SALISBURY AND THE STONES OF STONEHENGE
On Thursday, the 14th of October, orders came to disembark. All the
ships of the Canadian fleet were there. We learned that we had been
sent to Plymouth at the last minute and that train transport had to be
provided for us. All kinds of rumours were afloat; one that we were to
go at once to France, disembarking at Rouen, and then by train to the
south of France; others said that we were to go to Egypt; and many
said that was all right, if the Turks got into the war.
I went ashore with Company Sergeant-Major Radcliffe of my regiment,
who is a Plymouth man. It was only when I got ashore that I learned
that his bride-to-be lived in Plymouth. We drove all over the town and
part of the country. This is Devonshire, the country of cider and
cream. I tried them both; they are excellent. It felt good to get
ashore, but the voyage was so pleasant that we were sorry to part with
our good ship and our captain. We found that in England the people had
been very much depressed by the war, but were recovering their
spirits. The shipyards were busy, but there was hardly a home in
Plymouth, Stonehouse or Devonport (three towns in one), but had some
one afloat in the navy, keeping convoy, or keeping guard in the North
Sea. I met the Editor of one of the Plymouth papers, a very fine man.
From him I learned that the Mayor and Corporation of the town had
arranged a public reception for the Canadians, but that Lord Kitchener
had vetoed the proposal. He also told me of the loss of some ships on
the East coast, and some German losses at sea, but said the censor
would not permit publication even of our arrival. We were beginning to
learn that there was a big man somewhere about who was doing things,
and that his address was not far from the War Office. On the streets
we met hundreds of young men route marching, some of them with arms,
some in uniform, the majority without either. They were all singing
"Tipperary" with its Celtic croon and minor tones. So far apparently,
the war had not produced a great war poet or musician, nothing had
been written anything like "Tommy Atkins" or "Soldiers of the Queen."
Surely war songs were not all "Made in Germany."
Every square, and park and private lawn had its quota of soldiers
drilling, all young men and all in deadly earnest. We learned also
that the day we arrived some young men from Quebec, speaking French,
and a Servian from Winnipeg had strayed ashore, and the announcement
was made in the press that the contingent consisted principally of
French Canadians and Servians who were coming to fight for the Allies.
After the war is over I suppose someone will be giving the Chinese all
the credit for what the Canadians did.
So far so good. We remained on board all day. The rivetters on board a
huge Dreadnought, that was being built close by, chalked in huge
letters on the plating a message for us, "Bravo Canadians." Our men,
who were very good with semaphore signals, soon established a wireless
connection with the shore and a very animated conversation was carried
on between them all day. In the afternoon we presented Captain James
with a memento of our voyage, expressing our pleasure in having such a
good commander. We bought him the silver when we got ashore.
The next morning an officer came aboard from the staff, and we learned
for the first time that General Alderson had been appointed to command
the Canadian Expeditionary Force. We could see an officer on shore
with a staff cap, who looked very much like General Hughes, but it
turned out to be Colonel Davidson of Toronto. About noon our ship
pulled into the dock, and the gangways were put out, and
disembarkation began. We were ordered to move in two detachments, so
I gave the right half battalion to Major Marshall with my blessing,
and remained with the left half myself to see that all our stores were
landed safely. We learned a good deal about transporting troops. One
thing that should be looked after in future contingents is to see that
each unit has its own waggons, horses and carts on its own ship. When
we were embarked at Quebec our horses and waggons were taken away from
us. The horses were put on board one ship, the harness on another, the
waggons on another, the wheels on another, etc. It took weeks to sort
everything out, and all the work done at Valcartier had been wasted.
Another thing, the men should not be sent abroad without a good
equipment like the Webb. The Oliver equipment was a joke. With our
facilities for producing good leather, canvas and woollen stuff in
Canada there is no reason why we cannot produce an equipment just as
good, if not better, than the Webb. All ammunition is now packed in
clips in canvas bandoliers holding fifty rounds, and there is very
little necessity for the big ammunition pouches with which equipments
were burdened. An equipment made out of green chrome leather with as
few straps as possible, or out of good stout drab canvas made in
Canada and treated with a solution of soap and alum, so as to make it
waterproof, would do just as well as the Webb. Fortunately our
regiment had been given an excellent Webb equipment and it was
expected the equipment for the rest of the force would be issued in
England. The Division outside of our Brigade had been busy for several
days staining their Oliver haversacks and kit bags with tea and making
a very poor job of it.
The right half battalion shouldered their blankets, kit bags and
knapsacks and started off for the station a mile away. Our rifles were
boxed and would follow us. We left later on at six in the evening. It
was dusk as we marched through Plymouth to the station where we had to
wait an hour for our train to be made up. Soon quite a crowd gathered
at the station, and everybody wanted to give my men bottles of
whiskey and gin. I stopped it as well as I could, but a few who had
not had a drink for two months fell by the wayside, not just then but
later on. We should have tried out our men in Canada, and given them a
free hand, so that the drinkers would be weeded out before coming
over.
Our train came in about eight o'clock and we were told our destination
was Patney Station, and that our camp was near the station. Off we
started and arrived at Patney about one o'clock at night. The men
enjoyed the run very much. At every station as we passed the people
gathered and cheered themselves hoarse till we all thought we were
real heroes. We made only about two stops till we came to Patney, one
at Exeter which is one of the oldest towns in England dating from the
Roman occupation. This city was the Iscea of Vaspasian's time. It was
always a fortified city, previous even to the Romans, and boasts of a
beautiful cathedral.
The other stop we made was at Newton Abbot. Here William of Orange was
first proclaimed King of England, if I remember right, on a stone in
the market square.
At Patney station we found on the station platform Major Marshall and
several officers, among them Captain McGregor. They informed us that
on the way up a number of the men of "A" Company (Captain McGregor's)
had been taken ill, with ptomaine or some other form of poisoning, and
were in a bad way. We suspected at once that some one had handed them
something. We found thirty-five of them down with colic and very
severe pains. Blankets had been laid in the station for them, and Dr.
MacKenzie, our surgeon, did not take long getting busy attending to
them. He informed me that he did not consider any cases serious,
although the poor fellows were suffering much pain. We marched the
left half of the battalion over the track on an overhead bridge, and
found our right half waiting for us, and for transport waggons which
were supposed to be on hand, to take our kit bags and blankets. The
night was as dark as a wolf's mouth and the dim lights of a few
lanterns showed the men standing in solid lines between the green
walls of the hedges of an English lane.
A traction transport arrived and the men began hoisting their kit bags
into the two large vans that constituted this traction outfit. Several
county policemen were on hand to guide us to our camp which we were
told was eleven miles away. That was cheerful. There was no transport
for the kit bags and blankets of my half battalion, so that after a
while Marshall got all his kits aboard and said good-bye and started
off into blank space with his half battalion less the thirty-five sick
left at the station. The pipes struck up bravely, "We'll take the High
Road," the marching-out tune of all Highland Regiments, and soon the
black darkness swallowed up the end of his detachment.
The prospect of a night march of eleven miles was not very cheerful
for the rest of us. We stood about on the road waiting for another
traction engine and waggons to get our kits carried for us. One hour
passed, no transport, two hours, no transport. We heard that our
transport had gone to Lavington station by mistake, and was on the way
back for us. At a quarter to three the officers and non-commissioned
officers decided that we had better start and get to camp carrying our
own kit bags and blankets. The men said they would rather go than sit
around waiting for morning, so a constable with a lantern and a
bicycle volunteered to guide us. I gave the command to shoulder
kit-bags and blankets and we were off. Each man carried his knapsack
and complete equipment, three blankets, a rubber sheet and a kit bag,
full of boots, clothing and all like effects. Some of the men were
carrying fully one hundred to one hundred and twenty-five pounds.
Sergeant-Major W. Grant slipped up alongside of me at the head of the
column, and we marched out into total darkness. At first it was so
dark that a person could almost feel it. The road was firm and flinty
under foot, and pretty soon some one started up "The Army of to-day is
all Right," and everybody joined in the chorus. We set a slow pace,
stepping short and easy so that the end of the column in charge of
Captain Warren could keep up. A wonderful man was young Warren, never
tired, always cheerful, always knowing what to do. We were blessed
with two good field officers in Captains Darling and Warren. At the
end of fifteen minutes we halted between two hedges and rows of tall
trees. The policeman told me the men could sit against the banks of
the hedges, so that first rest was good. In ten minutes we were off
again. The road seemed to wind in and out in serpentine curves. The
land on either side was taken up with truck and vegetable farming.
In spite of the darkness it was an ideal night for marching, neither
too hot nor too cold. The men were standing up to the marching well.
After about another quarter of an hour Sergeant Hermitage, my Orderly
Room Sergeant, ran up from the rear to tell me to halt the column, as
a man had slipped into a culvert and was stuck in the mud. In fishing
him out the Sergeant had got stung with nettles. This made him hot. It
did not mend matters when I suggested that his country was getting
even with him for wearing kilts. However, we slowed up. This going was
splendid practice as we would no doubt have plenty of night marching
of this kind in Flanders. The men stood up to the march with their
heavy loads splendidly, thanks to the excellent physical training they
had undergone on board ship. At the first halt a number lit up
cigarettes, and as soon as they started a chorus of coughs showed
where the seductive weed was getting in its deadly work on the lungs
and bronchial tubes. The Commanding Officers passed the word along to
try and not smoke, and not to use the water bottles, and the men did
their best for the rest of the march. About an hour before we came to
our camp we ran full tilt into a traction train and I commandeered it
at once. I turned it around and got the men to load their kit bags
into the big vans, which they did most cheerfully, as this lightened
their loads. When we reached the great Salisbury Plains, after a steep
climb, it was cold and foggy, the kind of weather to take the courage
out of a man, about five o'clock in the morning. It was daylight when
we reached our tents. There was hot tea ready for the men, and it did
not take us very long to roll up in a blanket on the ground and go to
sleep.
I made the eleven miles carrying my great coat, sword and equipment,
and how I blessed my boots. Not a chafe nor an ache, they were just
splendid. From three o'clock till seven ten is not bad for eleven
miles on a pitch dark night. We all knew very little of what happened
for the rest of the day. Captain Donaldson saw that the officers'
luggage was sent in, and by the evening we were quite comfortable, and
had a good sleep on Saturday night.
The first work we did on our arrival at Salisbury Plains was to attend
an open air church service on Sunday. All the photographers of the
London papers were on hand to get snapshots of us. We were warned to
be careful of suspicious characters, and some of the gentlemen with
cameras were questioned closely. We at last had leisure to look about
us. Salisbury Plains, where we had been sent for our training, is in
Wiltshire and is a chalk plateau, high up in the middle of England. It
is noted for its historical associations and its bad climate. Two
great trunk line railways run, one on the north, the other to the
south of these Plains which are fully twenty-five miles from north to
south and twenty-five miles from east to west. Most of the land is
taken over by the Crown for military purposes, but at the cross-roads
there are still small English villages nestling in the hollows, whilst
on the Plains themselves the game and shooting privileges still remain
in the hands of the Lords of the Manor.
The country is very much like the foot-hills of the Rockies near
Calgary in appearance. The slopes are generally to the north. We were
not by any means the first armed men to tread the heath here. There is
no part of England so rich in legend and history. We could see ruins
and monuments on every side.
In the middle of the Downs, within plain view of our camp, there arose
the most ancient ruins in the British Isles, and the most interesting
prehistoric edifice in the whole of Europe--Stonehenge. To speak of
Stonehenge or to try to conjure up its past is to deal with people who
lived on these plains and enjoyed their cruder methods of civilization
and religion in a period more remote than that in which the great
Pyramids of Egypt were fashioned. Here in a circle, about one hundred
feet in diameter, are reared a series of great pillars of granite, a
stone which cannot be found within hundreds of miles from the spot, in
fact the north of France is the nearest. Each slab is about twenty
feet in height and they are fashioned rudely in the form of a temple.
It is said that in the design geometrical figures were used, and that
some sun cult was practised by those who reared them, for the sun's
shadow passes through various points only on Midsummer and on May Day.
The Druids are supposed to have used this as the great shrine of their
faith, and worshippers came from all over Europe every year to take
part in the religious ceremonies. Be that as it may this country must
have been the centre of a very powerful Celtic or British race, for
here and there over the Plains are piled up huge barrows, said to be
the burial places of ancient kings. A barrow or tumulus is about
fifteen to twenty feet high and seventy to a hundred feet in diameter.
A great many tumuluii are dotted here and there over the Plains. The
next people to these Druidical Celts to occupy these plains were
Britons and the ruins of some of their villages are still to be found.
Then came the Romans, and as usual they left their mark. North of the
stones of Stonehenge, about a quarter of a mile, is still to be found
the ruins of a chariot race course recalling scenes from "Ben Hur."
Over one end of the course, oaks, centuries old, have grown. Not far
away, about a mile and half east of Stonehenge, there is the huge
earthwork walls of Vespasians' Camp. From here it is said the Great
Roman General marched to the conquest of Palestine. About four miles
south, crowning a high hill, there are the ruins of Old Sarum, at one
time a Roman City. From the ramparts of Sarum, each of them a day's
march away, can be seen the ruins of seven great Roman Camps. The
Romans occupied Britain about four hundred years, a period more
remote than if we count from now back beyond the Discovery of America.
Everywhere are marks of their civilization, showing that the country
during their occupation must have been rich and populous. No less than
four of their generals left these Plains to assume the Imperial
purple. What stirring times those must have been. Past old Sarum wound
the road to Bath where the rich Romans and Britons were carried by
slaves on their litters to take the medicinal waters of that ancient
well, now found to contain that marvellous nerve-stimulating
mineral--radium. Every stone, every hill on these Plains could tell a
wonderful story.
After the Romans came the Saxons, and good King Alfred was not unknown
to these Plains while he was moulding his Kingdom and driving out the
Danes. The Norman Conqueror then came and took Sarum as one of his
strongholds. And it is admirably suited for defence even to-day. He
established a See or Bishopric at Sarum which later was removed to the
City of Salisbury. Sarum then declined and ran to seed, and was
gradually abandoned. It registered a last kick, however, when its half
a dozen voters, as it was the most noted of the "Rotten" Boroughs, won
immortality by sending to Parliament a young Coronet of Horse, Pitt
the Elder, afterwards Lord Chatham. It then ceased to be anything but
a geographical expression. If you seek the remainder of the history of
this remarkable spot, look for it in Salisbury Cathedral, one of the
most charming specimens of late Gothic architecture to be found in the
world. There you will find the tomb of William Longsword and other
brave crusaders. You will find that Oliver Goldsmith lived in
Salisbury, and there wrote the novel "The Vicar of Wakefield," and
that Gay wrote the "Beggar's Opera," at Amesbury, the village that
lies a few miles east of Stonehenge. But of all that we saw that which
impressed us most were the Roman ruins, recalling the iron discipline
of those unconquerable legionaries, and the great monuments of our
Celtic ancestors, the sublime stones of Stonehenge.