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D 629.F8 B433f 1917 01110280R ivnoiivn 3NIOI03W JO A aNiDiaaw jo Aavaan ivnoiivn 3NOIQ3W jo xavaan o a. NATIONAL LIBR. NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE NATIONAL LIBRARY C NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE NATIONAL LIBRARY O 3NI01Q3W jo Aavaan ivnoiivn 3nioiq3w jo Aavaai NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE F. McKELVEY BELL "HE IS A MAN AFTER MY OWN HEART!" EXCLAIMED MADAME COUILLARD THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE THE CHRONICLE OF A MILITARY HOSPITAL IN THE WAR ZONE F. McKELVEY BELL ILLUSTRATED BY CHRISTOPHER FULLEYLOVE NEW YORK GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY LIPR^RY COPYRIGHT, 1917, BT GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA TO SURGEON-GENERAL GUY CARLETON JONES, C.M.G. AND TO THE CANADIAN MEDICAL SERVICES OVERSEAS THESE PAGES ARE DEDICATED The wise and skillful guidance of the former and the efficient fulfilment of onerous duties by all have given to the Canadian Medical Service a status second to none in the Empire: The sick and wounded soldier has been made to feel that a Military Hospital may be not only a highly scientific institution—but a Home. PREFACE In glancing through these pages, now that they are written, I realise that insufficient stress has been laid upon the heroism and self- sacrifice of the non-commissioned officers and men of the Army Medical Corps—the boys who, in the dull monotony of hospital life, de- nied the exhilaration and stimulus of the firing line, are, alas, too often forgotten. All honour to them that in spite of this handicap they give of their best, and give it whole-heartedly to their stricken comrades. The pill of fact herein is but thinly coated with the sugar of fiction, but if the reader can get a picture, however indefinite, of military hospital life in France, these pages will not have been written altogether in vain. F. McK. B. vii ILLUSTRATIONS "He Is a Man After My Own Heart!" ex- claimed Madame Couillard (See page 166) Frontispiece PAGE The Song Was Sad—But We Laughed and Laughed Until We Wept Again 98 Rene Had Risen in the Excitement of His De- scription 162 "How Can You?" She Cried Involuntarily, "How Can a Little Lad Like You Bear to Kill Men with a Bayonet?" 180 German Wounded 190 ix t THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE CHAPTER I We were a heterogeneous lot—no one could deny that—all the way down from big Bill Barker, the heavyweight hostler, to little Hux- ford, the featherweight hustler. No commanding officer, while sober, would have chosen us en masse. But we weren't chosen—we just arrived, piece by piece; and the Hammer of Time, with many a nasty knock, has welded us. One by one, from the farthest corners of the Dominion, the magic magnet of the war drew us to the plains of Valcartier, and one by one it dropped us side by side. Why some came or why they are still here God knows ! Man may merely conjecture. Divers forces helped to speed us from our homes : love of adventure, loss of a sweetheart, family quarrels, the wander-spirit, and, among [13] THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE many other sentiments—patriotism. But only- one force held us together: our Colonel! With- out him, as an entity, we ceased to exist. His broad-minded generosity and liberal forbear- ance closed many an angry breach. His love of us finds its analogy only in the love of a father for his prodigal son. Long after we reached France, when the dull monotony of daily routine had somewhat sobered us, one early morning the sweet but disturbing note of the bugle sounding the reveille brought me back from dreams of home. I lay drowsily listening to its insistent voice. The door of my room opened softly, and the orderly stole in. He was a red-cheeked, full-lipped country lad, scarce seventeen years of age. He knelt down before the fireplace and meditatively raked the ashes from its recess. He was a slow lad; slow in speech, slower in action, and his big dreamy blue eyes belied his military bear- ing. I turned over in bed to get a better view of him. "What freak of fancy brought you so far from home, Wilson?" I queried. [14] THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE "Dunno, zur," he drawled. "Not much fun hustlin' coals in the mornin' nur pullin' teeth in the afternoon." For Wilson, among his multitudinous duties, was dental orderly too. "There's such an air of farm and field about you, Wilson, that sometimes, at short range, I imagine I get a whiff of new-mown hay." He sat up on his haunches, balancing the shovel upon his outstretched hand. The pool of memory was stirred. A hazy thought was struggling to the surface. He looked dream- ily toward me for a moment before he replied. "I wuz born an' raised in the country, zur," he said. "When the war broke out I wuz pick- in' apples on dad's farm. I didn't like my job. Gee! I wish't I'd stayed an' picked 'em now." How we ever taught Wilson to say "Sir," or even his corruption of the word, must re- main forever shrouded in mystery; but it was accomplished at last, just like many other great works of art. The Canadian spirit of democracy resents any semblance of a confession of inferiority, and the sergeant-major's troubles were like unto those of Job. Military discipline com- menced in earnest when the ship left the har- [15] THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE bour at Quebec, and has hung over us like a brooding robin ever since. It was an eventful morning to us (and to England) when our fleet of thirty ocean liners, sol- with its freight of thirty-three thousand diers, steamed slowly into the harbour at Ply- mouth and dropped anchor. For two glorious October weeks we had bedecked the Atlantic. His Majesty's fleet night and day had guarded us with an ever- increasing care. I can still look over the star- board rail and see the black smoke of the Gloria prowling along in the south, and, afar off in the north, the Queen Mary watching our hazardous course. The jaunty little Charybdis minced perkily ahead. There were other battleships, too, which picked us up from time to time; and the Monmouth, on the last voyage she was des- tined to make, steamed through our lines one day. The brave fellows, who were so soon to meet a watery grave, lined up upon her deck, giving us three resounding cheers as she passed by, and we echoed them with a will. Captain Reggy, our dapper mess secretary, [16] THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE was pacing the hurricane deck one day. From time to time his gaze turned wistfully across the waves to the other two lines of ships steaming peacefully along side by side. Something weighty was on his mind. Oc- casionally he glanced up to the military sig- nalling officer on the bridge, and with in- explicable interest watched his movements with the flags. "I say," Reggy called up to him, "can you get a message across to the Franconia?" "She's third ship in the third line—a little difficult, I should say," the signaller replied. "But it can be done, can't it?" Reggy coaxed. "Yes, if it's very important." "It's most important. I want to send a message to one of the nurses." The signalling lieutenant leaned both el- bows upon the rail and looked down in grin- ning amazement upon his intrepid interlocu- tor. "What the d 1! I say, you're the sort of man we need at the front—one with plenty of nerve!" [17] THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE "Be a sport and send it over!" Reggy coaxed. "All right—I'll take a chance." "Ask for Nursing Sister Marlow. Give her Captain Reggy's compliments and best wishes, and will she join him on board for dinner this evening, seven o'clock!" There was a flutter of flags for several seconds, while the ridiculous message passed across from ship to ship. Reggy waited anx- iously for a reply. In less than ten minutes from across the deep came this very lucid answer: "Nursing Sister Marlow's compliments to Captain Reggy. Regrets must decline kind invita- tion to dinner. Mai de mer has rendered her hors de combat. Many thanks." On the last day of our journey the speedy torpedo boat destroyers rushed out to meet us and whirled round and round us hour by hour as we entered the English Channel. Soon the welcome shores of England loomed through the haze, and the sight sent a thrill through all our hearts. We had scarce dropped anchor when, from the training ship close by, a yawl pulled [18] THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE quickly toward us, "manned" by a dozen or more lads from a training ship. They rowed with the quick neat stroke of trained athletes, and as the boat came alongside ours they shipped their oars and raised their boyish voices in a welcoming cheer. We leaned over the side of our ship and returned their greeting with a stentorian heartiness that startled the sleep- ing town. Showers of small coin and cigarettes were dropped into their boat, and the way in which they fought for position, scrambling over or under one another, upsetting this one or knocking down that, showed that these lads were quite capable of upholding all the old righting traditions of the British Navy.

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