Letters from Briarch and Rupert were delivered to Pembina at the same time, per usual, though by normal post this time. Their letters were so similar, they could have just written one to Aubrey. Briarch’s letter started with,
Our unit is presently situated near ____(censored). Don’t mind the lead, Aubrey, it is just ink has become reserved solely for addressing letters as well as for grave front line messages. Church parade only ended, so I have the time to write now.
Newfoundland was ordered out of Gallipoli, where the regiment fought with distinction and was sent to the Western Front. So, the regiment’s here with us this spring, although will stay with the Old Home’s Division under which she fights. The Australians have come from Gallipoli, as well, and intentionally came to us to teach them of trench raiding.
‘A jollie good booke whereon to looke was better to me than gold 45,’ was what our mate said after he took part in a raid and was given a furlough. If one volunteers for a successful raid, one can be granted leave by the officers. However, Rupert and I were allotted our first furlough. After about a year here, a regular is allowed ten to fourteen days of leave per year, while officers are granted four furloughs a year. Among the rank and file, there is continual stress over this matter.
Canadian Tommies, when granted leave, habitually took to England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales to visit relatives. For the Tommy Canuck on furlough who did not have family in the British Isles, they would visit Bath, Picadilly, and Shorncliffe, though the biggest draw was incomparibly London. Since Vancouver, Toronto, and Quebec City were the sole cities to claim over one hundred thousand people, and Montreal the only city with one million citizens, the boys often wrote to their families about the large and lively city of London, including females who drank and smoked in public and who wore trousers.
We went to London, you see, and stayed at The Maple Leaf Club. We had a grand old time. We met a few VAD’s. It takes time to train nurses, and since time is not on our side, women who want to serve who are not nurses can do so with the Voluntary Aid Detachment. All the fellows call them “Very Adorable Darlings.” They work as partially trained nurses assisting nurses, they drive ambulances, and they are employed as clerical staff in convalescent hospitals.
However, after we returned the Major did away with our bear. Our mate who found the bear is from Burnaby. The bear was christened “Burnaby” and “Bernie” for short. Poor little Bernie had been court-martialed a while back for eating the Major’s supper then trying to take down the officer’s tent. The major was of the opinion that because Bernie was no longer a cub, but a medium-sized bear, he had to go. I sent mother a picture of myself bottle-feeding Bernie a little while ago. She wrote back she nearly fainted when she saw the kodak.
Mascots were well-favoured in the Corps. Dogs, cats, and especially goats were the most sought-after animals. Bears proved the biggest delight for mascots. They were either brought from Canada or found in abandoned towns or in the countryside near the front. Newfoundland fancied Labradors they took with them from their island. The pets were like family to the troops, and affection towards mascots was shown in granting the animals ranks.
Bernie outranked the major, so we did the only thing to do when loyalty is split. We went after Bernie. Our unit (50 troops) scoured the area. We came upon a battalion of Jerry’s. One of them was taken hostage, bribed, then released. Bernie was found outside a small village. The major was livid over the derring-do. He yelled at us, loud enough for the Germans to hear, that should our “asinine behaviour that shamed the King” happen again, he would whip us all.
North of Ploegsteert Wood in Belgium, the Corps executed its principal trench raid. The raid began near La Petite Douve farm the evening of November 16th, 1915. The 5th and 7th Battalions took nearly a fortnight to prepare. Ahead of time, gunners fired relentlessly to ensure the path would be void of barbed wire. Ten officers and one hundred and seventy troops set out for German lines during nighttime.
The two battalions left the safety of their lines without kits or identification tags, which were left behind. However, they did have black camouflage. The 5th Battalion started from the south and worked their way north towards the farm. Along the way, the noise made from crossing a wire-filled ditch gave away the battalion as they made mad dash to cross the obstacle. The battalion quickly faced enemy fire and were made to retire, though not a casualty was claimed.
Under harsh rains and with more than three hundred yards west to go, the 7th carried on from north to east. The German guards who stood watch, caught unawares by the rain and the hour, fell at the hands of Captain J. L. Thomas and his troops. In silence, the party went about in enemy trenches. The troops hurled bombs into enemy dugouts, and as the confused Germans came out, English-Canadian rifle lads and grenadiers fired and bayoneted away. Instantly, close to thirty foe fell or became wounded.
Twenty minutes after the fighting commenced, the troops left, along with twelve Boche prisoners and a newfangled gas respirator made of rubber, to be promptly given to the intelligence sector. Enemy reinforcements then appeared to slice the Allies back. They found their front trenches entirely clear of any persons, friend or foe.
Enemies who remained in the trenches or who tried to go after the Canadian Tommies into No Man’s Land soon met with English-Canadian fire, as per rehearsal. A number of Germans succumbed to their wounds from the fire. The Canadian Tommies endured no casualties, aside from a sole mate who fell after an English-Canadian rifle was mistakenly discharged from a fumble made in the dark, as well as a casualty by random German fire. La Petite Douve would prove one of the most esteemed raids of the duration in its entirety. Canada would make quite the name for herself as aggressive and efficient in trench raid warfare.
A few weeks later, Pembina received just one letter from the Agnews. It was penned by Briarch. His letter began with, He sleeps an iron sleep, slain fighting for his country46 and is buried in a foreign field, forever England.