Richardieux was now an officer of the King. The French could scarcely believe their leader had defected. Britishers were baffled; something was afoot. Although he was an undesirable, Auré was silently thought of by others as doing the right thing. After all, a male fighting for the King was the only male who mattered now-a-days. Nevertheless, in the ensuing weeks, rumours abounded and Auré was accused of them all. Because he was taken on strength with the Van Doos, it was said no other battalion would endear him. The 22nd Battalion was the dominion’s most acclaimed French battalion. The pet name Britishers assigned the battalion was the “Van Doos,” a knock-off of the French word “twenty-second” or “vingt-deuxieme.” The 22nd was so called across all of English Canada. Cashiering would, in all likelihood, be ordered once his true identity was revealed. Many were of the opinion he should be shot before further damage could be done to the prestige of the Corps within the Empire. He deserted the Mounted Force and joined the Expeditionary Force. At least if he deserted this force he would be executed, English Canadians said triumphantly.
Returned troops like Lindsay or Kellynch, who disliked Auré intensely, tried to make others understand that the accusations were unjust and to see reason. In fairness, that year saw almost all who were inclined to go enlist, and Richardieux could claim greater gallantry than just about any other Franco-Ottawan. Furthermore, after summer 1916, conviction in the big breakthrough receded, numbers of recruits dwindled, and the sentiment of pushing fell in the light of smashes seen in recent times. England’s Canadian sons joined their brothers-in-arms by the few thousand each month; however, most wanted to be part of the Artillery, Engineer, or Medical Corps. During the previous year, government let down rules to allow a good deal more enlistees into the military. Citizens or municipalities could organize battalions themselves. Sportsmen, Teetotaller, and Highland, among other battalions, were raised privately. Unbeknownst at the time to these new enlistees, once overseas, the same battalions would often be disbanded, and each lad was scattered to a different section of the Corps. Medical restrictions, which prevented those in the early years from going, were amended. Bantam units were created for males who were five foot, three inches tall or less. The Forestry Corps recruited those with poor eyesight and who were hard of hearing, if experience had already been fielded. Initially told the duration was a “White man’s war,” some coloured males were accepted with prudence and, eventually, hundreds of Chinese and Japanese Canadians would enlist. An entire Black labour battalion was formed. The Corps’ buried or returned sons, in the amount of 80,000 a year, were not able to see replacement at anywhere near full volume. Numerous battalions were not in positions to retain numbers and, in turn, these battalions were broken up to become railway chums, sent to the Forestry Corps, or acted as reinforcements to the fighting units at the front. With spotty statistics, and Hughes spearheading the faulty good cheer of lads in uniform far and wide, few Ottawans realized voluntary agreement to go was coming to a close.
Because alcohol had become an enemy of the war, posters downtown read, He who is for alcohol is against England! as well as, In the great tug of war, help Britain by abstaining from drink! Days before Auré departed, he ordered Pembina’s liquor to join the ranks of all patriotic Ottawans. The sole exception was Emmett’s fine rum. Auré had the rum given to the front. One suggestion made in the dominion was that the boys should be disallowed their daily rum, though the most widely accepted opinion was that they should be allotted one of the only respites in their horrid days. In mid-September, prohibition was declared in Ontario, as well as in British Columbia. The summer months saw the other western provinces officially abstain from drink. King Alcohol was publicly poured down city drains and into ditches and lakes from coast to coast. One by one, each province went dry, except for slacker Quebec. At the same time, vacations to “Historic old Quebec” exploded. It was agreed that alcohol was an insult to front lines sacrifices and that troops should return to a dominion superior to the one they left to defend. Wheat, fruit, and the like proved necessary for the effort. Wine was the sole alcohol of any kind that could be consumed, though bars, clubs, and stores were prevented from selling all forms of alcohol. Citizens were permitted, however, to drink in their own residences. Distilleries, too, could manufacture liquor and send the substance to other provinces.
Auré had enlisted “for the duration.” But, now, no one knew quite what the “duration” meant. Citizens wondered if troops would return. Such a thought never occurred in the first few years; at train stations, solely cheers and well wishes were given. In 1916, tears were surely in the eyes of those on platforms bidding farewell. Recruits were telling their families, “I couldn’t die in a better cause58… One crowded hour of glorious life is worth an age without name59… Adieu, parents, je meurs pour Dieu, Le Roi et ma Patrie60 (Farewell, parents, I die for God, the King and my country)… Mon âme à dieu, mon coeur à ma mère, à ma patrie mon sang et ma vie61 (My soul to God, my heart to my mother, and to my native land my blood and my life)… A glorious death is a living memory62… If I fall, I shall have done something with my life worth doing63… It is sweet and glorious to die for one’s country64… I count my life well lost to serve my country best65.”
Floods cannot quench the love of a parent66, and the evening prior to his leave, Auré found himself in the nursery. “You cannot pass beyond our boundless love67. Sleep on, beloved, and take thy rest68,” he said while he ran his hand over his sleeping son’s hair. A badge that read, My father is at the Front, which all young boys took extraordinary pride in, was laid on the nightstand. Auré took a last look at René, then the little one was left to his dreams.
The morning of his departure, Pembina’s master and Llewellyn were deep in discussion. Leaving a lonely wife and child69, Auré looked resplendent in his officer’s uniform complete with a collar and necktie. Officers bought their proper uniforms of tailored, refined, rich material, often times complete with sword, pistol, and binoculars. Llewellyn gave his solemn word he would see to the immaculate running of the estate as long as its master was absent.
The Laurentiens came to bid their farewells. Only at Michel’s command did Nico finally let Auré be. All remaining Laurentiens were present, except Frédéric, who had gone as a regular with the 4th Division. Edmund would soon join the 4th Division. Edmund refused to forsake his partner once Lawrence found out about the lovers. Consequently, Lawrence disinherited Edmund and then ordered him to enlist, which was done not so much for honour as it was to have Edmund leave Ottawa before a scandal could break. Regardless, for the first time since the war started, Edmund stopped drinking daily, as the endless humiliation of remaining behind finally ended.
Put together in Bramshott, England, in April, the division crossed the channel on August 12th. Hughes and his colleagues were obstinate in not authorizing French regiments or raising new ones. Let brotherly love continue70, Frédéric cared not at all for the Empire that caused his brother’s death; however, he was delighted to avenge his brother, as males did so per the gentleman’s code from coast to coast. The military gave Frédéric his uniform, including a rough serge with a button-up tunic collar.
Mme. Laurentien gifted her nephew a uniquely Canadian wartime food: a Trench cake. The dessert was made of lard, molasses, flour, baking soda, raisins, spices, and brown sugar rather than white, to keep with the changing times. It was a simple, though delightful, light spice cake. She regularly sent the sweet to her sons. Since only items that could keep for a lengthy time were sent overseas, fruitcakes, maple sugar, cigarettes, chocolate, and tea were the most common foods, parceled in spectacular numbers.
Because an officer was entitled to a batman, James, a footman, stood awaiting at the carriage in the morning. The sergeant who did James’ paperwork knew the servant was underage, but chaps were needed overseas, and a male willing to go was harder and harder to come by. On the attestation papers, James was eighteen. He was to go to shine his master’s shoes, do his room, prepare the morning bath, burnish belts, and wake his master.
The double row of servants curtsied and bowed to the master as he walked by them. René was in a dress and would remain so until the age of about four. “My best boy71,” whispered the nanny, a sweet, fair, Welsh girl, as she held René in her arms. Auré asked René for a gentleman’s agreement to take care of his mother until his father’s return. En lieu of shaking hands, Auré momentarily enclosed his son’s plump fist in his own hand.
Llewellyn and Mrs.—, the head woman, stood side-by-side at the opposite end of the rows. The pair kept a watchful eye on the lower orders. Trepidation radiated from the head woman in the eyes of the servants. Her large key ring, a staple sound on the estate, lay still out of deference to the master’s parting. Llewellyn turned slightly to her, borrowed a line from Hamlet, and whispered, “Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.”
The master of Pembina then walked up to the mistress. Momentarily, the sabre dangling at Auré’s side was all that was heard in the lovely, brisk fall day. Aubrey pulled her shawl a bit closer in uncertainty. She tried to block out the thought of all the infedelities in their marriage. Gently, he put the leathered glove of his gentleman’s uniform to the side of her cheek. He bent down and kissed her on the side of her temple. “Dilectus (Latin for “Beloved”),” Auré whispered simply at her side.
Though she feared their final moment together, he displayed graciousness after all that had transpired in recent months. It was as though she was struck by lightning. The changing of the guards that kept her heart passed from Emmett to Auré. She fell in love with him. No! He can’t possibly leave! He must stay! This can’t be happening! she thought in great despair. Auré seated himself in the carriage. Aubrey watched her husband go down the drive and off to war.