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FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE TO THE YSER

_Frontispiece._

[Illustration: LIEUTS. KLOTZ, STRATHY AND CURRY AT AMESBURY.]




FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE
TO THE YSER

WITH THE 1st CANADIAN BRIGADE

BY

FREDERIC C. CURRY

LATE CAPTAIN 2ND EASTERN ONTARIO REGIMENT

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS AND MAPS

McCLELLAND, GOODCHILD & STEWART,

PUBLISHERS... TORONTO.




_Printed in Great Britain._




To

LIEUT.-GENERAL SIR SAM HUGHES,

K.C.B., M.P., MINISTER OF MILITIA,

TO WHOSE EFFORTS

THE EFFICIENCY OF THE CANADIAN CONTINGENTS

IS LARGELY DUE.




PREFACE


In presenting this little work to the public the writer wishes to thank
those of his fellow-officers and others who brought to his notice
incidents that did not come under his personal observation.

Valuable assistance has been gained from the official accounts of Sir
Max Aitken, and from the historical writings of Mr. John Buchan with
regard to the parts played by other brigades and divisions with which we
were co-operating.

In spite of these attempts to broaden its outlook, the book stands in
the main a personal account of the actions of the 1st Brigade, Canadian
Infantry.

As such, however, the writer hopes it will be accepted, and not as a
detailed history of the events chronicled, though every attempt has been
made to check the accuracy of the facts stated.

One fictitious character has been introduced, that of Begbie Lyte, in
order to make the tale impersonal.

In all other cases the true names of persons mentioned, or initials,
have been used.

To Dr. Shipley, Master of Christ's College, Cambridge, the writer owes
much for his kindly criticisms and encouragement in this work.

F.C. CURRY.

_October, 1916._




CONTENTS


CHAP.                              PAGE

I. ANTE-BELLUM                      1

II. PETEWAWA                       11

III. MOBILISATION                  24

IV. VAL CARTIER                    31

V. THE CONVOY                      37

VI. IN ENGLAND                     44

VII. INTERIM                       49

VIII. YPRES, 1915                  54

IX. WITH THE DRAFT                 63

X. THE BREAKING IN                 72

XI. RESERVE BILLETS                80

XII. BAILLEUL                      88

XIII. THE TREK SOUTH               95

XIV. FESTUBERT, 1915              103

XV. CARPE DIEM                    110

XVI. GIVENCHY, 1915               117

XVII. NORTHWARD AGAIN             126

XVIII. NIGHTS OF GLADNESS!        132

XIX. IN FRONT OF MESSINES         140

XX. MINE WARFARE                  145

XXI. MYTHS, FAIRIES, ETC.         152

XXII. THE WINTER MONTHS           160




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


LIEUTS. KLOTZ, STRATHY AND CURRY AT AMESBURY         _Frontispiece_

                                                     _Facing page_

SAILING DOWN THE ST. LAWRENCE, NEAR BIC                  38

CHURCH PARADE                                            40

EASTERN ONTARIO REGIMENT, NEAR STONEHENGE                44

MANOEUVRES ON SALISBURY PLAIN                            48

FIELD KITCHEN IN RESERVE BILLETS                         82

AMATEUR THEATRICALS BACK OF THE LINE                    100

THE DISTILLERY AT GIVENCHY                              118

OUR SUPPORT TRENCHES AT GIVENCHY                        120

AFTER GIVENCHY                                          122

ENTRANCE TO PLUGSTREET WOOD                             130

OUR TRENCHES, PLUGSTREET WOOD                           134

OUR TRENCHES AT PLUGSTREET                              136

THE START OF THE SMOKE CLOUDS                           142

THE CACTUS TREEN                                        157

AFTER A FEW SHELLS AND A WEEK'S RAIN                    160




FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE TO THE YSER




CHAPTER I

ANTE-BELLUM


Before the war the Canadian Militia consisted of about 75,000 of all
ranks and all grades of efficiency. To a neutral eye it must have
appeared to be in a highly disorganised condition, for battalions and
corps had sprung up here and there throughout the country with no
proportion existing between them and the other arms of the service. And
yet within a short two months after the outbreak of hostilities a
complete division, armed and equipped, landed in England, and in a bare
six months were in the field holding their own line of trenches.

To appreciate the difficulties, however, that attended this
transformation we must look back to those happy days prior to August,
1914, and witness the Canadian Militia in its own home.

This consisted of the "Drill-hall," or "Armouries," a long, low building
equipped more or less with barred windows and castellated turrets at one
or more corners. This building is one of the sights of the city, and is
pointed out by the cabby or taxi-driver to the English gentlemen and
other tourists who come out with the laudable intention of writing
books.

If the castellated towers are missing, and the building is constructed
on strictly utilitarian lines, one is safe in referring to it as the
"Drill-hall"; but if a couple of old cannon, vintage 1800, guard its
portals, and barred windows and frowning turrets add to its martial
splendour, then you have an "Armouries." By observing this simple rule
one can discriminate between the two as easily as telling a church from
a cathedral.

The existence of such a building is largely due to the efforts of the
local member of Parliament, and the style of architecture varies
directly with the square of his popularity with the party in power. Thus
a flourishing full-strength battalion may be housed in a dingy, drab
wooden structure, and in the next town a very ornate and modern
building may be tenanted by a corps that is only struggling for
existence, or perhaps not even struggling. It is well, however, to
refrain from too much criticism of these buildings, pretentious and
hideous as they may be, for in them are taught the ideals and principles
which so many of our youth have died to uphold in the rain-sodden fields
of Flanders.

Considering the shortness of what is locally known as the "drill
season," the results obtained are good. General French, in his report of
a few years ago, described our horses as "half-broken and our men but
little more," but that is only to be expected in a country where a man
is considered to be wasting his time if he devotes even the little that
he can ill afford to the military profession.

However, even if the half-broken men and horses do kick over the traces
once in a while, they eventually "get there," and that, after all, is
the Canadian doctrine.

For the purposes of training the Militia is divided into two
classes--the "city" and the "rural" corps. There is also the permanent
force, our Canadian regulars, who exist as a school for "the Militia,"
as they refer to the non-professional army.

The city corps consist chiefly of infantry, heavy artillery, and
engineer corps, the last being generally in university towns and either
affiliated with or being actually the cadet corps of the college. One
might think the cadet corps would be affiliated with the Militia, but
this is a case where the boy is father to the man.

City corps do fourteen nominal days' training a year in the drill-hall,
and, of late years, a voluntary camp of five days. For each of these
days two night drills of two hours each count as a day; the militiaman
receives the sum of four shillings, with a slight increase according to
his musketry ability.

The drill season commences in the middle of March, and from then on till
Inspection Day--a boiling hot day in June--the voice of the
drill-sergeant is heard in the land. This individual is obtained on
indent from the permanent force; but more of him anon.

For two nights a week, then, at the season when a young man's fancies
are supposed to turn lightly to other things, the would-be Wellington
dons a suit of rifle green, or scarlet, or even the heathen kilt,
according to his taste, and, disguising it with a civilian great coat
(regulation coats being issued to 50 per cent. of the establishment),
slinks more or less bashfully down the back way to the drill-hall. There
he will learn to shift a rifle (weight nine pounds five and a few odd
ounces) from one position to another in response to quite unintelligible
commands that echo most absurdly from the roof. He will also learn to
move around the floor in something like the formations laid down in the
little red manual, practising especially those for whom our prayers are
desired, the favourites of the General Officer Commanding his district.

For, though regulations wax and wane, the G.O.C. changeth not; neither
does he bow down and worship the little tin gods the Army Council set
up. But instead, as one by one the formations he used to know are culled
from the manual, he watches the new formations with a passive eye and
reserves his choleric criticisms for the old reliables' "Echelon to the
right" and that maximum of military perfection the "March Past."

In rural corps, however, the season consists of fourteen actual days
spent in the broiling sun in camp. Lucky indeed is the company commander
who can bring a full company every year to camp, for many who come one
year come not again, and such are the conditions that no man sayeth him
nay lest recruiting be stopped altogether in that district. One sighs
for the press gang of Merrie England and subscribes for such incendiary
journals as those of the various National Service Leagues, for one has a
limited area to secure the recruits from, and must recruit at least 60
per cent. each year at a season when farm labour is at a premium.

Having secured your recruits, you must assemble them at some central
point where you have a large quantity of arms and equipment stored,
generally at your own expense--though "Sam" Hughes is remedying
this--and issue these, stave off complaints that the fit is not exactly
up to West End standards, and, if you are an old "stager," give them an
hour or two of drill while enthusiasm is at its maximum.

Then on the required date you marshal your little force at the railway
station, shepherd them into the cars, and detrain them a few hours
later, under even more trying circumstances, a few miles from camp.
Then, with a mixture of patience, perspiration, and profanity, you
finally march into your line of tents. Here you are met with great glee
by the colonel and the adjutant, who inquire blithely as to how many men
you have; this may seem useless, but as the men are strung out for at
least half a mile along the route it is reassuring to learn how many
there should be in the little procession.

We will take it that the colonel is pleased with your reply, in which
case he will tell you that his white horse has arrived, so if you will
drop around... prohibition rules in our training camps, but a good O.C.
has always something under the mat.

What follows in the remaining days of the fortnight must be endured to
be appreciated. At the end of that time the shepherding begins again,
and for the next month the company commander scours his district, this
time locating uniforms which in defiance of his last orders, and
prayers, have not been turned in. Very often the man has gone West and
the uniform as well. So remote are the chances of seeing either again
that the expression "Gone West" has almost the same meaning as the
modern soldier's "Nah pooh!"

During the winter months classes of instruction are held in all the
training centres, the instructors being the non-commissioned officers
of the permanent Militia. The amount of good done depends largely on the
ability and personal effort of the commanders of the local corps. During
these months such officers as can spare the time or have not already
done so become, by various long and tedious processes, involving much
correspondence, attached to the various barracks for instruction.

This arrangement is a very popular one for all concerned, providing as
it does--

1. Frequent leave for junior officers of the permanent force;

2. An opportunity to drill men who know, by years of experience, what
movements one wishes to perform, and who will (D.V.) perform them with
machinelike precision despite wrong commands;

3. A pleasant change in the ordinary drill for the above-mentioned men
owing to the aforesaid wrong commands.

In the evenings lectures are given by senior officers who are not young,
married, or talented in other ways. These lectures comprise the hundred
and one things an officer is expected to know, from "Military Law" to
"Protection when at Rest." This last subject will require revision after
the present campaign, it being the writer's opinion that soldiers never
rest--not when there is a foot of Allied soil unturned by a shovel, at
any rate.

Eventually one passes an examination of sorts and becomes a qualified
officer of Militia. The questions set are not hard--they would doubtless
raise a smile if handed to a first year Sandhurst man--but they present
real difficulties to officers whose opportunities are limited and whose
spare time is largely taken up in the hard and thankless task of
recruiting.

Officers of the permanent force are, in the main, graduates of the Royal
Military College, Kingston, an institution second to none in the Empire.
Field officers of Militia can also take a training course at the
college, but the numbers who can avail themselves of this opportunity
are limited.

Our staffs are assisted by very able officers loaned from the Imperial
Army in exchange for officers of the same rank attached to Imperial
battalions.

But the bulk of the instructional work is done, and exceedingly well
done too, by the staff-sergeant--the Sergeant What's-'is-Name of
Kipling's song.

He is very carefully selected and trained, and becomes in time a walking
encyclopaedia of military affairs. He must be a marvel of tact and
diplomacy as well, for not only will he meet the officer who knows
nothing and appreciates that fact, but also that other type--not
uncommon in civil life as well--the man who knows nothing yet thinks he
knows all.




CHAPTER II

PETEWAWA


Petewawa is the training ground of the Canadian Field Artillery and the
Permanent Force. Until very recently it was strictly reserved for them,
and was regarded, by those who had not been there, as a sort of seventh
heaven for soldiers. Later, when the city corps were taken there for
five days one June--or was it July?--we changed our minds and decided
that, geographically speaking, it was part of one of Dante's seven
circles. At present it is the internment camp for enemy aliens, and if
they endure it for the duration of the war the Kaiser should present
them, one and all, with iron crosses.

Fifty square miles of sandy hills, covered here and there with second
growth scrub, it is an ideal ground for the purpose. The temperature
rises to 98 deg. Fahrenheit most of the days in summer. What it is like in
winter the writer does not know--probably 40 deg. below zero, as our
climate does nothing by halves.

The name, curiously enough, means "a sound (or music) as of water
falling in the distance." Anyone who has toiled through its sands in a
July sun can appreciate the subtle humour of the red man who named it.
Other attractions are sand fleas, mosquitoes, and black flies, so that
after passing through a fortnight in Petewawa one is versed in all
modern methods of warfare, including the subterranean and the aerial.

Here the artillery do all their training--heavy and fortress artillery
excepted. The latter, however, send quotas each year, though performing
their actual drill in their armouries. There are other artillery camps,
but none of the importance of Petewawa, for it is essentially an active
service camp. Jackets are strapped to the limbers, shirt sleeves rolled
to the elbows, and straw hats, locally known as "cow-breakfasts," take
the place of the more military cap. The gunner reverts to his original
state and becomes a farmer again. And he is none the less a good gunner
for so doing. Men who can understand the mechanism of a modern combined
reaper and binder have no trouble learning the recoil apparatus of an
eighteen-pounder gun, and for drivers one cannot find a better man than
the farmer, for the man enlisting as such brings his own team with him
and naturally will not neglect them.

So one sees the batteries drawn up behind cover, firing slowly and
deliberately as they do now on a "quiet" day along the Western front.

A sharp report, a glint of flame and of the gun recoiling between the
two men sitting on either side of the trail, and another shell is
whirring on its way to the target. Almost before the recoil is finished
the breech is opened and another round thrust in, and the breech closes
with a clitch-clatch of its own. A few seconds later corrections come
over the telephone and another shell goes speeding overhead.

With the infantry, however, Petewawa is a different matter. To them it
means manoeuvres; and every soldier knows what manoeuvres mean.
There is a popular idea that these tactical exercises are enjoyed by