Fighting the Hun from saddle and trench

Front matter

Class J

Book.

Copyrights

Contents

Chapter

A Volunteer _ I

Enlistment _ II

CHAPTER I "Why should I war without the walls of Troy? "

— Shakespeare

HY! Why are so many men ever ready at the sound of bugle and beat of drum to drop peaceful pursuits, forsake home and family and the association of old friends, to meet the dangers and discomforts attendant in a war upon their fellow beings?

That love of country and devotion to its peace and welfare, called "Patriotism," actuates one's conduct, and should, at a time when its security or honor is at stake. Then men should, and do, actuated by such feeling, forsake home and loved one's and all else to serve their country. Men will also take up arms against their fellows when the safety and honor of home and family is endangered. That, also, is but natural, but why did I, and why do others, not imbued at the time with such feelings nor confronted with such calamity, take up arms and go to war? It must simply be to satisfy a desire or a feeling for adventure and excitement.

In the year of the outbreak of the pending world conflict, neither Scotland, the land of my birth, nor America, the country of my home, were seriously endangered, at least I entertained no such feeling, and neither was there even a remote possibility of home or family being attacked or injured, and surely at that time, our present enemy had not offended me personally, by word or act, so why should I have desired to "war without the walls of Troy?"

I have but one answer, so I must confess, I fear, that the motive which took me into the conflict was none other than that inspired by love for adventure, and I am willing to admit that I was at the time one of the class of whom Macaulay said: "He loved excitement and adventure." So I forsook home and its comforts to enter what has proved, to my satisfaction, to be a noble service, a service in the interest of the life and freedom of the civilized people of the world, — a war for humanity, and nothing less.

Historians will in the future write of this war, but they can only give statistics, record dates and events. They can never portray the feelings of the men engaged, the spirit that impelled duty, the anguish and suffering of those engaged in doing their bit to make the world fit for life. They can tnever know of nor give proper credit to, the countless heroes who have given up and will give up their life for the cause. This part of the war's history can only be told by the men who too have fought, and have survived to tell the story, through speech and pen, and then it cannot be and never will be fully portrayed to the mind or heart of those who hear and read.

My purpose in writing something of my part and experiences, and that of my brave comrades, in this Titanic conflict, is to add my bit to the literature, if this may be called such, of the war, and to record something of the history that is now being made, and in doing so shall relate facts truthfully, and

nothing but actual facts, and so I now relate:

"Don't be a fool, Billy! Why, this war won't last more than three months. Why throw up a good position for the sake of trying to kill a few Huns ?" Such was the advice volunteered and the question asked by one of my friends in August, 1914, when I suggested to him my thought of enlisting for service against the Germans in the war just started.

To this well intended but, to my way of thinking, ridiculous advice and foolish caution, I replied: "Don't talk so foolishly. Why this war will last for a year at any rate, and I, for one, am going to take a chance of getting over there and into it and seeing the fun." My friend thereupon pronounced me a "bigger fool" than he had ever before thought me. I replied to this compliment by saying, "Oh, yes, Roy, you may not be far wrong, and in fact you may be quite right in your opinion of me, for I guess, after all, I am all kinds of a fool, but it strikes me also that this is a fool's war, and if I am what you declare me I should be just the one to make good in it."

It took me about a week, after this conversation, to make up my mind fully on the subject, but the afternoon of September 9th found me in the office of Mr. Lockrow, my employer. I had received and had in my possession at the time, a letter from a good friend then enlisted in the regular forces of the Canadian army, and it was this letter that persuaded me to end my career for the time as a railroad employee in the freight service of the New York Central Railroad Company at Amsterdam, New York, and get into the fray.

The letter advised me that if I wanted to see action now was the time. "Come on, Bill," he wrote. "Just the thing you'll like. I'll be expecting you soon, so get a move on, for we leave Canada any day now for France."

"Well, Mr. Lockrow, I'm going." Thus I informed my employer after having decided to enlist. "Going where, Bill?" he asked. "To France to fight," I replied. "Do you mean it?" said he. I replied I was never more serious on a matter before in my life. He immediately struck me as a good sport, when he said, "Well, Bill, if you have so decided, then good bye. I hope you make good and come back all right."

"Oh, I'll come back; I have no fear about that, for they can't kill me," I answered.

Eleven-thirty that night saw me at the railroad station accompanied by my wife and Uncle Roy Loder, who came with me to see me safely started and to bid me good bye.

I felt that they did not seriously believe the parting was to be for long. I am sure they expected me to lose some of the enthusiasm once I was away and that I would be back home in two weeks or less. Little did they know or did I then realize that three years and a half would elapse before we saw one another again.

I can remember the night of my departure well, looking back now after the lapse of those long, somewhat weary and troublesome years. I wonder, if I had really known that night what was to confront me, what hardships and dangers I was to suffer and face, would I have had the nerve or the courage to go. I feel now if, while Waiting for my train, the future could have been revealed to me I should have turned back before the departure of the train. I was blissfully ignorant, however, and so I kissed my wife good bye, said farewell to my uncle and told him to look well after Billy, Jr., my little son of thirteen months, and jumped aboard. The train was now leaving the station and I was being carried away With little serious thought of what the future held in store for me. 3

I was not on the train long before I fell asleep and when I awoke it was morning and I found myself in Montreal. There, upon inquiry, I was informed I should have to proceed to Quebec, and thence to Valcatier Camp. Everyone else seemed to be going the one way — to Valcatier — and the one thought in the mind of all was — War.

I reached Quebec about eight o'clock that night and went at once to a rooming house and engaged a room. The following morning saw me up, bright and early, and on my way to Valcatier, not even stopping for breakfast.

As the train came within sight of the camp I had my first great surprise and my first real serious thought of what was likely before me — War. The train passed on through miles and miles of tents, it seemed. The sun was shining and the great white city spread out before me populated with men only, was surely a wonderful and impressive sight.

All was activity. Everyone was busy. Wooden houses were being built, roads constructed and everything being done to provide a place to receive and quarter the soldiers. The impression this scene made caused me to remark to myself, "I guess I am in for some fun, all right, for all this bustle and preparation means the war must last for a year anyway."

The train at last reached its destination and all were ordered out. I was now at a loss as to which way to turn or to whom to report. After a moment's thought I decided first to find my friend, Bill Tamlyn, of the Royal Canadian Dragoons. In this I had less trouble than I expected.

I was directed, upon inquiry, to the place where his regiment was located, and further inquiry sent me to the sergeant's mess, where I found him working. (Bill was never any fool, and so could be counted on to know where one could live well, and I was not surprised to find he had managed to attach himself to this department.)

I said I found him working, which was true, but at the time wholly in his own personal interest, for he was busy making away with sliced tomatoes, French fried potatoes and cold meat in the way only a healthy, hungry man could eat. I could not at first disturb him in this enjoyable as well as necessary occupation, and so stood for a moment, unobserved, watching him. Finally I said, "Hello, Bill." He looked up and immediately a smile lit up his face, and when he fully realized it was I, he gave one yell and made a jump, unsetting the table in his excitement, and there we were, hugging each other lfke two silly school girls.

When he could speak he said, "You sure are a sight for sore eyes." I returned the compliment, said I was glad to be there, answered all his questions, sensible and foolish, and the.n was reminded by my stomach that I had not yet had my breakfast, so I remarked that I was pretty hungry.

"'Nough said." I was immediately seated and soon satisfying my hunger. How I did enjoy that breakfast, and I am able to say yet, that no more enjoyable meal was ever eaten by two happier persons than was that first breakfast Bill and myself partook of that morning at Valcatier Camp.

During that meal we talked of the future and passed a pledge to stick to each other through thick and thin in whatever might lie before us. So strong was our friendship then and since that that vow has been religiously kept. Together we have been through all that I shall relate here. I shall always thank God for having had such a faithful pal through the many days we have lived since that first breakfast together at Valcatier.

Chapter II

There was born at Valcatier a new family — all brothers,

Pledged to serve humanity;

To give their lives, if need be, — for others.

Y RECORD for quick enlistment, I believe, stands out as one of the finest things in all my career as a soldier. Something of my feeling in that connection is displayed in a letter written to my uncle immediately upon my entry into the service.

"Valcatier Camp, Quebec Prov. 9—12—14 "Dear Old Roy:

"I arrived safe in camp and hold the record for quick enlistment. In about five minutes I was a soldier of H. R, M. King George V., of Great Britain and Ireland.

"Well, old man, you can see by the heading of my letter that I am in for some fighting. If we get there our machine guns can fire seven hundred bullets per minute — going some, eh? Well, that's us.

I think we leave Tuesday for the front, I hope so, anyway.

"Say, it's great up here. Nothing but tents and men. I can hear the boys over in the Y. M. C. A. tent singing Throw Out the Life Line.' That's what they are singing now. Over 30,000 men and 60,000 horses and not a drunk among the men. No 'booze' in camp. Everybody happy, except those who didn't pass the medical examination.

"Well, I am pretty tired. When you go to bed to-night just think of me with my two blankets and waterproof sheet and sleeping on the ground.

"Tell Frank I tried to develop that Charley horse but without success. Give my regards to the boys and tell them I will try and send then all a P. C. In the meantime they might send me one.

"I am getting more money than I expected, $9.75 per week. That is the inducement for entering the machine gun corps. You know if we can fire seven hundred bullets per minute we will be able to do some execution, and we are the first the enemy wants to put out of action.

"Well, so long, old boy. Don't forget to keep your eye on Billy. I hope I come back if God spares me. Regards to them all. I remain,

"Yours,

"BILL."

I have been asked if I ever felt homesick. I can honestly say, in reply, that I was ever too busy to really feel anything of that nature, for long, at least. While in camp I never had a sleepless night. After the day's excitement of breaking horses, learning to ride, fixing saddlery, getting clothing, etc., and when the parades were over and our work finished we would gather around a fire and talk of the future, the subject of conversation always being war, war.

We of the machine gun corps felt that our branch of the service was to be the most important of all, and we felt to be called a "M. G. man," was equivalent to saying "one of God's chosen in the service." As we talked of ourselves and the part we were to play in the great war game, we would frequently picture ourselves holding, against fearful odds, some important position, and at times we would become serious and sentimental and in this mood we would picture the possible casualties among the men of our corps. More than once have I seen tears roll down the cheeks of some strong man when, with such thoughts in his mind, he spoke of his home in some far off part of Canada.

We met as strangers but were friends and true comrades from the first. The spirit born at Valcatier Camp held good on foreign soil. We were really brothers now, and this feeling of unity had much to do with the courage and faith displayed by the men in holding the Huns back from Calais and at the second battle of Ypres in April, 1915.

The men of the camp came from all classes and all walks of life. There were college men, professional men, lumbermen, and laboring men of every description. Geographically they came from the furthermost northern, western and central parts of Canada and elsewhere. In this connection I cannot help recalling and repeating the words of Kipling —

"Oh East is East and West is West; And never the twain shall meet, Till earth and sky stand presently

At God's great judgment seat.

But there is neither East nor West, Border nor Breed nor Breath, When two strong men stand face to face,

Though they come from the ends of the earth."

Those days at Valcatier were happy days. We were full of life and keen for excitement and adventure, but little did we realize then how fully our desires and hopes were to be fulfilled.

We left Canada full of the joy of living and the soul bubbling over with excitement. We of that first Canadian contingent, of whom I particularly speak, who have seen all the horrors of war and yet live, have learned much, and today are wiser men with something of that boyish joy of living crushed out, and in its place there is a serious thought of life and a feeling of satisfaction that we have accomplished something worth while, and with it a feeling of thankfulness that we have been spared and are yet able and strong enough to continue to perform the duty of helping rid the world of the great menace that threatened us from the first and which still exists.

We were anxious from the first to get over seas and were ever inquiring when we were to leave camp. Rumors were ever prevalent in this connection, mostly rumors they proved to be, to our disappointment.

"When do we leave for the front?"

"Well, I heard from pretty good authority that we leave tomorrow. Now you know George Gill, Colonel Nellis' batman?" (batman is an officer's body servant) "Well, he heard Sam Hughes tell the colonel that we were moving shortly," et cetera.

Such is an illustration of the many rumors that were about, and we believed them all. We were so anxious for action those days we believed anything that we wanted to believe of that nature, and consequently every rumor of orders to move was accepted as a fact.

While we worked hard at Valcatier, yet it was not all work, for we lacked no amount of amusement as well. The Y. M. C. A. provided certain recreation rooms, provided writing material, conducted moving picture entertainments, etc. There was also about the usual camp followers with their various forms of entertainment and schemes to get what loose change the boys possessed. In this connection I will cite the case of a far-seeing and 4 ambitious youth possessed with more business ambition than patriotism, i"rr instead of coming to camp as a volunteer, he brought to it a moving picture establishment, which he set up for business, charging the boys an admission fee of ten cents.

He showed a very poor class of pictures and, worst of all, short changed the boys whenever possible. I will not dwell long on the career of this fakir's enterprise, beyond saying that on a certain night some of the boys held a ' 'council of war," at which it was unanimously decided this fellow had to go out of business and quit camp.

Plans were outlined to carry out this decision, and the rapidity with which news of the contemplated action spread from one part of the camp to the other would have surprised a good advertising manager.

The time for action was fixed and that evening a large party assembled about the show tent and began a dance. Certain men were detailed to cut, at a given signal, the guy ropes. No plan was ever more expeditiously carried out. At the signal a shout went up and down came the tent upon the head of the proprietor. Smoke at once arose and soon the tent and entire establishment was a sheet of flames with the boys dancing about in the wildest sort of a war dance imaginable.

The ending of the show enterprise in this spectacular fashion gave the boys more real entertainment during the half hour it lasted than it had given during its entire existence in camp.

The good result of this lawless act on the part of the boys was far more reaching than they had figured, for what little money the manager possessed he had invested in the equipment, and when he found himself "broke," he concluded the only thing left for him to do was to join the army, which he did.

We later learned he had been detailed to be a cook, and if all reports of his conduct in! that capacity be true, he had the satisfaction of getting revenge to the limit upon some of the participants in that night's affair. I congratulated myself, on that account at least, that he did not become a member of the outfit to which I belonged.

Chapter III

When in a country free, comes a call — "To Arms!" It is to war in defense against a common foe.

'Tis a Nation's cry for help, a call which alarms And sends all loyal men "where duty leads" — to go.

T LAST, orders, for which we had been looking", came.

Hughes and the Governor General of thirty. Inspection by General Sam "Drill order tomorrow morning — nine- "You will parade mounted."

Canada/'

Such were the orders preparatory to plans for over seas. Nine-thirty the following morning saw us formed for inspection. It was the first time that I had the pleasure of seeing the men of the regiment all together and of forming an opinion as to the kind of an outfit, as a whole, I had the honor of being connected with.

As I glanced along the line that morning it was my opinion that I had never before seen such a fine looking body of men. Every man five-foot-six, or over, and mounted on the finest horses Canada could produce. The sight to my eyes was wonderful and inspiring, and I felt I was the proudest boy in the whole of Canada. I still hold the opinion that look where you will, you can never find a like number of finer or more soldierly looking boys than made Up that first Canadian contingent to which I found myself attached.

We were formally inspected by General Hughes, who took occasion to pay us a glowing tribute, saying, among other things : "I am glad to have such a body of men for us instead of against us."

After the inspection was over we listened to a most stirring and patriotic address by General Hughes. The address so impressed me that I deem it worthy and proper to put it in print in connection with this part of my story. The subject of his address was, "Where duty leads."

"Fellow Soldiers I Six weeks ago, when the call came To Arms!' inspired by that love of freedom from tyranny dominant in the British race, actuated by the knowledge that under British constitutional responsible government, you enjoyed the utmost of human liberty, you loyally and promptly responded in overwhelming numbers to that call.

"Twenty-two thousand men were accepted by the Motherland. Today upwards of thirty-three thousand are en route to do duty on the historic fields of France, Belgium and Germany for the preservation of the British Empire and the rights and liberties of humanity.

"Lust of power, the subjugation of inoffensive and law-abiding neighbors, autocratic aggrandizement, have caused this war. In its cause the allies are guiltless.

"Belgium and Holland have long excited Prussian ambition for ownership. Austria has desired extension towards the Euxine and JEgean seas — insane lust of conquest bringing ruin, rapine and misery in the train.

"It has long been predicted that when the Kiel canal would be completed Germany would begin the long-dreaded war. The Kiel canal was completed early in July. War was begun before the end of that month. Germany was found absolutely ready and waiting. Great Britain, Belgium and France were unprepared. Three weeks elapsed before the regular armies of .the latter countries could take the field.

"Soldiers! The world regards you as a marvel. Within six weeks you were at your homes, peaceful Canadian citizens. Since then your training camp has been secured; three and a half miles of rifle ranges — twice as long as any other in the world — were constructed; fences were removed; water of the purest quality was laid in miles of pipes ; drainage was perfected ; electric light was installed ; crops were harvested; roads and bridges were built; ordnance and army service corps buildings were erected; railway sidings were laid down; woods cleared; sanitation was perfected so that illness was practically unknown, and thirty-three thousand men were assembled from points, some of them upwards of four thousand miles apart. You have been perfected in rifle shooting and today are as fine a body —officers and men— as ever faced a foe. The same spirit as accomplished that great work is what you will display on the war fields of Europe. There will be no faltering, no temporizing. The work must be done. The task before us six weeks ago seemed Herculean — but it has been successfully accomplished. So following the same indomitable spirit, you will triumph over the common enemy of humanity.

"That you will render a splendid account of yourselves for king and country is certain. You come of the right breed— English, Scotch, Irish, French, Welch, German and American — your courage and steadfastness are proverbial. In South Africa your presence was a guarantee of success. So in this most righteous struggle on the part of Britain. When side by side with soldiers from the Motherland stand the freemen from the Dominion beyond the seas; when Australians, New Zealanders, South Africans, Hindus, New Foundlanders and Canadians tread the soil of Europe, then will the Prussian autocracy realize the gigantic power of liberty.

"And amid it all you will never forget that you war not on the innocent and lovely people of Germany. Your aim is the overthrow of tyranny and aggrandizement.

"Every man among you is a free will volunteer. Not one has been invited. No more typical army of free men ever marched to meet an enemy.

"Soldiers! Behind you are loved ones, home, country, with all the traditions of liberty and loyalty; love of king and constitution. You bid adieu to those near and dear to you. You sing —

"I go then, sweet lass, to win honor and fame, And if I should chance to come gloriously hame I'll bring a heart to thee with love running o'er, And then I'll leave thee and the homeland no more.

"That you will so bear yourselves, individually and collectively, wherever duty may call you, as to win the respect of the foe in the field; the admiration and regard of the good citizens of all lands in which your lot may be cast; and the love and regard of those near and dear at home, is the conviction of all Canadians.

"And when with years and honor crowned, You sit some homeward hearth around And hear no more the stirring sound

That spoke the trumpet's warning, You'll sing and give one hip, hurrah! And pledge the memory of the day When to do and dare you all were there

And met the foe in the morning.

"Some may not return— and pray God they be few. For such, not only will their memory ever be cherished by loved ones near and dear, and by a grateful country; but throughout the ages freemen of all lands will revere and honor the heroes who sacrificed themselves in preserving unimpaired the priceless gem of Liberty. But the soldier going down in the cause of freedom never dies— immortality is his. What recks he whether his resting place may be bedecked with the golden lilies of France or amid the vine clad hills of the Rhine. The principles for which you strive are eternal.

"May success ever attend you, and when you return rest assured a crowning triumph will await you."

Off to Quebec, hurrah! Orders were to leave the following morning at five o'clock.

Promptly at the hour of five, to the minute, saddles were packed and we commenced the ride of seventeen miles to the old city of Quebec.

As we rode out of camp bands were playing, caps were raised and waved, and such expressions were heard from men remaining behind, as

"I'D see you over there, Bill." "Give them hell." "Get off his neck, who told you you could ride?" "Get off and get inside." "Where did you get that skate?" etc.

Oh, gee! But breaking camp and this departure was exciting and filled each one of us with enthu- 5 siasm and unbounded happiness. Such were our spirits as we rode from camp leaving behind the comrades who jestingly and in the spirit of comradeship, as well, had bid us adieu.

We rode about ten miles and then stopped to water and feed the horses. We found everything prepared for us and was soon on our way again.

We rode through lower Quebec about one P. M. that day. I can see it now. Flags were waving people cheering, laughing and crying, and waving handkerchiefs, flags and caps. Kisses were wafted to us from windows, flowers showered upon us, and those who could do so, ran along by our sides seeking an opportunity to grasp our hands and bid us a good bye and Godspeed.

I, for one, certainly felt giddy and already quite like a hero, and so expanded my chest and sat well in my saddle looking straight to the front, trying as best I could to create the impression that all this was with me an everyday occurrence.

"Bon voyage" kept ringing in our ears as we rode through the streets.

Arriving at the docks the loading of the horses began at once, and some job it truly was, I assure you. One horse at a time was placed in a wooden cage and then hoisted with rope and tackle up and onto the deck. It was necessary to blindfold some of the horses, and others had to be shackled to manage them, and while the job lasted it was both interesting and exciting.

In connection with the handling of the horses one of the boys had rather an exciting experience for himself and one that was amusing as well to the rest of us, and it happened in this way.