famous farm for French police-dogs. We spent
an interesting hour there, while the French lady who owned the dogs
showed us all around her beautiful place. The dogs were of all ages,
from two-weeks old puppies to full French champions. We left there just
in time to reach Boulogne for luncheon--my last meal in France, as I
managed to catch a boat for England at 2 o’clock.
Eight o’clock that night saw me in London, and I was certainly glad
to get there. At 9 o’clock I was in the middle of a big dinner, given
by several of my friends, after which we went to a dance. It seemed
years since I had been near London, and every sight and every sound was
joyful to me. A few days later, though, I left town and went to the
country.
About this time word came through that I was not going back to France.
I was very disappointed. I reported for duty, but was given a few
weeks’ more leave in which to rest up. During this time I went to
the investiture by the King. I had, on the previous day, received a
telegram of instructions, telling me to report at Buckingham Palace
at 10.30 in the morning dressed in service uniform. At 10.10 I was
there, not wishing to be behind time on such an occasion, and realizing
I had better find out before it happened just what was expected of
me. Walking into the Palace I came to a hat-stand, where everybody
was checking things. I handed in my hat, gloves, and stick, whereupon
I was told to hang on to the gloves, wearing one on my left hand
and carrying the other. Then, following a number of other officers,
also there to be decorated, I came to a room in which a General was
standing. I asked him where I was to go, and he asked me what I was
getting. I began the long rigmarole of V.C., D.S.O., and M.C., but
before I had finished he told me to go in with the D.S.O.s, as I was
the only V.C. So I slipped away into a room where there were about 150
other officers. After waiting there for over half an hour, another
General came in, and gave us explicit instructions as to what to do in
the King’s presence. It was a terrible moment for all of us.
Finally, the doors opened and we were headed toward the room in which
the King was standing with his staff. Following some Generals and
Colonels, who were being admitted to the Order of St. Michael and St.
George, it came my turn to march in. I knew my instructions well. Ten
yards across to the middle of the room, and then a turn to the left and
bow. Imagine my consternation, when, at the first of those ten paces,
one of my boots began to squeak. Somehow or other I managed to get to
the proper place, where I was facing His Majesty. Here I had to listen
to an account of my own deeds, read by one of the staff, while I myself
stood stiffly at attention. Then, approaching the King, he hooked three
medals on my breast. These had been handed to him on a cushion. He
congratulated me on winning them, and said it was the first time he had
been able to give all three to any one person.
After a short, one-sided conversation, in which my only attempt to
speak failed utterly, although all I was trying to say was “Yes, sir,”
he shook hands with me, and I bowed and backed away, turning and
walking thirty squeaky paces to a door in the corner of the room. The
moment I reached the outside of this door I thought I had been thrown
into the arms of a highway robber. A man suddenly stepped from one
side, and before I could stop him had snatched the three glittering
medals off my chest, and was fifteen yards ahead of me on the way down
the hall before I realized what had happened. I took after him, not
knowing what to do, but he picked up three boxes from a table, put the
medals in, and handed them back to me. Then he returned to meet the
next man coming out, who incidentally was a great friend of mine and
also in the Flying Corps. The next thing to be feared was the crowd at
the Palace gates, and the photographers. Luckily, I had a car waiting
in the enclosure, and thus managed to evade everybody.
A week later I was promoted to the rank of Major, and also learned
that I had been awarded a bar to my Distinguished Service Order
ribbon. Good news, like bad luck, never comes singly. A few days after
that I heard I had been granted permission to go home to Canada for
a visit. The notice was short, but within eighteen hours I had made
all arrangements, and was on a train to catch the boat sailing from
Liverpool next day. Within two weeks I was home.
THE END
_Printed in Great Britain by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld.,
London and Aylesbury._
Transcriber’s Notes
Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a
predominant preference was found in the original book; otherwise they
were not changed.
Simple typographical errors were corrected; unbalanced quotation
marks were remedied when the change was obvious, and otherwise left
unbalanced.
Illustrations in this eBook have been positioned between paragraphs
and outside quotations. In versions of this eBook that support
hyperlinks, the page references in the List of Illustrations lead to
the corresponding illustrations.
Page 1: “Missisauga” was printed that way.