Aubrey was clutching at the high collar of her nightgown. She wondered if Auré had ever been small. When he was young, his beloved nanny would run her hand through his and Philippe’s hair to an instant calming effect. In his later years, one of the only times Auré relaxed was when he lay on top of Aubrey while she rubbed his back. Aubrey made a mental note to do so for him at a later time. When he initially returned from overseas, he slept on the floor. Comfort could not find him in a bed after so much time at the front.
The root of innumerable marriages disintegrating in everything but name, nervous trouble was affecting as many soldiers as gunshot wounds.
Commencing with shaking of hands or tremors, a contemporary sort of injury was introduced with the start of the effort. At first, perplexed doctors described the new wound as physical. It was believed that harm was done to the brain after shock waves were felt from shells erupting. As time elapsed, soldiers far from No Man’s Land succumbed to the invisible trauma. By the Somme, the diagnosis was likened to a psychological one. The medical condition composed of two sorts, sick and wounded, of which wounded was thought to be gallant. The term “Shell shock” was banned the previous year.
A statement came from the Canadian Army Medical Corps saying, “Shell shock is a manifestation of childishness and femininity, against which there is no remedy.” Frenzied, malingering, and cowardly were names assigned to those thought afflicted with the malady, usually the uneducated man or non-gentleman regular. Other doctors and officers were more kind-hearted. These casualties were often transferred to the rear for bombproof posts.
As an officer, Auré’s honourable neurasthenia from war-strain was bothering him. No longer does the helmet press thy brow, oft weary with its surging thoughts of battle187; nonetheless, he had awoken screaming bloody murder. Outside his door, there was an unspoken agreement between Aubrey, Llewellyn, and Philippe to keep this night quiet like so many other times.
Llewellyn went to rouse the chef. The small hours saw to any dish provided for Edwardians. Eating never ceased in their leisure world.
After a time, Philippe returned to his own quarters. He could do no more to comfort his brother. Philippe was visiting for a short amount of time, being at Pembina only weeks. Proper vacations were another casualty of the war.
The greatest Ace that the war would acknowledge was accredited with his final kill. Germany’s illustrious “The Red Baron,” Baron Manfred Albrecht Freiherr von Richtofen, was shot down by the Allies. A part of the Imperial Air Service, Jagdgeschewader 1 (Fighter Wing I) was stationed at Cappy, a town close to the Somme River. On a sunny Sunday in April, Rittmeister (Cavalry Captain) Richtofen fastened himself into his famed Fokker Dr. 1 triplane. For his former cavalry regiment, he had the plane painted red. The war’s most feared flying unit, commanded by one of the most famous German men of the century, set about for British territory.
Atop Vaux-sur-Somme, France, Richtofen’s Flying Circus of Albatrosses and the Royal Air Force engaged in a most splendid dogfight. The Red Baron descended quite modestly to the earth in zig-zag fashion. Richtofen shadowed a young, new airman, Canadian Lieutenant Wilfrid “Wop” May. From behind, a veteran Canadian charged Richtofen in aid of his fellow mate. In his single seater, Sopwith Camel, the veteran Canadian plunged considerably, then shot at Richtofen. After, the veteran ascended to dodge the earth. Australian gunners aground opened fire encouragingly. Richtofen continued to chase May. Hit in the torso by a bullet, Richtofen crash landed in a field. Still strapped in his cockpit, Richtofen succumbed to his wounds.
The sensational title of marksman to down Ricthtofen fell to the veteran Canadian, Captain Arthur Roy Brown. Brown would be accorded a bar to his Distinguished Service Cross medal for the brilliant kill. He would not see the Victoria Cross England had sacredly agreed to bestow to the pilot who downed Richtofen.
After recovering Ricthofen’s body, the Allies accorded him full military honours and a full Allied military funeral the following day in France. Pallbearers were Allied Airmen. A Royal Air Force member flew above the German Cappy base and let fall a message notifying them of Richtofen’s fate. Brown penned the condolence letter to the Prussian aristocratic Richthofen family. The Red Baron’s death enormously uplifted the morale of the Allies.
Outside Pembina, the wind whistled in the dark night. A few of the little Laurentiens could be heard running round the upstairs nursery. They were playing with their wooden planes SE 5a, which their hero Billy Bishop flew, and Sopwith Camel, the most fancied Allied plane. The Spring Offensive raged on.
“Auré, what are the ages of our younger cousins? Will any of them be called up?” inquired Philippe. Days before, Borden had lowered the minimum age of conscripts to nineteen. In unwonted fashion, Parliament was in secret session. So many of the Laurentiens were gone or still over there that the family could not form a hockey team for the first time in years.
“Not this year, but they will soon if ze war lasts until 1920,” Auré trailed off. The war’s drudgery had no end in sight. Auré was writing to his commanding officer. The officer had held his rank for months, an audacious length. The officer who informed Aubrey of Auré’s transfer had long ere been killed. Philippe took one of Aubrey’s knights. He and his sister-in-law were playing chess.
The Treaty of Brest-Litovsk was recently agreed to. Russia had declared Armistice. The Eastern Front no longer existent, Germany’s troops transferred west. A massive show was unremitting against the Allies. The foe was desperate to break Allied lines ahead of the untutored American, proudly pet named the “doughboys,” start. Obliteration claimed the British fifth army. The Allies were thrown about in withdraw. The Corps was charmingly unaffected on Vimy territory. Until war’s end, the German army would refuse to attack any territory held by the Canadians.
Nevertheless, Union government, as shaken as the House of Lords, jettisoned every absolution. Old Originals, discharged on a three-month leave, saw government cancel their long-overdue furloughs. Numerous men returned to the dominion against orders, though autumn would see many rejoin their brothers-in-arms. Even so, hardly any soldiers saw their families after voting Union. Cries of duty fulfilled went unheard by government as well.
A pawn moved across the board.
In French, Philippe asked, “How are the French conscripts treated, Auré?”
A rather raucous greeting was shown to Military Service Agreement soldiers. High Command gravely apprised the term “conscript” would see its vocalizer reprimanded. “Conchees” were to be referred to as “drafted men.” Some were bullied during training, though once overseas, a soldier could be put in the clink for as long as five days for mistreating a Military Service Agreement troop.
Auré replied in French, “My men say many are frightfully unfriendly to begin with, though once acquainted with regulars they flatter jolly—” Rarely speaking his mother tongue, Auré paused to find the word in French. Unable to do so, he finished the sentence in English, “soldiers.”
Philippe said quietly and calmy, “They really have you.” The younger brother carried on with a lighter note, “Laval University issued exemption papers for the whole of their student body.”
Quebec was sensibly safeguarding all.
Aubrey added, “My dear friend Mr. Edwards was conscripted as well. He too applied for exemption. Ontario is having a terrible time with the matter as well.”
Ontario had stringent mandates in deference to her sons in uniform.
Auré interjected, “‘is father pulled some strings in London. Apparently, his father ‘as not spoken to him since.”
Hundreds of repudiated were made to go over there. Refusal meant a court martial and at minimum two years in an army prison. Few would go on to serve their sentence.
Philippe spoke rather angrily, “That Edwards fellow refuses to fight and does not even volunteer in the dominion that has taken him in, and he came here in utter disgrace, I might add. I have met that male on a few occasions. Arrogance is surely the principal trait of the coward. He ought to take my brother’s place. Auré has been maimed, a POW and is now—”
Auré interrupted, “‘ow much did the Easter Riots cost?”
Philippe assented, “Three hundred thousand dollars in damages. Immediately afterwards, Father ordered that I bring our sisters to Raimbault from Quebec City.”
Aubrey said, while pondering her next move, “I could return with you.”
Auré informed her she would do nothing of the kind.
While discerning where to place her rook, she said, “Come now, I would like to visit St. Catherine’s.”
The angry response was, “You are my wife and by law you will obey me.”
The pair turned to stare at Auré.
“It iz not safe there and will only worsen az time passes. As for that circus of an election, where Borden let you vote only so that ‘e would win—”
Philippe, in an authoritarian tone, told his brother to calm himself. Auré stormed from the room. Aubrey’s calm counterattack captured Philippe’s queen. Philippe looked at her intently. He played the game188, but after a while he continued, “Aubrey, anger is a cover for pain. However, the Archbishop spoke to Auré about serving at father’s request. Father also wrote to the Pope about conscription. He was baptized at the Vatican, so he received a reply,” her brother-in-law finished quickly. Philippe continued in a toneless voice, as one does when a certainty must be astutely proven, “Father ordered Auré to resign his enlistment. Surely, for the first time in his life, Auré disobeyed father.”
Aubrey asked, “Though why in Heaven’s name did he do that?!”
Philippe answered, “A soldier and a man189, he feels he must. Once a soldier, always a soldier. At any rate, father asked Auré for his word not to go back to the front. Auré was commanded to Raimbault after he re-inlisted.”
Aubrey said, resignedly, “So that is why we went to Raimbault.” Crestfallenly, she thought he had truly wanted to have a vacation with his family.
“Neither father nor mother have allowed him at Raimbault since his divorce. Did you not find that odd, that he returned for the first time in years? Father told him he was not to go into Quebec City itself because he probably would have faced police harassment and threats to his life from civilians. Father asked him for the last time to resign his enlistment. Auré refused. At that he was told to leave Raimbault. It is surely astounding Father did not disinherit him before. Though the day he did… I have only witnessed father miss Mass once before, when his own father passed. He sat in his study the whole day and did not speak to a soul. We are brothers and comrades, we lie side by side and our faith and our hopes are the same190, but I had to steal away from the family to come here. Father, though, must know where I am.”
Auré acted so capriciously at times that Aubrey felt she would never fully comprehend him. Further hurt over her husband’s indifference towards her, Aubrey wanted a change of subject. After much pressing, Philippe explained the Easter riots.
“A Spotter, federal detectives are derogatorily called that, arrested a man in a bowling alley who did not have his papers. If you do not have discharge papers on you publicly, you are sent to jail for a night.”
Aubrey nodded to indicate she knew that law.
“Riots were started by a few thousand. The fellow who did not have his certificate was released, but that did not hinder the gathered. A police station was broken into. A number of police officers were beaten. Rocks and blocks of ice were heaved through the streets. A mob also smashed a Military Service Registry. File cabinets were thrown into the snow. English stores had their windows smashed. Then, the military was brought in. On Rue Bagot, forced removal was attempted, but the soldiers met with a hail of rocks. A few mates and I were on Rue Saint Sauveur. Some splintered the glass-light casings of the streetlamps, extinguishing them. In the Lower City, and in the dark and mist, the Ontario Cavalry Regiment raced down the street at full tilt. Soldiers jeered menacingly, ‘Come on you French S—s of B—s! We’ll trim you!’ After that, machine guns were used against the crowds. To hear what was transpiring, one could have mistaken the incident for a mass execution. Jails soon found thousands of citizens in them. Tens were wounded. Four unarmed, innocent civilians died. The youngest was fourteen. Quebec will never forgive the government for this.”