EVERY DAY LIFE.
_August to October 1917._
Hill 70 being now in our grip the Division came out of the line on
August 21st, and moved back to our old billets in Bruay.
Every night, as usual, our concert party gave a performance in the
theatre. We were very proud of them. The men's costumes were well made
and very tasteful. "Babs," our leading lady, was most charming and
engaging, in spite of the fact that her hands looked decidedly masculine.
The townspeople enjoyed the entertainments as much as we did, and the
battalions were given their own special nights. Occasionally, some of
the jokes appeared to me a trifle too broad. At such times I would pay
a visit to the Green-room, as Senior Chaplain, and mildly suggest
their withdrawal. I must say that the men took my interference in good
part and kept their exuberance of spirits well in check. Our Divisional
band was up to high-water mark, and their rendering of the hymns and
chants on Sundays made our services in the theatre extraordinarily
hearty.
One afternoon I motored over to Quatre Vents to take a funeral service
in the cemetery there. Instead of returning, I went down to Cambligneul
to see the men of the 7th Battalion. They were enjoying a rest in the
quaint old town. In the evening, I went down to the Y.M.C.A. hut which
was in charge of the British. Here I found our men crowded into the
building, not knowing what to do with themselves. The officer in charge
of the hut was a quiet man, who was doing his best in superintending
the work at the counter. It struck me, however, that he felt a little
embarrassed by the situation, and did not know how to provide amusement
for the wild Canadians. I asked him if he would object to our having a
stag-dance. He said, "Certainly not, you may do anything you like." At
once we got several dozen candles and illuminated the place. Then we
sent out for a pianist and some violinists, and got up a scratch
orchestra. We then cleared away the tables and benches and turned the
place into a dance-hall. The orchestra struck up a lively two-step,
and great burly chaps chose their equally burly partners, and (p. 204)
started off in the dance with such gusto that the place was filled
with the sounds of dissipation. This attracted more men from outside,
and finally we had the liveliest scene imaginable. I actually found
myself joining in the mazes of the waltz, and amid roars of laughter
the dancing went on fast and furious. So delighted was the Y.M.C.A.
officer, that he mounted the platform at the end of a dance, and in
spite of my protest, called for three cheers for the man who had
suggested the entertainment. At the close of the evening, we had cups
of hot coffee and biscuits, and parted in the best of humours. I was
then confronted by a problem that had not presented itself to me
before, and that was, how I was to get back to my home in Bruay, which
was about ten miles off. Once more my favourite text came to my mind,
"The Lord will provide." So I bid good-bye to my friends in the hut
and went off, trusting that a car or lorry would pick me up on the
road. This time I found that the Lord did not provide, so I started at
about half-past ten on my homeward journey on foot. As I passed
through the sleeping village of Estree-Cauchie, I came upon some men
of another Division who had been imbibing very freely in an estaminet,
and who were about to wind up a heated argument with a free fight. It
was very dark, and it was hard for me to convince them that I was a
chaplain with the rank of Lieut.-Colonel, until I turned my flashlight
upon my white collar. Happily, my efforts as peacemaker were not in
vain. I poured oil on the troubled waters till I saw them subside, and
the men went off to their billets. One young fellow, however, was
experiencing that interest in spiritual problems, which was sometimes
aroused in the most unexpected quarters by free libations of spirituous
liquors. He caught hold of my arm and implored me to enlighten him on
the theological differences which separated Anglicans and Presbyterians.
I forget which he was himself, but at the time the problem was a
matter of extraordinary interest to him. While I always considered it
my duty to impart enlightenment to darkened souls whenever I could,
the recollection that I had about seven miles to walk to my home that
night rather tempered my missionary zeal, and by a promise to discuss
the whole matter on our next meeting I managed to tear myself away and
proceed on my journey.
It was a long tramp down the silent road in the darkness. The houses
in the little villages through which I passed were tightly shut. Not a
light could be seen, and Providence supplied no car or lorry (p. 205)
for my conveyance. On a hill in the distance, I saw the revolving
light which acted as a signal to the aeroplanes. It would shine out
for a few seconds and then die away. The air was fresh and cool, and I
had time to meditate on the curious events of the intense life which I
lived. It was still day in Canada, and the sun was shining over our
cities, the great lakes, the prairies, and the jagged peaks in the
mountain province on the Pacific coast. When was this life going to
end? Were we really making any progress? Overhead, my beloved friends
the stars, kept up their silent twinkling, which gave them an appearance
of life. In the valley lay the old medieval Chateau of Ohlain. I
thought of the historical figures from the pages of French history who
had walked along that road centuries before, filled with the anxieties
and problems of their own age. Now and then, some bird of the night
would break the silence with its cry or twitter, and still I plodded
on. At last, long after midnight, I reached the outskirts of Bruay,
and entering the High Street, made my way to my billet, where Alberta
was waiting to give me a warm welcome.
It was the privilege of the British Army to have as its commanders,
good and devout men. One always felt that, in any appeal, the cause of
religion would be upheld. General Horne, who commanded the First Army,
of which we formed a part, was a man of sincere religious life, and
never failed to show his appreciation of the chaplains and their work.
One day he invited all the Chaplains of the First Army to have tea
with him at his headquarters in the beautiful Chateau of Ranchicourt.
It was a lovely afternoon, and we motored over to the meeting in
busses. Tables were set for tea and refreshments on the lawn, and the
Count and his charming daughter were there, giving a touch of home
life to the gathering. All the chaplains who could be off duty were
present. After tea, while we sat on the grass, the General gave us a
very helpful talk on religious work among the men from a soldier's
point of view. The old Chateau, with its beautiful gardens in front of
the huge elms gave a fine setting to the scene.
On August 31st I was driven over to a field at the back of Villers-Chatel,
where the 2nd Brigade was to hold a memorial service for those who had
been killed at the taking of Hill 70. I had been asked to give the
address. The place chosen was a wide and green field which sloped
gradually towards the line of rich forest trees. On the highest part
of the ground facing the woods, a small platform had been erected (p. 206)
and was decorated with flags. On this the chaplains stood, the Corps
Commander and the Brigadier and staff being at one side. Before us,
forming three sides of a square, were the four battalions of the
Brigade. The scene when viewed from the platform was magnificent. The
sky was blue, the sun was shining, and the glorious trees guarded the
green mysteries of the forest behind. The troops were in splendid
form, and the bright red patches on their arms gave a touch of colour
which set off the khaki uniforms. Every one of the men had been
through the battle and was a hero. The service went well, and the
hymns, to the accompaniment of the band, were sung heartily. At the
close, the Corps Commander and staff went round to each battalion, and
those who had won honours came forward to receive them. As the
officers and men stood in turn before the General, the A.D.C. read out
a short account of what each had done to win the decoration. It was
deeply moving to hear the acts of gallantry that had been performed.
Fixed and motionless each man would stand, while we were told how his
courage had saved his company or platoon at some critical moment. I
remember particularly hearing how one sergeant who got the D.C.M., had
carried his Lewis gun, after all the other members of the crew had
been wounded or killed, and, placing it at a point of vantage, had, by
his steady fire, covered the advance of a company going forward to
attack. Little do people at home know by what supreme self-sacrifice
and dauntless courage those strips of bright-coloured ribbon on the
breasts of soldiers have been won. After the decorations had been
presented, the men fell back to their battalions. The band struck up
the strains of "D'ye ken John Peel?", and the whole Brigade marched
past the General, the masses of men moving with machine-like
precision. Even the rain which had begun to fall did not mar the fine
effect.
Our stay at Bruay was not to be of long duration. In the early hours
of September 5th a bomb dropped in the garden behind the administration
building where our Headquarters were, waking us from sleep with a
sudden start. It did no harm, but on the next day we were informed
that we were all to move back to our old quarters in Barlin. I always
said that I regarded a bomb dropped on Headquarters as a portent sent
from heaven, telling us we were going to move. Accordingly on
September 6th we all made our way to Barlin, where I was given a
billet in an upper room in an estaminet. The propriety of housing (p. 207)
a Senior Chaplain in an estaminet might be questioned, but this
particular one was called the estaminet of St. Joseph. An estaminet
with such a title, and carried on under such high patronage, was one
in which I could make myself at home. So on the door was hung my sign,
"Canon Scott, Senior Chaplain," which provoked many smiles and much
comment from the men of the battalions as they passed by. I was
looking out of my window in the upper storey one day when the 2nd
Battalion was marching past, and, to the breach of all good discipline,
I called out to the men and asked them if they did not envy me my
billet. A roar of laughter went up, and they asked me how I got there
and if I could take them in as well. I told them that it was the
reward of virtue, and only those who could be trusted were allowed to
be housed in estaminets.
Near me, at Barlin, the motor machine-gun brigade was encamped. It had
been there for some time, and I was glad to meet old friends and renew
acquaintance with the unit that had such a distinguished career at the
front. I had not seen them much since the old days at Poperinghe, but
wherever they went they covered themselves with glory. To spend an
evening in the hut used as the sergeants' mess was a delight. The
rollicking good humour that prevailed was most contagious, and I shall
always treasure the memory of it which has now been made sacred
through the death of so many whom I met there. I used to visit the
tents, too, and sitting on a box in their midst have a smoke and talk
with the men. Heavy indeed has been the toll of casualties which that
noble brigade has suffered since those happy days.
Word was sent to the Division one day by the British troops holding
our trenches on Hill 70, that some bodies of our men were lying
unburied in No Man's Land. One of our battalions was ordered to
provide a burial party and I decided to accompany them. I was to meet
the men at a certain place near Loos on the Lens-Arras road in the
evening, and go with them. The burial officer turned up on time, but
the party did not. At last the men arrived and we went through the
well-known trenches till we came to the front line. Here I had to go
down and see some officers of the British battalions, and try to find
out where the bodies were. Apparently the officers could give us
little information, so we decided to divide up into small parties and
go into No Man's Land and search for the dead ourselves. As we were in
sight of the enemy, we could not use our electric torches, and (p. 208)
only by the assistance of German flare-lights were we able to pick
our steps over the broken ground. We found a few bodies which had not
been buried, but it was impossible to do more than cover them with
earth, for the position was an exposed one. We did the best we could
under the circumstances, and were glad to find that the number of
unburied had been greatly exaggerated. On another occasion I took a
burial party out one night, and found that the officers and men sent
were a new draft that had never been in the line before. They were
much interested in the novel and somewhat hazardous nature of the
expedition. On this occasion when we returned to Bully-Grenay, the
morning sun was shining brightly overhead, and it began to get quite
warm. The men were very tired with their night's work, and when we
halted they lay down on the pavement by the road and went to sleep.
One poor fellow actually collapsed, and we had to send off to a
dressing station for a stretcher on which he was taken away for
medical treatment. A burial party, from the nature of the case, was
not a pleasant expedition, and Canada ought to be grateful for the way
in which our Corps burial officers and the men under them carried out
their gruesome and often dangerous duty. One of our burial officers, a
fine young fellow, told me how much he disliked the work. He said,
"There is no glory in it, and people think that we have an easy time,
but two of my predecessors have been killed and I expect to get
knocked out myself some day." A year later he was killed near Cambrai,
after he had faithfully done his duty in caring for the bodies of the
slain.
Our front trenches were now to the right of Hill 70, in advance of
Lieven, and it seemed as if we were going to be stationed in the
neighbourhood for some time, for the rumour was that the Canadians had
to complete their work at Vimy by the capture of Lens. Barlin,
therefore, and the area around it was a great centre of Canadian life
and activity. We had our large Canadian tent-hospitals, our brigade
schools, and various Y.M.C.A. places of entertainment, besides our
officers' clubs.
In an open field near my billet were stationed the horse lines of our
Divisional Train, and it used to give me great pleasure to pass the
long rows of wagons which by the constant labour of the men were kept
in prime condition. The paint was always fresh, and all the chains
were polished as if they were merely for show. It would be hard (p. 209)
for people at home to realize that the wagons which had been used
for years under such rough conditions always looked as if they had
just come out of the shop, but that was the case. The constant
attention to detail in the army, the smartness of the men, and the
good turn-out of the horses and limbers, have a great moral effect
upon every department of the service. The men were always grumbling
about polishing buttons and chains, but I told them that the
impression of efficiency it gave one made it quite worth while. A
Division that could turn out such a fine looking Train as we had could
always be depended upon to do its duty.