THE ATLANTIC
Our military exercises had built every man of us up to such a degree
of physical perfection that we felt fit for any test of endurance,
and the absence of worry, the companionship of so many fine chums,
the good wholesome food and invigorating air had worked wonders in
us. We were no longer the awkward squad that had slouched off the
train into Valcartier.
Our officers told us we were a disgrace to the service, but swiftly
the change was taking place. We could walk our ten or fifteen miles
in regulation time, and the standard of our shooting was
exceptionally high.
At first only twenty thousand men were to go, but as seventy-five
thousand had responded to the call and the eagerness of the boys to
go had caused them to redouble their efforts to become efficient, the
first expeditionary force was increased to thirty-three thousand men.
Toward the end of September we were inspected for the last time by
his Royal Highness, the Duke of Connaught, and in the afternoon we
were ordered to get our kits packed and stuff ready, as we were
leaving for England. Excitement ran high and every man was in his
place next morning at ten o'clock. It was a rainy Sunday morning,
but that did not dampen our spirits.
"Battalions will move off by the right of companies, No. 1 leading,"
came the order; the senior officer commanding shouted, "Company,
tshun; form fours; right; left wheel; quick march." We were off for
England.
After traveling the eighteen miles from camp to Quebec we boarded the
big steamer that was to bear us to England. My battalion was
assigned to the _Lapland_, the largest of the fleet transports. In
her hold thousands of sacks of flour were stacked, part of Canada's
gift to the motherland immediately on the outbreak of the war. Some
of us did not appreciate the gift as we might, because it was part of
our duty to load it from the dock to the hold.
I had a pardonable thrill of pride as I stood on the dock and watched
our fellows file aboard and I could not help asking myself--"Could
these bronzed, cleanly-built, athletic men be the same who tramped
wearily into camp one short month ago?" Such was the result of our
officers' untiring work and the patient efforts of the regular
sergeants who first took us in hand, and last, but not least, the
keenness of the men themselves to become efficient and disciplined
soldiers.
The whole fleet sailed from Quebec to Gaspé Bay, where we were picked
up by our convoy. The arrival of the battleships and cruisers was
greeted with rousing cheers, which were answered in kind by the men
of the fighting ships. It was the most impressive sight I have ever
witnessed; up to that time nothing had so majestically expressed the
sentiment of the Overseas Dominions hastening to the help of the
mother country.
By this time the seriousness of the conflict began to dawn upon the
country. The magnificent exploits of French's glorious little force
had fired every one of us, and every time the band played
"Tipperary," the wildest enthusiasm prevailed.
It was on one of the first nights aboard that the first shadow of the
war fell upon me. A sort of gloomy mist rose before my eyes and
clouded my brain, and I felt morally certain that something had
happened to Tom, my twin brother, and sorrowfully I have to tell that
he died in the battle of the Marne. I did not learn the particulars
until I reached England. He died as he would have wished to die,
fighting gloriously for the Empire.
Very few of the battalions had bands with them, but the Sixth of
Winnipeg, that embarked with us, had a splendid band, and they were
most generous in supplying us with musical treats all the way across.
I shall never forget the scene at these concerts, especially at
night--the moon shining on the sea, calm almost as a lake, the men
lounging in various attitudes of ease, some leaning over the
taffrail, others in chairs, and all smoking and enjoying the strains
to their hearts' content.
The only disagreeable feature of the voyage was the deadly regularity
with which we were fed upon stew; our feelings in this regard were
put into rhyme by one of the grim humorists of the battalion:
Our daily bread is stew,
That's all the cook can brew,
For kind heaven's sake, please give us some cake
Or anything else that's new.
One night at dinner, when the waiter handed him his stew, he stood
up, and, calling for silence, announced that he had a few remarks to
offer for the benefit of the misguided souls who entertained the
notion that we were not properly fed. There was an angry clatter of
knives on the plates of the stew, as the men were fighting mad with
the monotony of the grub, but finally the speaker got a semblance of
order and he commenced:
"Soldiers of the King, I believe it is duly right and fair to the
cook and the commissariat that the idea which has seemed to be
finding lodgment in the minds of some of us that we are not properly
looked after, as far as our stomachs are concerned, should be
banished at once, and I feel sure it will be when I point out to you
in a few words how erroneous that thought is.
"Have you ever considered what a load of anxiety is lifted from our
minds as to what we are going to have for breakfast, for dinner, for
supper? Have you ever thought about that?"
"You're damned right, we have," from fifty throats at once.
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[Illustration: The Bull-dog behind the flag has licked all comers in
Western Canada. The men are Canadian veterans, who, with bull-dog
persistency, "held the line" in Flanders Author on extreme right.]
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"Be patient, please, for just a moment. Have you ever thought that
we are saved absolutely every petty worry as to whether the roast
beef will be tough, the chops old and unpalatable, the fish mushy, or
the pudding not properly seasoned? Not a particle of troublesome
speculation about any of these things."
"For God's sake, let them trouble us all they want," from the
audience. He continued:
"We take our places at the table calm and serene in the perfect
confidence that there is not the least doubt as to what we are going
to eat, and filled full of adoration in the sacredness of our food,
for do we not know that it is like unto the holiest man that ever
trod this old earth of ours--the same, yesterday, today and forever."
A roar of approval greeted the speech and the somewhat blasphemous
reference, but from that time on we took the humorous view of the
situation, thereby saving ourselves a lot of misery.
One night at dinner, when our usual stew-portions were served, one of
the fellows left the table for a few minutes, and while he was gone
we switched his soup, substituting water, and hastily, but
thoroughly, scraped every scrap of meat off the bone. He came back,
tasted of his soup, then poured it over the table. He picked up his
soup bone, looked for the meat, and sent the bone flying down the
cabin. Unluckily it struck an officer and he was promptly bundled
into the clink (guardhouse). He was an Irishman, and on his trial
the following morning he made a thoroughly characteristic defense.
"Sor, to tell yez the thruth, I just happened to think av the
athrocities av them damned Germans on the helpless wimen and
childher, an' I thought how would I feel if those near an' dear to me
were threated in that way, an' on the impulse av the moment, without
thinkin', or lookin', I flung the bone, imaginin' I was right in the
middle av the fightin'."
It didn't save him, but it cut off some days from his stay in the
clink.
On more than one occasion our thirst for revenge on the stew was
gratified by seeing it heaved all over the floor by a sudden roll of
the boat in rough weather.
Our chief form of entertainment while aboard ship, in addition to the
band concerts, was the vaudeville shows that were given. Among our
cosmopolitan crowd much fine talent was discovered--songs, readings,
exhibitions of juggling, boxing competitions, etc.--served to while
away the monotony of the voyage and make life livable during the
crossing.
Church services were held regularly every Sunday; the two
denominations represented were Church of England (Episcopal) and
Roman Catholic. Mass was held at eight-thirty and the Protestant
minister commenced his service at ten-thirty, at which were assembled
all the balance of the battalion. Although my attendance was
compulsory, these services were deeply impressive and will remain in
my memory as long as I live. The majestic ship ploughing through the
water and the swish of the spray mingling with the men's voices as we
sang the hymns we learned in childhood made a lasting impression on
all of us, and I am sure that the emotion of those moments has stayed
with every man throughout our campaign in France and since.