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[Illustration: Frontispiece]
The Great War as I Saw It
[Illustration: Frederick George Scott.]
The Great War as I Saw It
by
Canon Frederick George Scott, C.M.G., D.S.O.
_Late Senior Chaplain_
_First Canadian Division, C.E.F._
Author of "Later Canadian Poems," and "Hymn of the Empire."
F. D. GOODCHILD COMPANY
Publishers Toronto
Copyright, Canada, 1922
by Frederick George Scott
CONTENTS (p. 005)
PAGE
CHAPTER I.
How I got into the War--July to September, 1914 15
CHAPTER II.
The Voyage to England--September 29th to October 18th, 1914 25
CHAPTER III.
On Salisbury Plain--October 18th, 1914 to January 1st, 1915 30
CHAPTER IV.
Off to France--January to March, 1915 34
CHAPTER V.
Before the Storm--March and April, 1915 48
CHAPTER VI.
The Second Battle of Ypres--April 22nd, 1915 55
CHAPTER VII.
Festubert and Givenchy--May and June, 1915 74
CHAPTER VIII.
A Lull in Operations--Ploegsteert, July to December, 1915 93
CHAPTER IX.
Our First Christmas in France 118
CHAPTER X.
Spring, 1916 122
CHAPTER XI.
The Attack on Mount Sorrel--Summer, 1916 128
CHAPTER XII.
The Battle of the Somme--Autumn, 1916 134
CHAPTER XIII.
Our Home at Camblain l'Abbe--November, 1916 149
CHAPTER XIV.
My Search is Rewarded 154
CHAPTER XV.
A Time of Preparation--Christmas, 1916 to April, 1917 159
CHAPTER XVI.
The Capture of Vimy Ridge--April 9th, 1917 167
CHAPTER XVII.
A Month on the Ridge--April and May, 1917 173
CHAPTER XVIII. (p. 006)
A Well-earned Rest--May and June, 1917 179
CHAPTER XIX.
Paris Leave--June, 1917 186
CHAPTER XX.
We take Hill 70--July and August, 1917 192
CHAPTER XXI.
Every day Life--August and September, 1917 203
CHAPTER XXII.
A Tragedy of War 210
CHAPTER XXIII.
Visits to Rome and Paschendaele--Oct. and Nov., 1917 216
CHAPTER XXIV.
Our Last War Christmas 230
CHAPTER XXV.
Victory Year Opens--January and February, 1918 234
CHAPTER XXVI.
The German Offensive--March, 1918 240
CHAPTER XXVII.
In Front of Arras--April, 1918 248
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Sports and Pastimes--May and June, 1918 254
CHAPTER XXIX.
The Beginning of the End 267
CHAPTER XXX.
The Battle of Amiens--August 8th to August 16th, 1918 274
CHAPTER XXXI.
We Return to Arras--August, 1918 288
CHAPTER XXXII.
The Smashing of the Drocourt-Queant Line--Sept. 2nd, 1918 292
CHAPTER XXXIII.
Preparing for the Final Blow--September, 1918 298
CHAPTER XXXIV.
The Crossing of the Canal du Nord--September 27th, 1918 307
CHAPTER XXXV.
VICTORY--November 11th, 1918 318
INDEX 321
TO (p. 007)
THE OFFICERS AND MEN
OF THE
FIRST CANADIAN DIVISION, C.E.F.
"THE UNBROKEN LINE."
We who have trod the borderlands of death,
Where courage high walks hand in hand with fear,
Shall we not hearken what the Spirit saith,
"All ye were brothers there, be brothers here?"
We who have struggled through the baffling night,
Where men were men and every man divine,
While round us brave hearts perished for the right
By chaliced shell-holes stained with life's rich wine.
Let us not lose the exalted love which came
From comradeship with danger and the joy
Of strong souls kindled into living flame
By one supreme desire, one high employ.
Let us draw closer in these narrower years,
Before us still the eternal visions spread;
We who outmastered death and all its fears
Are one great army still, living and dead.
F. G. S.
FOREWORD (p. 009)
It is with great pleasure I accede to the request of Canon Scott to
write a foreword to his book.
I first heard of my friend and comrade after the second battle of
Ypres when he accompanied his beloved Canadians to Bethune after their
glorious stand in that poisonous gap--which in my own mind he
immortalised in verse:--
O England of our fathers, and England of our sons,
Above the roar of battling hosts, the thunder of the guns,
A mother's voice was calling us, we heard it oversea,
The blood which thou didst give us, is the blood we spill for thee.
Little did I think when I first saw him that he could possibly, at his
time of life, bear the rough and tumble of the heaviest fighting in
history, and come through with buoyancy of spirit younger men envied
and older men recognized as the sign and fruit of self-forgetfulness
and the inspiration and cheering of others.
Always in the thick of the fighting, bearing almost a charmed life,
ignoring any suggestion that he should be posted to a softer job
"further back," he held on to the very end.
The last time I saw him was in a hospital at Etaples badly wounded,
yet cheery as ever--having done his duty nobly.
All the Canadians in France knew him, and his devotion and
fearlessness were known all along the line, and his poems will, I am
bold to prophesy, last longer in the ages to come than most of the
histories of the war.
I feel sure that his book--if anything like himself--will interest and
inspire all who read it.
LLEWELLYN H. GWYNNE.
_Bishop of Khartoum,
Deputy Chaplain General
to the C. of E. Chaplains
in France._
PREFACE (p. 011)
It is with a feeling of great hesitation that I send out this account
of my personal experiences in the Great War. As I read it over, I am
dismayed at finding how feebly it suggests the bitterness and the
greatness of the sacrifice of our men. As the book is written from an
entirely personal point of view, the use of the first personal pronoun
is of course inevitable, but I trust that the narration of my
experience has been used only as a lens through which the great and
glorious deeds of our men may be seen by others. I have refrained, as
far as possible, except where circumstances seemed to demand it, from
mentioning the names of officers or the numbers of battalions.
I cannot let the book go out without thanking, for many acts of
kindness, Lieut.-General Sir Edwin Alderson, K.C.B., Lieut.-General
Sir Arthur Currie, G.C.M.G., K.C.B., and Major-General Sir Archibald
Macdonell, K.C.B., C.M.G., D.S.O., who were each in turn Commanders of
the First Canadian Division. In all the efforts the chaplains made for
the welfare of the Division, they always had the backing of these true
Christian Knights. Their kindness and consideration at all times were
unbounded, and the degree of liberty which they allowed me was a
privilege for which I cannot be too thankful, and which I trust I did
not abuse.
If, by these faulty and inadequate reminiscences, dug out of memories
which have blended together in emotions too deep and indefinable to be
expressed in words, I have reproduced something of the atmosphere in
which our glorious men played their part in the deliverance of the
world, I shall consider my task not in vain.
May the ears of Canada never grow deaf to the plea of widows and
orphans and our crippled men for care and support. May the eyes of
Canada never be blind to that glorious light which shines upon our
young national life from the deeds of those "Who counted not their
lives dear unto themselves," and may the lips of Canada never be dumb
to tell to future generations the tales of heroism which will kindle
the imagination and fire the patriotism of children that are yet
unborn.
The Great War as I Saw It (p. 013)
CHAPTER I. (p. 015)
HOW I GOT INTO THE WAR.
_July to September, 1914._
It happened on this wise. It was on the evening of the 31st of July,
1914, that I went down to a newspaper office in Quebec to stand amid
the crowd and watch the bulletins which were posted up every now and
then, and to hear the news of the war. One after another the reports
were given, and at last there flashed upon the board the words,
"General Hughes offers a force of twenty thousand men to England in
case war is declared against Germany." I turned to a friend and said,
"That means that I have got to go to the war." Cold shivers went up
and down my spine as I thought of it, and my friend replied, "Of
course it does not mean that you should go. You have a parish and
duties at home." I said, "No. I am a Chaplain of the 8th Royal Rifles.
I must volunteer, and if I am accepted, I will go." It was a queer
sensation, because I had never been to war before and I did not know
how I should be able to stand the shell fire. I had read in books of
people whose minds were keen and brave, but whose hind legs persisted
in running away under the sound of guns. Now I knew that an ordinary
officer on running away under fire would get the sympathy of a large
number of people, who would say, "The poor fellow has got shell
shock," and they would make allowance for him. But if a chaplain ran
away, about six hundred men would say at once, "We have no more use
for religion." So it was with very mingled feelings that I
contemplated an expedition to the battle-fields of France, and I
trusted that the difficulties of Europe would be settled without our
intervention.
However, preparations for war went on. On Sunday, August 2nd, in the
afternoon, I telephoned to Militia Headquarters and gave in my name as
a volunteer for the Great War. When I went to church that evening and
told the wardens that I was off to France, they were much surprised
and disconcerted. When I was preaching at the service and looked down
at the congregation, I had a queer feeling that some mysterious power
was dragging me into a whirlpool, and the ordinary life around me and
the things that were so dear to me had already begun to fade away.
On Tuesday, August the Fourth, war was declared, and the (p. 016)
Expeditionary Force began to be mobilized in earnest. It is like
recalling a horrible dream when I look back to those days of
apprehension and dread. The world seemed suddenly to have gone mad.
All civilization appeared to be tottering. The Japanese Prime
Minister, on the night war was declared, said, "This is the end of
Europe." In a sense his words were true. Already we see power shifted
from nations in Europe to that great Empire which is in its youth,
whose home is in Europe, but whose dominions are scattered over the
wide world, and also to that new Empire of America, which came in to
the war at the end with such determination and high resolve. The
destinies of mankind are now in the hands of the English-speaking
nations and France.
In those hot August days, a camp at Valcartier was prepared in a
lovely valley surrounded by the old granite hills of the Laurentians,
the oldest range of mountains in the world. The Canadian units began
to collect, and the lines of white tents were laid out. On Saturday,
August 22nd, at seven in the morning, the detachment of volunteers
from Quebec marched off from the drill-shed to entrain for Valcartier.
Our friends came to see us off and the band played "The Girl I Left
Behind Me," in the traditional manner. On our arrival at Valcartier we
marched over to the ground assigned to us, and the men set to work to
put up the tents. I hope I am casting no slur upon the 8th Royal
Rifles of Quebec, when I say that I think we were all pretty green in
the matter of field experience. The South African veterans amongst us,
both officers and men, saved the situation. But I know that the
cooking arrangements rather "fell down", and I think a little bread
and cheese, very late at night, was all we had to eat. We were lucky
to get that. Little did we know then of the field kitchens, with their
pipes smoking and dinners cooking, which later on used to follow up
the battalions as they moved.
The camp at Valcartier was really a wonderful place. Rapidly the roads
were laid out, the tents were run up, and from west and east and north
and south men poured in. There was activity everywhere. Water was laid
on, and the men got the privilege of taking shower-baths, beside the
dusty roads. Bands played; pipers retired to the woods and practised
unearthly music calculated to fire the breast of the Scotsman with a
lust for blood. We had rifle practice on the marvellous ranges. We had
sham battles in which the men engaged so intensely that on one (p. 017)
occasion, when the enemy met, one over-eager soldier belaboured his
opponent with the butt end of his rifle as though he were a real
German, and the poor victim, who had not been taught to say "Kamarad",
suffered grievous wounds and had to be taken away in an ambulance.
Though many gales and tempests had blown round those ancient
mountains, nothing had ever equalled the latent power in the hearts of
the stalwart young Canadians who had come so swiftly and eagerly at
the call of the Empire. It is astonishing how the war spirit grips
one. In Valcartier began that splendid comradeship which spread out to
all the divisions of the Canadian Corps, and which binds those who
went to the great adventure in a brotherhood stronger than has ever
been known before.
Valcartier was to me a weird experience. The tents were cold. The
ground was very hard. I got it into my mind that a chaplain should
live the same life as the private soldier, and should avoid all
luxuries. So I tried to sleep at night under my blanket, making a
little hole in the ground for my thigh bone to rest in. After lying
awake for some nights under these conditions, I found that the
privates, especially the old soldiers, had learnt the art of making
themselves comfortable and were hunting for straw for beds. I saw the
wisdom of this and got a Wolesley sleeping bag, which I afterwards
lost when my billet was shelled at Ypres. Under this new arrangement I
was able to get a little rest. A kind friend in Quebec provided fifty
oil stoves for the use of the Quebec contingent and so we became quite
comfortable.
The dominating spirit of the camp was General Hughes, who rode about
with his aides-de-camp in great splendour like Napoleon. To me it
seemed that his personality and his despotic rule hung like a dark
shadow over the camp. He was especially interesting and terrible to us
chaplains, because rumour had it that he did not believe in chaplains,
and no one could find out whether he was going to take us or not. The
chaplains in consequence were very polite when inadvertently they
found themselves in his august presence. I was clad in a private's
uniform, which was handed to me out of a box in the drill-shed the
night before the 8th Royal Rifles left Quebec, and I was most
punctilious in the matter of saluting General Hughes whenever we
chanced to meet.
The day after we arrived at the camp was a Sunday. The weather looked
dark and showery, but we were to hold our first church parade, (p. 018)
and, as I was the senior chaplain in rank, I was ordered to take it
over. We assembled about three thousand strong, on a little rise in
the ground, and here the men were formed in a hollow square. Rain was
threatening, but perhaps might have held off had it not been for the
action of one of the members of my congregation, who in the rear ranks
was overheard by my son to utter the prayer--"O Lord, have mercy in
this hour, and send us now a gentle shower." The prayer of the young
saint was answered immediately, the rain came down in torrents, the
church parade was called off, and I went back to my tent to get dry.
Day after day passed and more men poured in. They were a splendid lot,
full of life, energy and keen delight in the great enterprise.
Visitors from the city thronged the camp in the afternoons and
evenings. A cinema was opened, but was brought to a fiery end by the
men, who said that the old man in charge of it never changed his
films.
One of the most gruesome experiences I had was taking the funeral of a
young fellow who had committed suicide. I shall never forget the
dismal service which was held, for some reason or other, at ten
o'clock at night. Rain was falling, and we marched off into the woods
by the light of two smoky lanterns to the place selected as a military
cemetery. To add to the weirdness of the scene two pipers played a
dirge. In the dim light of the lanterns, with the dropping rain over
head and the dripping trees around us, we laid the poor boy to rest.
The whole scene made a lasting impression on those who were present.
Meanwhile the camp extended and improvements were made, and many
changes occurred in the disposition of the units. At one time the
Quebec men were joined with a Montreal unit, then they were taken and
joined with a New Brunswick detachment and formed into a battalion. Of
course we grew more military, and I had assigned to me a batman whom I
shall call Stephenson. I selected him because of his piety--he was a
theological student from Ontario. I found afterwards that it is unwise
to select batmen for their piety. Stephenson was a failure as a
batman. When some duty had been neglected by him and I was on the
point of giving vent to that spirit of turbulent anger, which I soon
found was one of the natural and necessary equipments of an officer,
he would say, "Would you like me to recite Browning's 'Prospice'?"
What could the enraged Saul do on such occasions but forgive, throw
down the javelin and listen to the music of the harping David? (p. 019)
Stephenson was with me till I left Salisbury Plain for France. He
nearly exterminated me once by setting a stone water-bottle to heat on
my stove without unscrewing the stopper. I arrived in my tent quite
late and seeing the thing on the stove quickly unscrewed it. The steam
blew out with terrific force and filled the tent. A moment or two more
and the bottle would have burst with disastrous consequences. When I
told Stephenson of the enormity of his offence and that he might have
been the cause of my death, and would have sent me to the grave
covered with dishonour for having been killed by the bursting of a hot
water-bottle--an unworthy end for one about to enter the greatest war
the world has ever known--he only smiled faintly and asked me if I
should like to hear him recite a poem.
News from overseas continued to be bad. Day after day brought us
tidings of the German advance. The martial spirits amongst us were
always afraid to hear that the war would be over before we got to
England. I, but did not tell the people so, was afraid it wouldn't. I
must confess I did not see in those days how a British force composed
of men from farms, factories, offices and universities could get
together in time to meet and overthrow the trained legions of Germany.
It was certainly a period of anxious thought and deep foreboding, but
I felt that I belonged to a race that has never been conquered. Above
all, right and, therefore, God was on our side.
The scenery around Valcartier is very beautiful. It was a joy now and
then to get a horse and ride away from the camp to where the Jacques
Cartier river comes down from the mountains, and to dream of the old
days when the world was at peace and we could enjoy the lovely
prospects of nature, without the anxious care that now gnawed at our
hearts. The place had been a favorite haunt of mine in the days gone
by, when I used to take a book of poems and spend the whole day beside
the river, reading and dozing and listening to the myriad small voices
of the woods.
Still, the centre of interest now was the camp, with its turmoil and
bustle and indefinite longing to be up and doing. The officer
commanding my battalion had brought his own chaplain with him, and it
was plainly evident that I was not wanted. This made it, I must
confess, somewhat embarrassing. My tent, which was at the corner of
the front line, was furnished only with my bed-roll and a box or two,
and was not a particularly cheerful home. I used to feel rather (p. 020)
lonely at times. Now and then I would go to Quebec for the day. On one
occasion, when I had been feeling particularly seedy, I returned to
camp at eleven o'clock at night. It was cold and rainy. I made my way
from the station to my tent. In doing so I had to pass a Highland
Battalion from Vancouver. When I came to their lines, to my dismay I
was halted by a sentry with a fixed bayonet, who shouted in the
darkness, "Who goes there?" I gave the answer, but instead of being
satisfied with my reply, the wretched youth stood unmoved, with his
bayonet about six inches from my body, causing me a most unpleasant
sensation. He said I should have to come to the guardroom and be
identified. In the meantime, another sentry appeared, also with a
fixed bayonet, and said that I had to be identified. Little did I
think that the whole thing was a game of the young rascals, and that
they were beguiling the tedious moments of the sentry-go by pulling a
chaplain's leg. They confessed it to me months afterwards in France.
However, I was unsuspecting and had come submissive into the great
war. I said that if they would remove their bayonets from propinquity
to my person--because the sight of them was causing me a fresh attack
of the pains that had racked me all day--I would go with them to the
guardroom. At this they said, "Well, Sir, we'll let you pass. We'll
take your word and say no more about it." So off I went to my dripping
canvas home, hoping that the war would be brought to a speedy
termination.
Every night I used to do what I called "parish visiting." I would go
round among the tents, and sitting on the ground have a talk with the
men. Very interesting and charming these talks were. I was much
impressed with the miscellaneous interests and life histories of the
men who had been so quickly drawn together. All were fast being shaken
down into their places, and I think the great lessons of unselfishness
and the duty of pulling together were being stamped upon the lives
that had hitherto been more or less at loose ends. I used to sit in
the tents talking long after lights were out, not wishing to break the
discussion of some interesting life problem. This frequently entailed
upon me great difficulty in finding my way back to my tent, for the
evenings were closing in rapidly and it was hard to thread one's way
among the various ropes and pegs which kept the tents in position. On
one occasion when going down the lines, I tripped over a rope. Up to
that moment the tent had been in perfect silence, but, as though I had
fired a magazine of high explosives, a torrent of profanity burst (p. 021)
forth from the inhabitants at my misadventure. Of course the men
inside did not know to whom they were talking, but I stood there with
my blood curdling, wondering how far I was personally responsible for
the language poured forth, and terrified lest anyone should look and
find out who had disturbed their slumbers. I stole off into the
darkness as quickly as I could, more than ever longing for a speedy
termination of the great war, and resolving to be more careful in
future about tripping over tent ropes.
We had church parades regularly now on Sundays and early celebrations
of the Holy Communion for the various units. Several weeks had gone by
and as yet we had no definite information from General Hughes as to
which or how many chaplains would be accepted. It was very annoying.
Some of us could not make satisfactory arrangements for our parishes,
until there was a certainty in the matter. The question came to me as
to whether I ought to go, now that the Quebec men had been merged into
a battalion of which I was not to be the chaplain. One evening as I
was going to town, I put the matter before my friend Colonel, now
General, Turner. It was a lovely night. The moon was shining, and
stretching far off into the valley were the rows of white tents with
the dark mountains enclosing them around. We stood outside the
farmhouse used as headquarters, which overlooked the camp. When I
asked the Colonel whether, now that I was separated from my men, I
ought to leave my parish and go, he said to me, "Look at those lines
of tents and think of the men in them. How many of those men will ever
come back? The best expert opinion reckons that this war will last at
least two years. The wastage of human life in war is tremendous. The
battalions have to be filled and refilled again and again. Don't
decide in a hurry, but think over what I have told you." On the next
evening when I returned from Quebec, I went to the Colonel and said,
"I have thought the matter over and I am going."
The time was now drawing near for our departure and at last word was
sent round that General Hughes wished to meet all the chaplains on the
verandah of his bungalow. The time set was the cheerful hour of five
a.m. I lay awake all night with a loud ticking alarm clock beside me,
till about half an hour before the wretched thing was to go off. With
great expedition I rose and shaved and making myself as smart as
possible in the private's uniform, hurried off to the General's camp
home. There the other chaplains were assembled, about twenty-five (p. 022)
or thirty in all. We all felt very sleepy and very chilly as we waited
with expectancy the utterance which was going to seal our fate. The
General soon appeared in all the magnificence and power of his
position. We rose and saluted. When he metaphorically told us to
"stand easy", we all sat down. I do not know what the feelings of the
others were, but I had an impression that we were rather an awkward
squad, neither fish, flesh, nor fowl. The General gave us a heart to
heart talk. He told us he was going to send us with "the boys." From
his manner I inferred that he looked upon us a kind of auxiliary and
quite dispensable sanitary section. I gathered that he did not want us
to be very exacting as to the performance of religious duties by the
men. Rather we were to go in and out amongst them, make friends of
them and cheer them on their way. Above all we were to remember that
because a man said "Damn", it did not mean necessarily that he was
going to hell. At the conclusion of the address, we were allowed to
ask questions, and one of our number unadvisedly asked if he would be
allowed to carry a revolver. "No," said Sam with great firmness, "take
a bottle of castor oil." We didn't dare to be amused at the incident
in the presence of the Chief, but we had a good laugh over it when we
got back to our tents.
Two Sundays before we left, the most remarkable church parade in the
history of the division was held, at which fully fifteen thousand men
were present. The Senior Chaplain asked me to preach. A large platform
had been erected, on which the chaplains stood, and on the platform
also were two signallers, whose duty it was to signal to the
battalions and bands the numbers of the hymns. On the chairs in front
of the platform were seated the Duke and Duchess of Connaught, the
Princess Patricia, Sir Robert Borden, and other notables. Beyond them
were gathered the men in battalions. At one side were the massed
bands. It was a wonderful sight. The sun was shining. Autumn tints
coloured the maple trees on the sides of the ancient mountains. Here
was Canada quickening into national life and girding on the sword to
take her place among the independent nations of the world. It had been
my privilege, fifteen years before, to preach at the farewell service
in Quebec Cathedral for the Canadian Contingent going to the South
African war. It seemed to me then that never again should I have such
an experience. Yet on that occasion there were only a thousand men
present, and here were fifteen times that number. At that time (p. 023)
the war was with a small and half-civilized nation in Africa, now the
war was with the foremost nations of Europe. On that occasion I used
the second personal pronoun "you", now I was privileged to use the
first personal pronoun "we". Almost to the last I did not know what
text to choose and trusted to the inspiration of the moment what to
say. My mind was confused with the vastness of the outlook. At last
the words came to me which are the very foundation stone of human
endeavour and human progress, "He that loseth his life for My sake
shall find it." I do not know exactly what I said, and I do not
suppose it mattered much, for it was hard to make oneself heard. I was
content if the words of the text alone were audible. We sang that
great hymn, "O God our help in ages past," which came into such
prominence as an imperial anthem during the war. As we sang the
words--
"Before the hills in order stood,
Or earth received her frame"--
I looked at the everlasting mountains around us, where the sound of
our worship died away, and thought how they had watched and waited for
this day to come, and how, in the ages that were to dawn upon Canadian
life and expansion, they would stand as monuments of the consecration
of Canada to the service of mankind.
Things began to move rapidly now. People from town told us that
already a fleet of liners was waiting in the harbour, ready to carry
overseas the thirty-three thousand men of the Canadian contingent.
At last the eventful day of our departure arrived. On September 28th,
with several other units, the 14th Battalion, to which I had been
attached, marched off to the entraining point. I took one last look at
the great camp which had now become a place of such absorbing interest
and I wondered if I should ever see again that huge amphitheatre with
its encompassing mountain witnesses. The men were in high spirits and
good humour prevailed.
We saw the three companies of Engineers moving off, each followed by
those mysterious pontoons which followed them wherever they went and
suggested the bridging of the Rhine and our advance to Berlin. Someone
called out, "What are those boats?" and a voice replied, "That's the
Canadian Navy." We had a pleasant trip in the train to Quebec,
enlivened by jokes and songs. On our arrival at the docks, we were
taken to the custom-house wharf and marched on board the fine (p. 024)
Cunard liner "Andania", which now rests, her troubles over, at the
bottom of the Irish Sea. On the vessel, besides half of the 14th
Battalion, there was the 16th (Canadian Scottish) Battalion, chiefly
from Vancouver, and the Signal Company. Thus we had a ship full to
overflowing of some of the noblest young fellows to whom the world has
given birth. So ended our war experience in Valcartier Camp.
Nearly five years passed before I saw that sacred spot again. It was
in August 1919. The war was ended, peace had been signed, and the
great force of brother knights had been dispersed. Little crosses by
the highways and byways of France and Belgium now marked the
resting-place of thousands of those whose eager hearts took flame
among these autumn hills. As I motored past the deserted camp after
sunset, my heart thrilled with strange memories and the sense of an
abiding presence of something weird and ghostly. Here were the old
roads, there were the vacant hutments. Here were the worn paths across
the fields where the men had gone. The evening breeze whispered
fitfully across the untrodden grass and one by one the strong
mountains, as though fixing themselves more firmly in iron resolve,
cast off the radiant hues of evening and stood out black and grim
against the starlit sky.