Days had passed since the news that brought the joy in Aubrey’s life crashing down about her. All Aubrey could think of, about her fallen husband, was He did but do his duty simply, bravely, and in the doing died95. The official letter from the Palace had just been received. The King commands me to assure you of the true sympathy of His Majesty and The Queen in your time of sorrow.
Secretary of State for War.
And there will be joy in the morning96 as right before breakfast, Michel was heard by Aubrey while he rushed through the halls of Pembina. He was an “extra.” He had unforeseen war news that was just delivered. What in God’s name?! thought Aubrey at the commotion. Unaccompanied by a footman or Llewellyn, he had burst into the room.
“Aubrey! Aubrey! The day of sorrow and of doubt is gone, thy love remembered and thy haven won97! He’s alive!” said Michel, with a telegram from Étienne in hand.
As her mind raced to whom Michel could be referring, Aubrey violently exclaimed, “Who?! Jean-Baptiste? If not, then—”
“No more sorrow, no more weeping, no more pain98! It’s surely Auré!” interrupted Michel, still recovering from disbelief.
For a moment, the shock was so great that Aubrey could not comprehend the situation. The pair nearly succumbed to tears, the former from inexplicable felicity, the latter from pain refreshed anew at the reminder of his sons’ deaths. Étienne’s message read, Please do not be alarmed, given this is a sealed cable, but I write joyful news. I hope the official government letter has not arrived at Pembina yet.
Mix-ups were fairly commonplace. Harry, wanting to get away from the mud and rats of the trenches, joined the Royal Naval Air Service like his big brother Hugh. Not long after the transfer had taken place, the Harringtons received an Official War Office letter explaining their son had fallen. The document solely stated H. Harrington had been killed in action. Government did not consider that both brothers serving had the same first initial. The Harringtons did not know to whom the letter referred. The family waited for a number of horrid weeks until the organizational muddle was corrected and a second letter was sent, notifying that “Hugh Lancelot Harrington” had been killed upholding the honour of the British name.
Hugh died by fire in his Sopwith Pup. It was obvious he was burnt alive, the type of death pilots feared the most, unable to reach his gun, still in front of him, once his plane was discovered. But his mates penned a polished version of his death in letters to his family. Aubrey had heard of a maritime family whose son was serving at the front. One day, the son was ordered with a mate to drive to another location in a vehicle. After a bomb landed nearby, the pair was killed. Government Official letters were sent to the son’s family, stating he had fallen. The entire community of the son’s family went to the funeral to pay their respects. A few weeks after the funeral, the brother of the lad, who was also serving, quite simply saw his brother from afar while on furlough in London. The brother who was thought deceased was in London on leave as well. After the pair embraced, the brother found to be alive explained that the last moment saw a verbal instruction given by an officer for him to switch places with another regular. The switch went undocumented. Aubrey wondered how quickly the pair must have gone to a telegraph office to cable their mother.
To be sure, a few days later, Aubrey received acknowledgment from her husband’s commander. The crisp letter was clearly written in a tent, one of the few luxuries officers were entitled to. The black-bordered mourning stationary was at variance to the content, and the letter was written in a gentleman’s penmanship. The letter read that Auré was thought to be killed after a raid, but proved to be a Prisoner of War in a German camp. He is in Hunland! thought Aubrey. Over the course of the next week, more letters were delivered, explaining the most current updates of her husband’s predicament.
James had written on stationary from a captive Hun. Aubrey had not realized James was literate. The parchment was dirt-smudged and scrawled on for lack of a hard surface to write. James wrote that civilians fled around their regiment as the Corps marched into the town. A night raid was staged. Being an officer who spoke all languages involved, Auré was made to be in charge. They came upon an enemy platoon with whom Auré had seen hand-to-hand combat. After crawling under wire, he and James were separated. James ensured, however, that Auré was unconscious at the time of surrender. Aubrey breathed a sigh of relief. Surrender was akin to cowardice. Being incapacitated at the time of capture was the only option deemed honourable.
The letter was signed, He was always kind and generous99. Am honoured to have fought for a master such as mine. I’m also acquainted with some blokes who would do well to not think solely of themselves. James would not leave his master until released and would send further word as soon as possible. Because his mistress did not know how to, it was Llewellyn who cabled money to James, along with a message to return: he need not stay because Auré was prisoner.
Prisoners asked for many of the same articles; sugar was hard to get, along with writing materials and cigarettes, but her husband did not eat sweets, and he was one of the only males she knew who did not keep a diary. Briarch had informed her that strawberry jam had become very fancied at the front. She had heard from all the boys that nothing raised their spirits more than a letter from family or friends. The post was delivered at the front near daily. Before he fell, Jean-Baptiste wrote to Aubrey how he would cringe when he looked at his mates who did not regularly receive letters and that when they returned to their dugouts, they would often wipe away tears. If there was ever a time to tell one’s husband one’s true feelings, it was when he was a Prisoner of War. Tender thoughts from a distance100: to pen such a disclosure, to simply write we are thinking of you every minute101, was at the forefront of Aubrey’s desires. Still, since his departure, not one letter had come from him. Perhaps he penned letters to another, one of his mistresses whom he was in love with. At this probability, Aubrey put aside the very idea of composing a letter fit for her husband. The letter she wrote solely described details concerning Pembina. The one endearing part was the letter closing, We miss you102.
Auré loved Aubrey’s hair down at night and in soft ringlets. She had cut a lock of her curls to enclose in the package. However, because he was probably sleeping with other Ladies, Aubrey could not bring herself to convince her husband to want her instead. The curls were put away in the top drawer of her stationary. Candles were placed in the care package instead.
Aubrey thought, What if he does not come back? He could be shot. Or made to be an enemy bearer and be killed in a crossfire. He could be in Hunland for the remainder of the war — even longer. René might never be acquainted with his father. What was the name of Auré’s commanding officer? Harvey, was it? What an ugly name. Thank God my mother had class. No, Aubrey specifically remembered his commander had a handsome name. Mr.— was quite the gentleman Auré had referred to before his departure. Perhaps further news of her husband could be ascertained from his commander. The thought of whether the officer was still alive came to mind. She was used to the question by now. She had long ere grown accustomed to officers being killed at alarming rates and knew better than to address the letter with the name of the most recent officer, as one could not hope he was still living. The letter was simply addressed with “Dear, Sir.”
The enquiry was answered in prompt fashion and, by Aubrey’s correct presumption, was from another officer who had replaced the late one.
At present, I have nothing else to report, Madam, but by British High Command the boys are ordered out of the Somme area. A splendid show was fought by the 4th Division, north of Courcelette in October. The 4th Division alleviated the 1st through 3rd Divisions, who were terribly thrashed, attempting to take Regina Trench since the middle of September. This trench is known to the boys as “ditch of evil memory.” The 4th successfully took Regina Trench on the 11th of November. Desire Trench was then taken by our lads as well, a week after Regina Trench. The Desire Trench was the last campaign of the Somme. The calmer region of Artois will be where the Corps will spend Christmas. The boys will find exceptionally toiled for repose after endless attacks and counterattacks, always under heavy shellfire, for soil that never seemed to change hands. Here, the Corps will have its numbers heightened to exemplary capacity and aided with the arrival of the 4th Division. I hasten to add that Major Richardieux deeply regrets not being able to be with the boys as we prepare for the next assault in springtime. Nevertheless, the approaching campaign will be, rest assured Madam, of no great importance, a mere side-show for our glorious superiors. I ask to remain your obedient servant,
C.O. Sir—.
The Somme ended with torrents of rain in the middle of November. Smashes were literally unable to persist due to weather. One centimeter of mud was gained for every Allied life laid down. In areas, one thousand shells pulverized one square metre of earth. Casualties between the Allies and Germany numbered over one million since the campaign began, with not a thing done to bring about changing Germany’s position, including positions that were supposed to be taken the principal day of the campaign. Canada suffered a stupendous 24,029 casualties, of which one third were deaths, in the most perpetuated campaign history would write for British warfare. Withal, the Somme solidified the Corps as an elite fighting force. David Lloyd George, who recently became the British Prime Minister, gave the highest commendation and adulation to the Canadians for the success at Courcelette because taking this village was one of the sole clear Allied successes of the Somme. He penned, The Canadians played a part of such distinction that thenceforward they were marked out as storm troops; for the remainder of the war, they were brought along to head the assault in one great battle after another. Whenever the Germans found the Canadian Corps coming into the line, they prepared for the worst.
Far in the outer reaches of St. John’s, a massive herd of caribou was charging the plains. The numerous hooves were the sole articles to displace the damp snow unseen by man. Leading the herd, the bull bowed his head, then ferociously hit the horns of the mammal next to him. In response to the command, hundreds of antlers clashed in unison, veering to one side. The herd assaulted the steep assent of the cliff103.