Lancashire Fusiliers in a trench
Lancashire Fusiliers in a trench
Blanche, Charles, and the five boys celebrated Easter of 1915 together at the Béthanie church, for the last time. Shortly after, Etienne and André left for Camp Niagara to undertake two months of training. It was while they were at the camp that Etienne received from McGill, in absentia, the gold medal and the diploma of Bachelor of Arts. After that, they would be going abroad to the Canadian Training Camp at Shorncliffe, Kent. Jean left for France, this time in uniform, on 11 May 1915, only six weeks later.
ETIENNE AND ANDRÉ’S FIRST LETTERS, written at the Shorncliffe Camp in England, started to arrive in early May. For Etienne, they would be at intervals of eight, ten, or fifteen days, right up to his return on 20 January 1919, which totals 116 letters during his forty-five-month absence. His letters were so lively, so fresh, so optimistic, so affectionate, so much the faithful image of this exceptionally gifted person. It’s important to remember, however, that, if the tone is fun, if the accent suggests the pleasant aspects of this military experience, it’s because of censorship, and also Etienne’s fear of alarming his parents. Like most of the other soldiers, he is silent about the horrors he has witnessed, and tries to talk about the more pleasant aspects of the war.—(BB)
Camp Niagara, 2 May 1915
My dear mother
We have arrived safely at this camp that seems quite nice, after a rather long but pleasant trip. Soon after our departure we laid down, André and Calder on a bench that is transformed into a deck chair, a little hard but okay, and for me on the wood of the upper bunk. We slept a fair amount, being woken up from time to time by cries like “keep them ’ands behind the seams of them trousers” ... imitating the sergeant major.
We were shocked on arrival in Toronto with the news of the Canadians’ huge losses in France. We left, with the band ahead of us, from the North Toronto station to the harbour. Two hours later our boat docks at Niagaraon-the-Lake. We have a round tent, 12 feet in diameter, with a wooden floor. We are six, each of us with a rubber sheet and a blanket. The first meal at the camp wasn’t too bad. Can you imagine that André bruised his hand while playing baseball, and won’t be able to use his gun for one or two days? Bad luck!
Etienne
Camp Niagara, May 1915
My dear parents
Here is the first letter that I am writing to you since my departure.
We are beginning our real military life. We have worked hard today demolishing all the tents that remained and were no longer useful. I am feeling very well, and Etienne is also.
André
IN EARLY MAY WE WERE AT HOME AT LES COLOMBETTES, and heard that the University boys were preparing to leave Canada. We began to prepare for our soldiers’ first leave, including the treats that we would give them. Then, towards the end of the month, we were disappointed to learn that they would not be given a leave, and that the train would bring them straight to the docks, where they would board immediately for England.
We had no choice but to accept, and at least pack the famous treats: the fresh strawberries with cream and sugar, cakes, biscuits, and chocolates were wrapped and brought to the harbour by the four of us (Jean had already left several weeks earlier). A tense wait, and then a whistle and a loud metallic rumble … it was the train, where minutes later groups of joyful and noisy khaki shapes flowed out. As soon as we recognized our first dear face, we wanted to jump into his arms! It wasn’t to be. Sentiments were not the order of the day. The soldiers lined up in several ranks, waiting for the order to climb the gangplank to the waiting steamship, which was already belching torrents of smoke. Then, breaking all the rules, the mothers, paying no attention to the instructions, broke through the ranks and hugged frantically their sons, and dumped their gifts at their feet. The soldiers, touched by the mothers’ emotion, explained that, regrettably, the order was official: furthermore the commanding officer was adamant that they were not allowed to take even the smallest parcel! The families were upset and left with their baskets, and the troops marched up the frail gangplank and were soon swallowed within the big ship.
Then, thoroughly upset by the horrible image of this hasty departure, and the sour feeling about the unnecessary provisions, one of the mothers went to hide behind a pile of crates to cry … and cry! All of a sudden, two muscled arms squeezed her from behind … it was André, who, having refused to comply, had mysteriously escaped to seek a last kiss and the famous baskets. “Please don’t cry, dear Mother, we will come back shortly. I will send you Etienne, via this same coal chute.” But the propellers began to spin, and soon, to the cries of the soldiers and the waving goodbyes of the assistants, the ship slipped away towards the blue waters of the St Lawrence.—(BB)
7 July 1915
My dear mother,
We arrived in Plymouth yesterday, Tuesday morning, with beautiful weather, after a relatively good crossing that would have been delicious in first class. But we can’t complain, as we had a good cabin, while the others were in horrible dormitories in the hold.
We took the train at about noon, and it was only around nine that we arrived at the completely debilitated Shorncliffe station. We are in a camp with wooden huts, quite spacious, and covered with galvanized tin. We each have a little wooden bed with a good mattress and two blankets. We eat our meals in the same hut. Every evening we receive our allotment of bread for the next day. The rest comes before each meal.
You can imagine how happy and surprised we were to see Jean arrive in our hut, all of a sudden, this morning. He’s in the same camp, a few paces away. In six weeks or two months, we must be ready to leave. Have we been given a good daily schedule? We get up at 5:30, gymnastics at 8, drill at 9, grenade throwing at 10, bayonet fighting at 11, from 2 to 5 marching and field operations. We dig trenches three times a week, and there are some night exercises from 7 to 10.
Apparently it’s not too difficult to get a promotion. I will therefore try.
Etienne
HAVING ARRIVED IN SHORNCLIFFE ON 8 JULY 1915, Etienne and André had only five weeks to enjoy the charm of the English countryside and the games of bowls before embarking to join their regiment at the Front.—(BB)
Shorncliffe, July 1915
My dear mother,
We had Saturday afternoon off, so we took the opportunity to go to Canterbury. At each turning, one runs into a war wounded who has returned from the war, and each one has a story to tell. The officers give us brief lectures when we are resting following a long and fast uphill run, with boots weighing ten pounds on each foot. They say that this war is the least strategic war in history.
We have refilled all the beautiful trenches that we sweated so hard to dig.
André
July 1915
At our return from Folkestone, yesterday evening, we were very surprised to find out that we should get ready to leave at 4 p.m. this afternoon. I presume that we will still stay several weeks in the rear before going to the Front, but everything seems to indicate that we will leave for France this afternoon. The only annoyance is that, of our six officers, only the two captains will leave with us. Officers who have had more experience will replace the others. Other than that, we are leaving all together and will become a complete company, as far as we know. I think that I told you that my request for a promotion has been sent to Ottawa.
Etienne
THE CANADIANS WERE SOON ON ACTIVE DUTY. The 1st Division was the first, and in late February 1915, each brigade, along with its field artillery and engineer, as well as its signal and service men, joined one of two British divisions for a week at the Front. The Canadians were allotted a section that was initially some fifteen kilometres south of Ypres, a few miles north of Armentières. The indoctrination was practical and thorough. The 1915 Battles of Ypres were in full swing.
The first Princess Patricias had landed in France at the end of December 1914, at about the same time as Canada’s First Contingent. The force included volunteers from across Canada, who had joined soon after the declaration of war. During the first three months of 1915, the Canadian Forces had served in the St Éloi sector, in the southern part of the Ypres Salient, where there were some particularly fierce battles. In May, the soldiers of the PPCLI distinguished themselves at the Battle of Bellewaarde Ridge. They managed to successfully defend the ridge against a massive attack by the Germans. However, at the conclusion, they were left with only four officers and 150 men, out of their initial strength of 550. The 1st University Company of the PPCLI Regiment was due to arrive shortly thereafter, and Etienne and André were there. They must have been apprehensive about the challenge that they were about to face.
THE 1ST UNIVERSITY COMPANY ARRIVED at Petit Moulin in the neighbourhood of Armentières, very near to Belgian Flanders. This humid and flat plain, which went right up to the shore of the English Channel, still had a certain charm during these summer days, before the war had completely disfigured it. The sails of windmills were still seen turning in the distant hazy horizon, bales of straw were lying near the large farms, shaded by hedges and large trees, while the chimneys of Armentières marked the huge industrial expanse of Flanders.
After the bloody days of Mont St Eloi, the Princess Pats regiment was reorganized, blending the fresh recruits with the old “grumps” of the permanent army. These old-timers loved to talk about their impressive feats to these naïve volunteers, who were eager to learn about the tricks of warfare.—(BB)
Rest Camp, 23 July 1915
My dear mother,
Here we get up at 7, then we have breakfast and tidy up for the 9 o’clock inspection. We then march for two or three hours. We are always followed by women with baskets, who try to sell us mediocre fruit and okay chocolates at crazy prices; it would seem that it’s their only source of income, and seeing the crowds of children who beg for pennies at the outskirts of the camp, it seems that the entire country is living off the English and Canadian soldiers.
In the afternoon there is often a cricket match. This afternoon it’s between the officers and subalterns and the men of our company. We have supper at 5 p.m. and we go to bed at 9, which gives us 10 hours of sleep, which we sometimes add to during the day. We need to catch up now, as we won’t be able to have as much in the trenches.
There are several changes in the Company since we left England. I think that I already told you that only two of our officers came with us: Captains Barclay and McDougall, as platoon commanders. The other two platoons are under the two lieutenants Martin and Stewart, who are in charge of the company. The other three have had experience at the Front. Stewart Forbes is now the sergeant of our platoon. He is certainly one of the best subalterns of the company, but he’s not very popular. Our section also has a new corporal, a big and strong student from Queen’s called Harvey, who will be damn good.
I forgot to tell you how surprised we were Wednesday afternoon to see Jean arrive. He had gotten a special leave from the colonel, and had been able to stay about an hour. He’s about 15 miles from here. It’s amusing that we were so close at Shorncliffe, and once again here.
Etienne
29 July 1915
My dear father,
Here we are finally at our regiment’s base, a few miles from the Front, and nothing reminds us that we are so close to the enemy lines, except for the German planes that venture above us, but at a great height, and the German bombs that we see explode as soon as our airplanes get close to the enemy batteries.
It was a long night spent in a pile of soldiers, with all their arms and baggage, in one of these vehicles that the good Vaudois call so appropriately, “bôites à cailloux.” We arrived at 6 in the morning at a small station, where we were asked to get out. Before they directed us to our new camping ground, we had the time to have a cup of coffee and toast at a farm a few yards from the station. A one-hour-and-a-half march with all our equipment brought us to a camp such as I had never seen. Instead of parallel lines of white tents with pointed roofs, there were a few wooden and canvas huts painted in the strangest way to mislead the enemy airplanes and some small shelters for two, made of rubberized canvas and branches. We are twenty-five in a low hut, about the size of the Les Colombettes living room. André preferred to build a shelter with his friend Stewart.
While the rest of our company were going to spend half the night digging reserve trenches, we, the new arrivals, went to bed, early, to rest from the previous night. This morning we had an inspection from the regimental colonel, and this afternoon was again free. We went to the river a few paces from here to take a good bath. You will be reassured that we are in an area little exposed to the Front. The trenches are said to be spacious, healthy, and well maintained, and don’t suffer from enemy artillery fire. We will do seven-day shifts in the front lines, fourteen days in reserve, then we will return for seven days at the base.
Etienne
THE BOYS’ SITUATION BECAME much more serious: camouflaged huts, thorough inspections, enemy airplanes, exploding shells and bombs. They were in fact not very far from the action. Trench warfare required many activities: pails of sand to fill, trenches to dig, night guards to be set up. The best moment was when the mail arrived, especially if a good letter was accompanied by some tasty parcels. They enjoyed cooking the contents with groups of friends, as a change from the daily rations. Water often needed to be pumped from a far-away abandoned farm, and the wood, including broken fence posts, old boxes, etc., was picked up as best they could! It was fortunate that this part of Armentières was fairly quiet and that the countryside became idyllic only a few miles from the trenches: the setting sun would light up the old farms, the young poplars turned golden, and the wheat fields were illuminated with rays of sunlight.—(BB)
Petit Moulin Armentières, 30 July 1915
My dear Philippe,
We are resting this evening watching the airplanes being shot at by antiaircraft guns, both German and British. It’s very exciting. Apparently the planes are not often hit.
What we call the base is the camp of the PPCLI or a field with a few huts made by the soldiers from rubber sheets and all kinds of branches of every description. The officers have the Bell tents, all smeared with paint to render them invisible for the airplanes. Another guy and I have made a tent with our two rubber sheets, and we have had the good luck of finding a blanket.
This afternoon we went swimming in a river a few steps away from the camp. There’s a springboard made from all the odds and ends possible and imaginable. It seems funny to be swimming with the sound of the guns and watched vigilantly by an observation balloon.
André
IT WAS PERHAPS FITTING that Jean, the eldest of the five boys, was the first to arrive in France. In his case, his stay in England was very brief, and he and his colleagues wasted no time to begin to set up temporary hospital facilities on the shores of the Channel. The ambulance, I should say McGill’s hospital, officially called the No. 3 Canadian General Hospital, was initially camped in tents and quite basic barracks at Camiers, near Boulogne. Jean, particularly in the beginning, had to accept living conditions that were far from comfortable, and often within a tent on two blankets laid on the ground. He was initially an assistant in the registrar’s office.—(BB)
YMCA, Field Branch NO. 3 General Hospital (McGill) Canadian Expeditionary Force 22 June 1915
My dear parents,
Having left Southampton on the 17th, we arrived here last Saturday. We then travelled all night on a cattle boat that brought us to a port in Northern France, very early the following morning. We were well escorted, so that there were no concerns about submarines. We had to sleep on deck, but as it wasn’t cold, we didn’t suffer.
As the boat was quite slow it was only early the following day that we landed. After the disembarking of the five hundred horses that we had on board, we began to unload our cars, food supplies, comfortable beds, tents, etc. There was a well-organized group of cranes, which loaded our open vans directly. The ambulances were waiting to transport us to the high ground behind the town, where a rest camp for the soldiers coming to and from the Front was located. The next morning, the train took us to an unknown destination. After a forty-minute trip on the train/bus, we arrived at a station located between two tiny French villages. It was a typical coastal countryside, with few trees and numerous hills between the sea and the sand dunes. We were ordered to immediately unload the twenty vans filled with all our equipment. The Army Service Corp. from a nearby base had given us a dozen huge cars, so that the job was quickly completed. I think that we were all disappointed to see that we weren’t the only hospital in the area. Four other hospitals are in the process of being established here, and we are only separated by the width of the many roads that criss-cross our huge camp. There is only one that is ready to receive the wounded; the others will be opened in due course. Obviously, this arrangement has also certain big advantages; we will soon have water just about everywhere, and electricity will also be connected in the near future. The YMCA is building a huge wooden barrack, and the canteen is well-furnished with all sorts of equipment. Our camp is on a slight slope descending towards the railway. Since the beginning of the week we have moved into our permanent tents. My mates are very pleasant, including: Henry Fry, one of my classmates, Elder, the trumpet player, and Rankin, one of the office employees.
In total, we will have about two hundred tents, and the hospital wards will contain twenty beds. The only buildings are the kitchens, the operating rooms, and the showers. The camp is square, with the hospital in the centre, offices to the west, nurses, soldiers, and junior officers to the south, and, to the north, soldiers that have been sent back from the Front to do the heavy work.
I don’t think that my French is very useful, as the wounded are now carefully sorted before being sent to the various hospitals.
Jean
MEANWHILE, BACK AT HOME, the twelve months that elapsed from March 1915 to March 1916 marked an especially rich and emotional period. At the moment that the war eliminated the moral support of the eldest boys, God gave us Philippe, and soon Jacques, a wonderful compensation: two real friends, sharing our worries and doubling all our joy. Philippe was transformed. It was like a return to all the charming qualities of his childhood, with, on top of it, a nice virility, a new sense of helpfulness, and a mysterious depth. The family chores included looking after the two boys, and Camille Chazeaud, who was also often there, as well as mailing the overseas parcels. Philippe’s presence helped to make it happen. With him, our large house, despite all its empty places, didn’t seem too gloomy, but it was at La Clairière, which we all loved so much, that he particularly displayed his ingenuity and his energy. Our cavalier’s role as service engineer wasn’t restricted to home. He was in charge of delivering all the messages to those who lived around the lake, as the war had eliminated the mothers’ usual messengers. His boat was in constant use, free of charge, as postal van, taxi to the train station, delivery boat, or church carriage. He did all that, even the hauling of the weeds from our vegetable garden, with a smile.
Philippe was starting his second year at McGill in the Faculty of Commerce, and became deeply involved in the traditional student initiations. At one point they did a mock battle in the Mount Royal woods. It was a fun story to describe to our boys, who were fighting the real war, and their laughter could be heard across the ocean! Jacques was also growing up, and became quite adept at the various trades required at La Clairière. He and Philippe had engineered the water installation there, a useful initiation into his future profession.
But it was wartime, which was difficult at the beginning and strange and uncertain as the years progressed. We were threatened once again with Philippe’s approaching departure. I tried to console myself by cutting fabric and rolling bandages in the Red Cross rooms at McGill, but that wasn’t enough to satisfy my emotions. I needed more and better activity than that. I eventually was to find it with my war relief activity.
For your father, it was a constantly changing scene. The house was depopulated, but so were the classes at the college. He would have risked remaining idle if the sudden death of Principal Scrimger hadn’t abruptly changed his position. Professor Fraser became interim principal of the Presbyterian College, and a year later, principal. They asked your father to replace him as registrar, and this function put him in a close and constant relationship with all the students of the college, English as well as French.—(BB)
