TRAINING FOR RUNNER
Our next move was to the town of the best town we had yet "honored"
with our presence. We reached here in the dead of night and awoke
the sleeping inhabitants by lustily informing them that, "Here We Are
Again." Another classic of the Canadian Division went echoing over
the place, a well-known American hymn--"Hail, Hail, the Gang's All
Here." Twenty-four hours had not passed before the long-suffering
citizens were only too well aware that the gang was all there.
It was while we were stopping at the city of E---- on one of our rest
billets that I first began my training as a company runner. These
runners were formed after Neuve Chapelle. In that engagement
disastrous results followed the cutting of all telephone
communication, and it was suggested that men be trained to run with
messages when other means could not be used. Being small, though not
slight, and active, I was chosen for this duty and my training began.
In such condition were we that in two weeks' time I could carry forty
pounds comfortably at a jog trot for a distance of five miles.
Of the utmost importance was the carrying and delivering of messages
correctly. An amusing instance of the difficulty of doing this
occurred while being trained. We were running at relays and we would
do our work exactly as it would be done in the heat of battle, and
the first man was given the message, "To O.C. Seventh Battalion: Am
held up by barbed wire entanglements; send reinforcements to my
right." When the message was delivered by the seventh and last man
of the relay, the officer receiving it got the following astounding
information, "Am surrounded by wild Italians; lend me three- and
fourpence till tonight."
A period of intense training followed, chiefly instruction in trench
making, including attacking and defending, and for us runners a
grueling spell of practice in carrying messages and endurance work.
At this place we would dash along the canal bank in our early
morning's training, exchanging greetings in execrable French with the
owners of the barges that floated lazily down the stream. Next, we
would meet a bunch of Sikhs, who would gravely extend greetings in
their dignified manner. Farther along a group of Hindoo cavalrymen,
riding their horses with superb grace, would smile at us, informing
us in what English they knew that they would sooner ride than run,
with which we agreed. Huge Pathans, dwarfing us by their tremendous
height, would gaze in grave wonder at these foolish Feringhees.
After our run we would strip and, shouting with health and laughter,
hurl ourselves into the icy waters of the canal, much to the wonder
of the ladies of the barges, who gazed unabashed at our naked beauty.
With these splendid open-air exercises we were continually
undergoing, it is little wonder that the resources of the
commissariat were at times sadly taxed to meet the voracious demands
of our appetites.
After breakfast the runners would fall in, in front of the battalion,
for the purpose of carrying messages backwards and forwards--all done
with the idea of still further improving the discipline necessary for
that most important work, which must be done without any errors as
there is no room for excuses of any kind.
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[Illustration: MOVING A GUN INTO POSITION.]
Work of this kind has to be done by man power, no other being
available so near the front. The men are British Tommies, and the
gun is a heavy fieldpiece.
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To many people the work of a runner is an unknown quantity but its
tremendous importance is told by Neuve Chapelle. On March 10, 1915,
the advance there and the fearful casualties to the British forces
warned everyone of the nature of the German defenses. It was our
first advance since November, 1914, but the ground gained wasn't
worth the price paid. One of the causes of the premature holding up
of the attacking troops was the failure of reinforcements to be
hurled in at the proper time; this, in turn, was due to the fact that
all telephonic communication had been cut off, and that although men
were sent on foot with messages, it was found, if they arrived at
their destination at all, that they bungled the message unless it
were a written one. Since that time the staff has been thoroughly
awake to the dire need of having properly trained runners who can
endure the utmost strain for such duties.
Other regiments of the British Army were billeted here, and the
endless stream of traffic was a sight to see. Infantry would swing
through the streets--short thickset Tommies, tall and dignified
Sikhs, gigantic Pathans, short, stocky Gurkhas, lithe Canucks, all
making a wondrously interesting procession. Transports, limbers and
ambulances rattled and roared unceasingly over the cobbles.
Many interesting scraps took place between various champions of
regimental traditions. Here a burly Highlander and an English
cavalryman exchanged fisticuffs for a minute, until a guard turned
out and seized the unruly ones.
One enterprising Frenchman hung out a sign bearing the magic legend,
"Bass in bottle--Guinness' Stout," and in half an hour the
_estaminet_ was jammed with husky humanity. In less than no time the
nectar was exhausted, but not the soldierly thirst, and the
disappointed ones became so unruly that the services of the guard
were again required. My good angel was with me that day, for I
managed to possess myself of two full bottles of Guinness' and,
keeping up the reputation of the battalion, it didn't cost me
anything.