In Flanders Fields And Other Poems [36]
was a circuitous one.
It began at Ottawa; it extended to Winnipeg, down the Nelson River
to York Factory, across Hudson Bay, down the Strait,
by Belle Isle and Newfoundland, and across the Gulf of St. Lawrence
to a place called Orwell. Lord Grey in the matter of company
had the reputation of doing himself well. John McCrae was of the party.
It also included John Macnaughton, L. S. Amery, Lord Percy,
Lord Lanesborough, and one or two others. The ship had called
at North Sydney where Lady Grey and the Lady Evelyn joined.
Through the place in a deep ravine runs an innocent stream which broadens out
into still pools, dark under the alders. There was a rod --
a very beautiful rod in two pieces. It excited his suspicion.
It was put into his hand, the first stranger hand that ever held it;
and the first cast showed that it was a worthy hand. The sea-trout
were running that afternoon. Thirty years before, in that memorable visit
to Scotland, he had been taken aside by "an old friend of his grandfather's".
It was there he learned "to love the trooties". The love and the art
never left him. It was at this same Orwell his brother first heard
the world called to arms on that early August morning in 1914.
In those civil years there were, of course, diversions:
visits to the United States and meetings with notable men --
Welch, Futcher, Hurd, White, Howard, Barker: voyages to Europe
with a detailed itinerary upon the record; walks and rides upon the mountain;
excursion in winter to the woods, and in summer to the lakes; and one visit
to the Packards in Maine, with the sea enthusiastically described.
Upon those woodland excursions and upon many other adventures
his companion is often referred to as "Billy T.", who can be no other
than Lieut.-Col. W. G. Turner, "M.C."
Much is left out of the diary that we would wish to have recorded.
There is tantalizing mention of "conversations" with Shepherd --
with Roddick -- with Chipman -- with Armstrong -- with Gardner --
with Martin -- with Moyse. Occasionally there is a note of description:
"James Mavor is a kindly genius with much knowledge"; "Tait McKenzie
presided ideally" at a Shakespeare dinner; "Stephen Leacock does not keep
all the good things for his publisher." Those who know the life in Montreal
may well for themselves supply the details.
IX
Dead in His Prime
John McCrae left the front after the second battle of Ypres,
and never returned. On June 1st, 1915, he was posted to
No. 3 General Hospital at Boulogne, a most efficient unit
organized by McGill University and commanded by that fine soldier
Colonel H. S. Birkett, C.B. He was placed in charge of medicine,
with the rank of Lieut.-Colonel as from April 17th, 1915,
and there he remained until his death.
At first he did not relish the change. His heart was with the guns.
He had transferred from the artillery to the medical service
as recently as the previous autumn, and embarked a few days afterwards
at Quebec, on the 29th of September, arriving at Davenport,
October 20th, 1914. Although he was attached as Medical Officer
to the 1st Brigade of Artillery, he could not forget that he was
no longer a gunner, and in those tumultuous days he was often to be found
in the observation post rather than in his dressing station.
He had inherited something of the old army superciliousness towards
a "non-combatant" service, being unaware that in this war
the battle casualties in the medical corps were to be higher
than in any other arm of the service. From South Africa he wrote
exactly fifteen years before: "I am glad that I am not `a medical' out here.
No `R.A.M.C.' or any other `M.C.' for me. There is a big breach,
and the medicals are on the far side of it." On August 7th, 1915,
he writes from his hospital post, "I expect to wish often
that I had stuck by the artillery." But he had no choice.
Of this period of his service there is little written record.
He merely did his work, and did it well, as he always did
what his mind found to
It began at Ottawa; it extended to Winnipeg, down the Nelson River
to York Factory, across Hudson Bay, down the Strait,
by Belle Isle and Newfoundland, and across the Gulf of St. Lawrence
to a place called Orwell. Lord Grey in the matter of company
had the reputation of doing himself well. John McCrae was of the party.
It also included John Macnaughton, L. S. Amery, Lord Percy,
Lord Lanesborough, and one or two others. The ship had called
at North Sydney where Lady Grey and the Lady Evelyn joined.
Through the place in a deep ravine runs an innocent stream which broadens out
into still pools, dark under the alders. There was a rod --
a very beautiful rod in two pieces. It excited his suspicion.
It was put into his hand, the first stranger hand that ever held it;
and the first cast showed that it was a worthy hand. The sea-trout
were running that afternoon. Thirty years before, in that memorable visit
to Scotland, he had been taken aside by "an old friend of his grandfather's".
It was there he learned "to love the trooties". The love and the art
never left him. It was at this same Orwell his brother first heard
the world called to arms on that early August morning in 1914.
In those civil years there were, of course, diversions:
visits to the United States and meetings with notable men --
Welch, Futcher, Hurd, White, Howard, Barker: voyages to Europe
with a detailed itinerary upon the record; walks and rides upon the mountain;
excursion in winter to the woods, and in summer to the lakes; and one visit
to the Packards in Maine, with the sea enthusiastically described.
Upon those woodland excursions and upon many other adventures
his companion is often referred to as "Billy T.", who can be no other
than Lieut.-Col. W. G. Turner, "M.C."
Much is left out of the diary that we would wish to have recorded.
There is tantalizing mention of "conversations" with Shepherd --
with Roddick -- with Chipman -- with Armstrong -- with Gardner --
with Martin -- with Moyse. Occasionally there is a note of description:
"James Mavor is a kindly genius with much knowledge"; "Tait McKenzie
presided ideally" at a Shakespeare dinner; "Stephen Leacock does not keep
all the good things for his publisher." Those who know the life in Montreal
may well for themselves supply the details.
IX
Dead in His Prime
John McCrae left the front after the second battle of Ypres,
and never returned. On June 1st, 1915, he was posted to
No. 3 General Hospital at Boulogne, a most efficient unit
organized by McGill University and commanded by that fine soldier
Colonel H. S. Birkett, C.B. He was placed in charge of medicine,
with the rank of Lieut.-Colonel as from April 17th, 1915,
and there he remained until his death.
At first he did not relish the change. His heart was with the guns.
He had transferred from the artillery to the medical service
as recently as the previous autumn, and embarked a few days afterwards
at Quebec, on the 29th of September, arriving at Davenport,
October 20th, 1914. Although he was attached as Medical Officer
to the 1st Brigade of Artillery, he could not forget that he was
no longer a gunner, and in those tumultuous days he was often to be found
in the observation post rather than in his dressing station.
He had inherited something of the old army superciliousness towards
a "non-combatant" service, being unaware that in this war
the battle casualties in the medical corps were to be higher
than in any other arm of the service. From South Africa he wrote
exactly fifteen years before: "I am glad that I am not `a medical' out here.
No `R.A.M.C.' or any other `M.C.' for me. There is a big breach,
and the medicals are on the far side of it." On August 7th, 1915,
he writes from his hospital post, "I expect to wish often
that I had stuck by the artillery." But he had no choice.
Of this period of his service there is little written record.
He merely did his work, and did it well, as he always did
what his mind found to