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@@ -0,0 +1,3923 @@ +Project Gutenberg's In Flanders Fields and Other Poems, by John McCrae + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: In Flanders Fields and Other Poems + With an Essay in Character, by Sir Andrew Macphail + +Author: John McCrae + +Release Date: July 5, 2008 [EBook #353] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN FLANDERS FIELDS AND OTHER POEMS *** + + + + +Produced by A. Light, and L. Bowser + + + + + +IN FLANDERS FIELDS + +by John McCrae + +[Canadian Poet, 1872-1918] + + +With an Essay in Character by Sir Andrew Macphail + + +[This text is taken from the New York edition of 1919.] + + +[Note on text: Italicized stanzas are indented 5 spaces. Italicized +words or phrases are capitalized. Some slight errors have been +corrected.] + + + + + +======== + +John McCrae, physician, soldier, and poet, died in France a +Lieutenant-Colonel with the Canadian forces. + +The poem which gives this collection of his lovely verse its name has +been extensively reprinted, and received with unusual enthusiasm. + +The volume contains, as well, a striking essay in character by his +friend, Sir Andrew Macphail. + +======== + + + +{Although the poem itself is included shortly, this next section is +included for completeness, and to show John McCrae's punctuation -- also +to show that I'm not the only one who forgets lines. -- A. L.} + + +IN FLANDERS FIELDS + + In Flanders fields the poppies grow + Between the crosses, row on row + That mark our place: and in the sky + The larks still bravely singing, fly + Scarce heard amid the guns below. + + We are the Dead. Short days ago + We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, + Loved, and were loved, and now we lie + In Flanders fields. + + Take up our quarrel with the foe: + To you from failing hands we throw + The Torch: be yours to hold it high! + If ye break faith with us who die + We shall not sleep, though poppies grow + In Flanders fields. + + John McCrae + + +{From a} Facsimile of an autograph copy of the poem "In Flanders Fields" + +This was probably written from memory as "grow" is used in place of +"blow" in the first line. + + + + + + +Contents + + + + In Flanders Fields + 1915 + + The Anxious Dead + 1917 + + The Warrior + 1907 + + Isandlwana + 1910 + + The Unconquered Dead + 1906 + + The Captain + 1913 + + The Song of the Derelict + 1898 + + Quebec + 1908 + + Then and Now + 1896 + + Unsolved + 1895 + + The Hope of My Heart + 1894 + + Penance + 1896 + + Slumber Songs + 1897 + + The Oldest Drama + 1907 + + Recompense + 1896 + + Mine Host + 1897 + + Equality + 1898 + + Anarchy + 1897 + + Disarmament + 1899 + + The Dead Master + 1913 + + The Harvest of the Sea + 1898 + + The Dying of Pere Pierre + 1904 + + Eventide + 1895 + + Upon Watts' Picture "Sic Transit" + 1904 + + A Song of Comfort + 1894 + + The Pilgrims + 1905 + + The Shadow of the Cross + 1894 + + The Night Cometh + 1913 + + In Due Season + 1897 + + John McCrae + An Essay in Character by Sir Andrew Macphail + + + + + +In Flanders Fields + + + + In Flanders fields the poppies blow + Between the crosses, row on row, + That mark our place; and in the sky + The larks, still bravely singing, fly + Scarce heard amid the guns below. + + We are the Dead. Short days ago + We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, + Loved and were loved, and now we lie, + In Flanders fields. + + Take up our quarrel with the foe: + To you from failing hands we throw + The torch; be yours to hold it high. + If ye break faith with us who die + We shall not sleep, though poppies grow + In Flanders fields. + + + + +The Anxious Dead + + + + O guns, fall silent till the dead men hear + Above their heads the legions pressing on: + (These fought their fight in time of bitter fear, + And died not knowing how the day had gone.) + + O flashing muzzles, pause, and let them see + The coming dawn that streaks the sky afar; + Then let your mighty chorus witness be + To them, and Caesar, that we still make war. + + Tell them, O guns, that we have heard their call, + That we have sworn, and will not turn aside, + That we will onward till we win or fall, + That we will keep the faith for which they died. + + Bid them be patient, and some day, anon, + They shall feel earth enwrapt in silence deep; + Shall greet, in wonderment, the quiet dawn, + And in content may turn them to their sleep. + + + + +The Warrior + + + + He wrought in poverty, the dull grey days, + But with the night his little lamp-lit room + Was bright with battle flame, or through a haze + Of smoke that stung his eyes he heard the boom + Of Bluecher's guns; he shared Almeida's scars, + And from the close-packed deck, about to die, + Looked up and saw the "Birkenhead"'s tall spars + Weave wavering lines across the Southern sky: + + Or in the stifling 'tween decks, row on row, + At Aboukir, saw how the dead men lay; + Charged with the fiercest in Busaco's strife, + Brave dreams are his -- the flick'ring lamp burns low -- + Yet couraged for the battles of the day + He goes to stand full face to face with life. + + + + +Isandlwana + + + + _Scarlet coats, and crash o' the band, + The grey of a pauper's gown, + A soldier's grave in Zululand, + And a woman in Brecon Town._ + + My little lad for a soldier boy, + (Mothers o' Brecon Town!) + My eyes for tears and his for joy + When he went from Brecon Town, + His for the flags and the gallant sights + His for the medals and his for the fights, + And mine for the dreary, rainy nights + At home in Brecon Town. + + They say he's laid beneath a tree, + (Come back to Brecon Town!) + Shouldn't I know? -- I was there to see: + (It's far to Brecon Town!) + It's me that keeps it trim and drest + With a briar there and a rose by his breast -- + The English flowers he likes the best + That I bring from Brecon Town. + + And I sit beside him -- him and me, + (We're back to Brecon Town.) + To talk of the things that used to be + (Grey ghosts of Brecon Town); + I know the look o' the land and sky, + And the bird that builds in the tree near by, + And times I hear the jackals cry, + And me in Brecon Town. + + _Golden grey on miles of sand + The dawn comes creeping down; + It's day in far off Zululand + And night in Brecon Town._ + + + + +The Unconquered Dead + + ". . . defeated, with great loss." + + + Not we the conquered! Not to us the blame + Of them that flee, of them that basely yield; + Nor ours the shout of victory, the fame + Of them that vanquish in a stricken field. + + That day of battle in the dusty heat + We lay and heard the bullets swish and sing + Like scythes amid the over-ripened wheat, + And we the harvest of their garnering. + + Some yielded, No, not we! Not we, we swear + By these our wounds; this trench upon the hill + Where all the shell-strewn earth is seamed and bare, + Was ours to keep; and lo! we have it still. + + We might have yielded, even we, but death + Came for our helper; like a sudden flood + The crashing darkness fell; our painful breath + We drew with gasps amid the choking blood. + + The roar fell faint and farther off, and soon + Sank to a foolish humming in our ears, + Like crickets in the long, hot afternoon + Among the wheat fields of the olden years. + + Before our eyes a boundless wall of red + Shot through by sudden streaks of jagged pain! + Then a slow-gathering darkness overhead + And rest came on us like a quiet rain. + + Not we the conquered! Not to us the shame, + Who hold our earthen ramparts, nor shall cease + To hold them ever; victors we, who came + In that fierce moment to our honoured peace. + + + + +The Captain + + 1797 + + + _Here all the day she swings from tide to tide, + Here all night long she tugs a rusted chain, + A masterless hulk that was a ship of pride, + Yet unashamed: her memories remain._ + + It was Nelson in the 'Captain', Cape St. Vincent far alee, + With the 'Vanguard' leading s'uth'ard in the haze -- + Little Jervis and the Spaniards and the fight that was to be, + Twenty-seven Spanish battleships, great bullies of the sea, + And the 'Captain' there to find her day of days. + + Right into them the 'Vanguard' leads, but with a sudden tack + The Spaniards double swiftly on their trail; + Now Jervis overshoots his mark, like some too eager pack, + He will not overtake them, haste he e'er so greatly back, + But Nelson and the 'Captain' will not fail. + + Like a tigress on her quarry leaps the 'Captain' from her place, + To lie across the fleeing squadron's way: + Heavy odds and heavy onslaught, gun to gun and face to face, + Win the ship a name of glory, win the men a death of grace, + For a little hold the Spanish fleet in play. + + Ended now the "Captain"'s battle, stricken sore she falls aside + Holding still her foemen, beaten to the knee: + As the 'Vanguard' drifted past her, "Well done, 'Captain'," Jervis cried, + Rang the cheers of men that conquered, ran the blood of men that died, + And the ship had won her immortality. + + _Lo! here her progeny of steel and steam, + A funnelled monster at her mooring swings: + Still, in our hearts, we see her pennant stream, + And "Well done, 'Captain'," like a trumpet rings._ + + + + +The Song of the Derelict + + + + Ye have sung me your songs, ye have chanted your rimes + (I scorn your beguiling, O sea!) + Ye fondle me now, but to strike me betimes. + (A treacherous lover, the sea!) + Once I saw as I lay, half-awash in the night + A hull in the gloom -- a quick hail -- and a light + And I lurched o'er to leeward and saved her for spite + From the doom that ye meted to me. + + I was sister to 'Terrible', seventy-four, + (Yo ho! for the swing of the sea!) + And ye sank her in fathoms a thousand or more + (Alas! for the might of the sea!) + Ye taunt me and sing me her fate for a sign! + What harm can ye wreak more on me or on mine? + Ho braggart! I care not for boasting of thine -- + A fig for the wrath of the sea! + + Some night to the lee of the land I shall steal, + (Heigh-ho to be home from the sea!) + No pilot but Death at the rudderless wheel, + (None knoweth the harbor as he!) + To lie where the slow tide creeps hither and fro + And the shifting sand laps me around, for I know + That my gallant old crew are in Port long ago -- + For ever at peace with the sea! + + + + +Quebec + + 1608-1908 + + + Of old, like Helen, guerdon of the strong -- + Like Helen fair, like Helen light of word, -- + "The spoils unto the conquerors belong. + Who winneth me must win me by the sword." + + Grown old, like Helen, once the jealous prize + That strong men battled for in savage hate, + Can she look forth with unregretful eyes, + Where sleep Montcalm and Wolfe beside her gate? + + + + +Then and Now + + + + Beneath her window in the fragrant night + I half forget how truant years have flown + Since I looked up to see her chamber-light, + Or catch, perchance, her slender shadow thrown + Upon the casement; but the nodding leaves + Sweep lazily across the unlit pane, + And to and fro beneath the shadowy eaves, + Like restless birds, the breath of coming rain + Creeps, lilac-laden, up the village street + When all is still, as if the very trees + Were listening for the coming of her feet + That come no more; yet, lest I weep, the breeze + Sings some forgotten song of those old years + Until my heart grows far too glad for tears. + + + + +Unsolved + + + + Amid my books I lived the hurrying years, + Disdaining kinship with my fellow man; + Alike to me were human smiles and tears, + I cared not whither Earth's great life-stream ran, + Till as I knelt before my mouldered shrine, + God made me look into a woman's eyes; + And I, who thought all earthly wisdom mine, + Knew in a moment that the eternal skies + Were measured but in inches, to the quest + That lay before me in that mystic gaze. + "Surely I have been errant: it is best + That I should tread, with men their human ways." + God took the teacher, ere the task was learned, + And to my lonely books again I turned. + + + + +The Hope of My Heart + + "Delicta juventutis et ignorantius ejus, + quoesumus ne memineris, Domine." + + + + I left, to earth, a little maiden fair, + With locks of gold, and eyes that shamed the light; + I prayed that God might have her in His care + And sight. + + Earth's love was false; her voice, a siren's song; + (Sweet mother-earth was but a lying name) + The path she showed was but the path of wrong + And shame. + + "Cast her not out!" I cry. God's kind words come -- + "Her future is with Me, as was her past; + It shall be My good will to bring her home + At last." + + + + +Penance + + + My lover died a century ago, + Her dear heart stricken by my sland'rous breath, + Wherefore the Gods forbade that I should know + The peace of death. + + Men pass my grave, and say, "'Twere well to sleep, + Like such an one, amid the uncaring dead!" + How should they know the vigils that I keep, + The tears I shed? + + Upon the grave, I count with lifeless breath, + Each night, each year, the flowers that bloom and die, + Deeming the leaves, that fall to dreamless death, + More blest than I. + + 'Twas just last year -- I heard two lovers pass + So near, I caught the tender words he said: + To-night the rain-drenched breezes sway the grass + Above his head. + + That night full envious of his life was I, + That youth and love should stand at his behest; + To-night, I envy him, that he should lie + At utter rest. + + + + +Slumber Songs + + + I + + Sleep, little eyes + That brim with childish tears amid thy play, + Be comforted! No grief of night can weigh + Against the joys that throng thy coming day. + + Sleep, little heart! + There is no place in Slumberland for tears: + Life soon enough will bring its chilling fears + And sorrows that will dim the after years. + Sleep, little heart! + + + II + + Ah, little eyes + Dead blossoms of a springtime long ago, + That life's storm crushed and left to lie below + The benediction of the falling snow! + + Sleep, little heart + That ceased so long ago its frantic beat! + The years that come and go with silent feet + Have naught to tell save this -- that rest is sweet. + Dear little heart. + + + + +The Oldest Drama + + _"It fell on a day, that he went out to his father to the reapers. + And he said unto his father, My head, my head. And he said to a lad, + Carry him to his mother. And . . . he sat on her knees till noon, + and then died. And she went up, and laid him on the bed. . . . + And shut the door upon him and went out."_ + + + + Immortal story that no mother's heart + Ev'n yet can read, nor feel the biting pain + That rent her soul! Immortal not by art + Which makes a long past sorrow sting again + + Like grief of yesterday: but since it said + In simplest word the truth which all may see, + Where any mother sobs above her dead + And plays anew the silent tragedy. + + + + +Recompense + + + + I saw two sowers in Life's field at morn, + To whom came one in angel guise and said, + "Is it for labour that a man is born? + Lo: I am Ease. Come ye and eat my bread!" + Then gladly one forsook his task undone + And with the Tempter went his slothful way, + The other toiled until the setting sun + With stealing shadows blurred the dusty day. + + Ere harvest time, upon earth's peaceful breast + Each laid him down among the unreaping dead. + "Labour hath other recompense than rest, + Else were the toiler like the fool," I said; + "God meteth him not less, but rather more + Because he sowed and others reaped his store." + + + + +Mine Host + + + + There stands a hostel by a travelled way; + Life is the road and Death the worthy host; + Each guest he greets, nor ever lacks to say, + "How have ye fared?" They answer him, the most, + "This lodging place is other than we sought; + We had intended farther, but the gloom + Came on apace, and found us ere we thought: + Yet will we lodge. Thou hast abundant room." + + Within sit haggard men that speak no word, + No fire gleams their cheerful welcome shed; + No voice of fellowship or strife is heard + But silence of a multitude of dead. + "Naught can I offer ye," quoth Death, "but rest!" + And to his chamber leads each tired guest. + + + + +Equality + + + + I saw a King, who spent his life to weave + Into a nation all his great heart thought, + Unsatisfied until he should achieve + The grand ideal that his manhood sought; + Yet as he saw the end within his reach, + Death took the sceptre from his failing hand, + And all men said, "He gave his life to teach + The task of honour to a sordid land!" + Within his gates I saw, through all those years, + One at his humble toil with cheery face, + Whom (being dead) the children, half in tears, + Remembered oft, and missed him from his place. + If he be greater that his people blessed + Than he the children loved, God knoweth best. + + + + +Anarchy + + + + I saw a city filled with lust and shame, + Where men, like wolves, slunk through the grim half-light; + And sudden, in the midst of it, there came + One who spoke boldly for the cause of Right. + + And speaking, fell before that brutish race + Like some poor wren that shrieking eagles tear, + While brute Dishonour, with her bloodless face + Stood by and smote his lips that moved in prayer. + + "Speak not of God! In centuries that word + Hath not been uttered! Our own king are we." + And God stretched forth his finger as He heard + And o'er it cast a thousand leagues of sea. + + + + +Disarmament + + + + One spake amid the nations, "Let us cease + From darkening with strife the fair World's light, + We who are great in war be great in peace. + No longer let us plead the cause by might." + + But from a million British graves took birth + A silent voice -- the million spake as one -- + "If ye have righted all the wrongs of earth + Lay by the sword! Its work and ours is done." + + + + +The Dead Master + + + + Amid earth's vagrant noises, he caught the note sublime: + To-day around him surges from the silences of Time + A flood of nobler music, like a river deep and broad, + Fit song for heroes gathered in the banquet-hall of God. + + + + +The Harvest of the Sea + + + + The earth grows white with harvest; all day long + The sickles gleam, until the darkness weaves + Her web of silence o'er the thankful song + Of reapers bringing home the golden sheaves. + + The wave tops whiten on the sea fields drear, + And men go forth at haggard dawn to reap; + But ever 'mid the gleaners' song we hear + The half-hushed sobbing of the hearts that weep. + + + + +The Dying of Pere Pierre + + ". . . with two other priests; the same night he died, + and was buried by the shores of the lake that bears his name." + Chronicle. + + + "Nay, grieve not that ye can no honour give + To these poor bones that presently must be + But carrion; since I have sought to live + Upon God's earth, as He hath guided me, + I shall not lack! Where would ye have me lie? + High heaven is higher than cathedral nave: + Do men paint chancels fairer than the sky?" + Beside the darkened lake they made his grave, + Below the altar of the hills; and night + Swung incense clouds of mist in creeping lines + That twisted through the tree-trunks, where the light + Groped through the arches of the silent pines: + And he, beside the lonely path he trod, + Lay, tombed in splendour, in the House of God. + + + + +Eventide + + + + The day is past and the toilers cease; + The land grows dim 'mid the shadows grey, + And hearts are glad, for the dark brings peace + At the close of day. + + Each weary toiler, with lingering pace, + As he homeward turns, with the long day done, + Looks out to the west, with the light on his face + Of the setting sun. + + Yet some see not (with their sin-dimmed eyes) + The promise of rest in the fading light; + But the clouds loom dark in the angry skies + At the fall of night. + + And some see only a golden sky + Where the elms their welcoming arms stretch wide + To the calling rooks, as they homeward fly + At the eventide. + + It speaks of peace that comes after strife, + Of the rest He sends to the hearts He tried, + Of the calm that follows the stormiest life -- + God's eventide. + + + + +Upon Watts' Picture "Sic Transit" + + _"What I spent I had; what I saved, I lost; what I gave, I have."_ + + + But yesterday the tourney, all the eager joy of life, + The waving of the banners, and the rattle of the spears, + The clash of sword and harness, and the madness of the strife; + To-night begin the silence and the peace of endless years. + + (One sings within.) + + But yesterday the glory and the prize, + And best of all, to lay it at her feet, + To find my guerdon in her speaking eyes: + I grudge them not, -- they pass, albeit sweet. + + The ring of spears, the winning of the fight, + The careless song, the cup, the love of friends, + The earth in spring -- to live, to feel the light -- + 'Twas good the while it lasted: here it ends. + + Remain the well-wrought deed in honour done, + The dole for Christ's dear sake, the words that fall + In kindliness upon some outcast one, -- + They seemed so little: now they are my All. + + + + +A Song of Comfort + + _"Sleep, weary ones, while ye may -- + Sleep, oh, sleep!"_ + Eugene Field. + + + Thro' May time blossoms, with whisper low, + The soft wind sang to the dead below: + "Think not with regret on the Springtime's song + And the task ye left while your hands were strong. + The song would have ceased when the Spring was past, + And the task that was joyous be weary at last." + + To the winter sky when the nights were long + The tree-tops tossed with a ceaseless song: + "Do ye think with regret on the sunny days + And the path ye left, with its untrod ways? + The sun might sink in a storm cloud's frown + And the path grow rough when the night came down." + + In the grey twilight of the autumn eves, + It sighed as it sang through the dying leaves: + "Ye think with regret that the world was bright, + That your path was short and your task was light; + The path, though short, was perhaps the best + And the toil was sweet, that it led to rest." + + + + +The Pilgrims + + + + An uphill path, sun-gleams between the showers, + Where every beam that broke the leaden sky + Lit other hills with fairer ways than ours; + Some clustered graves where half our memories lie; + And one grim Shadow creeping ever nigh: + And this was Life. + + Wherein we did another's burden seek, + The tired feet we helped upon the road, + The hand we gave the weary and the weak, + The miles we lightened one another's load, + When, faint to falling, onward yet we strode: + This too was Life. + + Till, at the upland, as we turned to go + Amid fair meadows, dusky in the night, + The mists fell back upon the road below; + Broke on our tired eyes the western light; + The very graves were for a moment bright: + And this was Death. + + + + +The Shadow of the Cross + + + + At the drowsy dusk when the shadows creep + From the golden west, where the sunbeams sleep, + + An angel mused: "Is there good or ill + In the mad world's heart, since on Calvary's hill + + 'Round the cross a mid-day twilight fell + That darkened earth and o'ershadowed hell?" + + Through the streets of a city the angel sped; + Like an open scroll men's hearts he read. + + In a monarch's ear his courtiers lied + And humble faces hid hearts of pride. + + Men's hate waxed hot, and their hearts grew cold, + As they haggled and fought for the lust of gold. + + Despairing, he cried, "After all these years + Is there naught but hatred and strife and tears?" + + He found two waifs in an attic bare; + -- A single crust was their meagre fare -- + + One strove to quiet the other's cries, + And the love-light dawned in her famished eyes + + As she kissed the child with a motherly air: + "I don't need mine, you can have my share." + + Then the angel knew that the earthly cross + And the sorrow and shame were not wholly loss. + + At dawn, when hushed was earth's busy hum + And men looked not for their Christ to come, + + From the attic poor to the palace grand, + The King and the beggar went hand in hand. + + + + +The Night Cometh + + + + Cometh the night. The wind falls low, + The trees swing slowly to and fro: + Around the church the headstones grey + Cluster, like children strayed away + But found again, and folded so. + + No chiding look doth she bestow: + If she is glad, they cannot know; + If ill or well they spend their day, + Cometh the night. + + Singing or sad, intent they go; + They do not see the shadows grow; + "There yet is time," they lightly say, + "Before our work aside we lay"; + Their task is but half-done, and lo! + Cometh the night. + + + + +In Due Season + + + + If night should come and find me at my toil, + When all Life's day I had, tho' faintly, wrought, + And shallow furrows, cleft in stony soil + Were all my labour: Shall I count it naught + + If only one poor gleaner, weak of hand, + Shall pick a scanty sheaf where I have sown? + "Nay, for of thee the Master doth demand + Thy work: the harvest rests with Him alone." + + + + + +JOHN MCCRAE + +An Essay in Character + +by Sir Andrew Macphail + + + + +I. In Flanders Fields + + +"In Flanders Fields", the piece of verse from which this little book +takes its title, first appeared in 'Punch' in the issue of December +8th, 1915. At the time I was living in Flanders at a convent in front +of Locre, in shelter of Kemmel Hill, which lies seven miles south +and slightly west of Ypres. The piece bore no signature, but it was +unmistakably from the hand of John McCrae. + +From this convent of women which was the headquarters of the 6th +Canadian Field Ambulance, I wrote to John McCrae, who was then at +Boulogne, accusing him of the authorship, and furnished him with +evidence. From memory--since at the front one carries one book only--I +quoted to him another piece of his own verse, entitled "The Night +Cometh": + + "Cometh the night. The wind falls low, + The trees swing slowly to and fro; + Around the church the headstones grey + Cluster, like children stray'd away, + But found again, and folded so." + +It will be observed at once by reference to the text that in form the +two poems are identical. They contain the same number of lines and +feet as surely as all sonnets do. Each travels upon two rhymes with the +members of a broken couplet in widely separated refrain. To the casual +reader this much is obvious, but there are many subtleties in the verse +which made the authorship inevitable. It was a form upon which he had +worked for years, and made his own. When the moment arrived the medium +was ready. No other medium could have so well conveyed the thought. + +This familiarity with his verse was not a matter of accident. For many +years I was editor of the 'University Magazine', and those who are +curious about such things may discover that one half of the poems +contained in this little book were first published upon its pages. This +magazine had its origin in McGill University, Montreal, in the year +1902. Four years later its borders were enlarged to the wider term, +and it strove to express an educated opinion upon questions immediately +concerning Canada, and to treat freely in a literary way all matters +which have to do with politics, industry, philosophy, science, and art. + +To this magazine during those years John McCrae contributed all his +verse. It was therefore not unseemly that I should have written to him, +when "In Flanders Fields" appeared in 'Punch'. Amongst his papers I find +my poor letter, and many others of which something more might be made if +one were concerned merely with the literary side of his life rather than +with his life itself. Two references will be enough. Early in 1905 he +offered "The Pilgrims" for publication. I notified him of the place +assigned to it in the magazine, and added a few words of appreciation, +and after all these years it has come back to me. + +The letter is dated February 9th, 1905, and reads: "I place the poem +next to my own buffoonery. It is the real stuff of poetry. How did you +make it? What have you to do with medicine? I was charmed with it: +the thought high, the image perfect, the expression complete; not too +reticent, not too full. Videntes autem stellam gavisi sunt gaudio magno +valde. In our own tongue,--'slainte filidh'." To his mother he wrote, +"the Latin is translatable as, 'seeing the star they rejoiced with +exceeding gladness'." For the benefit of those whose education has +proceeded no further than the Latin, it may be explained that the two +last words mean, "Hail to the poet". + +To the inexperienced there is something portentous about an appearance +in print and something mysterious about the business of an editor. +A legend has already grown up around the publication of "In Flanders +Fields" in 'Punch'. The truth is, "that the poem was offered in the +usual way and accepted; that is all." The usual way of offering a piece +to an editor is to put it in an envelope with a postage stamp outside to +carry it there, and a stamp inside to carry it back. Nothing else helps. + +An editor is merely a man who knows his right hand from his left, good +from evil, having the honesty of a kitchen cook who will not spoil his +confection by favour for a friend. Fear of a foe is not a temptation, +since editors are too humble and harmless to have any. There are of +course certain slight offices which an editor can render, especially +to those whose writings he does not intend to print, but John McCrae +required none of these. His work was finished to the last point. He +would bring his piece in his hand and put it on the table. A wise editor +knows when to keep his mouth shut; but now I am free to say that he +never understood the nicety of the semi-colon, and his writing was too +heavily stopped. + +He was not of those who might say,--take it or leave it; but +rather,--look how perfect it is; and it was so. Also he was the first +to recognize that an editor has some rights and prejudices, that certain +words make him sick; that certain other words he reserves for his own +use,--"meticulous" once a year, "adscititious" once in a life time. +This explains why editors write so little. In the end, out of mere good +nature, or seeing the futility of it all, they contribute their words to +contributors and write no more. + +The volume of verse as here printed is small. The volume might be +enlarged; it would not be improved. To estimate the value and institute +a comparison of those herein set forth would be a congenial but useless +task, which may well be left to those whose profession it is to offer +instruction to the young. To say that "In Flanders Fields" is not the +best would involve one in controversy. It did give expression to a mood +which at the time was universal, and will remain as a permanent record +when the mood is passed away. + +The poem was first called to my attention by a Sapper officer, then +Major, now Brigadier. He brought the paper in his hand from his billet +in Dranoutre. It was printed on page 468, and Mr. 'Punch' will be glad +to be told that, in his annual index, in the issue of December 29th, +1915, he has misspelled the author's name, which is perhaps the only +mistake he ever made. This officer could himself weave the sonnet with +deft fingers, and he pointed out many deep things. It is to the sappers +the army always goes for "technical material". + +The poem, he explained, consists of thirteen lines in iambic tetrameter +and two lines of two iambics each; in all, one line more than the +sonnet's count. There are two rhymes only, since the short lines must +be considered blank, and are, in fact, identical. But it is a difficult +mode. It is true, he allowed, that the octet of the sonnet has only two +rhymes, but these recur only four times, and the liberty of the sestet +tempers its despotism,--which I thought a pretty phrase. He pointed +out the dangers inherent in a restricted rhyme, and cited the case of +Browning, the great rhymster, who was prone to resort to any rhyme, and +frequently ended in absurdity, finding it easier to make a new verse +than to make an end. + +At great length--but the December evenings in Flanders are long, how +long, O Lord!--this Sapper officer demonstrated the skill with which the +rhymes are chosen. They are vocalized. Consonant endings would spoil the +whole effect. They reiterate O and I, not the O of pain and the Ay +of assent, but the O of wonder, of hope, of aspiration; and the I of +personal pride, of jealous immortality, of the Ego against the Universe. +They are, he went on to expound, a recurrence of the ancient question: +"How are the dead raised, and with what body do they come?" "How shall I +bear my light across?" and of the defiant cry: "If Christ be not raised, +then is our faith vain." + +The theme has three phases: the first a calm, a deadly calm, opening +statement in five lines; the second in four lines, an explanation, +a regret, a reiteration of the first; the third, without preliminary +crescendo, breaking out into passionate adjuration in vivid metaphor, a +poignant appeal which is at once a blessing and a curse. In the closing +line is a satisfying return to the first phase,--and the thing is done. +One is so often reminded of the poverty of men's invention, their +best being so incomplete, their greatest so trivial, that one welcomes +what--this Sapper officer surmised--may become a new and fixed mode of +expression in verse. + +As to the theme itself--I am using his words: what is his is mine; what +is mine is his--the interest is universal. The dead, still conscious, +fallen in a noble cause, see their graves overblown in a riot of poppy +bloom. The poppy is the emblem of sleep. The dead desire to sleep +undisturbed, but yet curiously take an interest in passing events. They +regret that they have not been permitted to live out their life to its +normal end. They call on the living to finish their task, else they +shall not sink into that complete repose which they desire, in spite +of the balm of the poppy. Formalists may protest that the poet is not +sincere, since it is the seed and not the flower that produces sleep. +They might as well object that the poet has no right to impersonate the +dead. We common folk know better. We know that in personating the dear +dead, and calling in bell-like tones on the inarticulate living, the +poet shall be enabled to break the lightnings of the Beast, and thereby +he, being himself, alas! dead, yet speaketh; and shall speak, to ones +and twos and a host. As it is written in resonant bronze: VIVOS . VOCO +. MORTUOS . PLANGO . FULGURA . FRANGO: words cast by this officer upon +a church bell which still rings in far away Orwell in memory of his +father--and of mine. + +By this time the little room was cold. For some reason the guns had +awakened in the Salient. An Indian trooper who had just come up, and did +not yet know the orders, blew "Lights out",--on a cavalry trumpet. +The sappers work by night. The officer turned and went his way to his +accursed trenches, leaving the verse with me. + +John McCrae witnessed only once the raw earth of Flanders hide its +shame in the warm scarlet glory of the poppy. Others have watched this +resurrection of the flowers in four successive seasons, a fresh miracle +every time it occurs. Also they have observed the rows of crosses +lengthen, the torch thrown, caught, and carried to victory. The dead may +sleep. We have not broken faith with them. + +It is little wonder then that "In Flanders Fields" has become the poem +of the army. The soldiers have learned it with their hearts, which is +quite a different thing from committing it to memory. It circulates, +as a song should circulate, by the living word of mouth, not by printed +characters. That is the true test of poetry,--its insistence on making +itself learnt by heart. The army has varied the text; but each variation +only serves to reveal more clearly the mind of the maker. The army +says, "AMONG the crosses"; "felt dawn AND sunset glow"; "LIVED and were +loved". The army may be right: it usually is. + +Nor has any piece of verse in recent years been more widely known in the +civilian world. It was used on every platform from which men were being +adjured to adventure their lives or their riches in the great trial +through which the present generation has passed. Many "replies" have +been made. The best I have seen was written in the 'New York Evening +Post'. None but those who were prepared to die before Vimy Ridge that +early April day of 1916 will ever feel fully the great truth of Mr. +Lillard's opening lines, as they speak for all Americans: + + "Rest ye in peace, ye Flanders dead. + The fight that ye so bravely led + We've taken up." + +They did--and bravely. They heard the cry--"If ye break faith, we shall +not sleep." + + + + +II. With the Guns + + +If there was nothing remarkable about the publication of "In Flanders +Fields", there was something momentous in the moment of writing it. +And yet it was a sure instinct which prompted the writer to send it to +'Punch'. A rational man wishes to know the news of the world in which he +lives; and if he is interested in life, he is eager to know how men feel +and comport themselves amongst the events which are passing. For this +purpose 'Punch' is the great newspaper of the world, and these lines +describe better than any other how men felt in that great moment. + +It was in April, 1915. The enemy was in the full cry of victory. All +that remained for him was to occupy Paris, as once he did before, and +to seize the Channel ports. Then France, England, and the world were +doomed. All winter the German had spent in repairing his plans, which +had gone somewhat awry on the Marne. He had devised his final stroke, +and it fell upon the Canadians at Ypres. This battle, known as the +second battle of Ypres, culminated on April 22nd, but it really extended +over the whole month. + +The inner history of war is written from the recorded impressions of men +who have endured it. John McCrae in a series of letters to his mother, +cast in the form of a diary, has set down in words the impressions which +this event of the war made upon a peculiarly sensitive mind. The +account is here transcribed without any attempt at "amplification", or +"clarifying" by notes upon incidents or references to places. These are +only too well known. + + + +Friday, April 23rd, 1915. + +As we moved up last evening, there was heavy firing about 4.30 on our +left, the hour at which the general attack with gas was made when the +French line broke. We could see the shells bursting over Ypres, and in +a small village to our left, meeting General----, C.R.A., of one of +the divisions, he ordered us to halt for orders. We sent forward +notifications to our Headquarters, and sent out orderlies to get in +touch with the batteries of the farther forward brigades already in +action. The story of these guns will be read elsewhere. They had a tough +time, but got away safely, and did wonderful service. One battery fired +in two opposite directions at once, and both batteries fired at point +blank, open sights, at Germans in the open. They were at times quite +without infantry on their front, for their position was behind the +French to the left of the British line. + +As we sat on the road we began to see the French stragglers--men without +arms, wounded men, teams, wagons, civilians, refugees--some by the +roads, some across country, all talking, shouting--the very picture of +debacle. I must say they were the "tag enders" of a fighting line rather +than the line itself. They streamed on, and shouted to us scraps of not +too inspiriting information while we stood and took our medicine, and +picked out gun positions in the fields in case we had to go in there +and then. The men were splendid; not a word; not a shake, and it was a +terrific test. Traffic whizzed by--ambulances, transport, ammunition, +supplies, despatch riders--and the shells thundered into the town, or +burst high in the air nearer us, and the refugees streamed. Women, +old men, little children, hopeless, tearful, quiet or excited, tired, +dodging the traffic,--and the wounded in singles or in groups. Here and +there I could give a momentary help, and the ambulances picked up as +they could. So the cold moonlight night wore on--no change save that the +towers of Ypres showed up against the glare of the city burning; and the +shells still sailed in. + +At 9.30 our ammunition column (the part that had been "in") appeared. +Major---- had waited, like Casabianca, for orders until the Germans were +500 yards away; then he started, getting safely away save for one wagon +lost, and some casualties in men and horses. He found our column, and we +prepared to send forward ammunition as soon as we could learn where the +batteries had taken up position in retiring, for retire they had to. +Eleven, twelve, and finally grey day broke, and we still waited. At +3.45 word came to go in and support a French counterattack at 4.30 A.M. +Hastily we got the order spread; it was 4 A.M. and three miles to go. + +Of one's feelings all this night--of the asphyxiated French soldiers--of +the women and children--of the cheery, steady British reinforcements +that moved up quietly past us, going up, not back--I could write, but +you can imagine. + +We took the road at once, and went up at the gallop. The Colonel rode +ahead to scout a position (we had only four guns, part of the ammunition +column, and the brigade staff; the 1st and 4th batteries were back in +reserve at our last billet). Along the roads we went, and made our place +on time, pulled up for ten minutes just short of the position, where I +put Bonfire [his horse] with my groom in a farmyard, and went forward on +foot--only a quarter of a mile or so--then we advanced. Bonfire had soon +to move; a shell killed a horse about four yards away from him, and he +wisely took other ground. Meantime we went on into the position we were +to occupy for seventeen days, though we could not guess that. I can +hardly say more than that it was near the Yser Canal. + +We got into action at once, under heavy gunfire. We were to the left +entirely of the British line, and behind French troops, and so we +remained for eight days. A Colonel of the R.A., known to fame, joined +us and camped with us; he was our link with the French Headquarters, and +was in local command of the guns in this locality. When he left us eight +days later he said, "I am glad to get out of this hell-hole." He was a +great comfort to us, for he is very capable, and the entire battle was +largely fought "on our own", following the requests of the Infantry on +our front, and scarcely guided by our own staff at all. We at once set +out to register our targets, and almost at once had to get into steady +firing on quite a large sector of front. We dug in the guns as quickly +as we could, and took as Headquarters some infantry trenches already +sunk on a ridge near the canal. We were subject from the first to a +steady and accurate shelling, for we were all but in sight, as were the +German trenches about 2000 yards to our front. At times the fire would +come in salvos quickly repeated. Bursts of fire would be made for ten +or fifteen minutes at a time. We got all varieties of projectile, from +3 inch to 8 inch, or perhaps 10 inch; the small ones usually as air +bursts, the larger percussion and air, and the heaviest percussion only. + +My work began almost from the start--steady but never overwhelming, +except perhaps once for a few minutes. A little cottage behind our ridge +served as a cook-house, but was so heavily hit the second day that we +had to be chary of it. During bursts of fire I usually took the back +slope of the sharply crested ridge for what shelter it offered. At 3 our +1st and 4th arrived, and went into action at once a few hundred yards in +our rear. Wires were at once put out, to be cut by shells hundreds and +hundreds of times, but always repaired by our indefatigable linemen. +So the day wore on; in the night the shelling still kept up: three +different German attacks were made and repulsed. If we suffered by +being close up, the Germans suffered from us, for already tales of good +shooting came down to us. I got some sleep despite the constant firing, +for we had none last night. + + + +Saturday, April 24th, 1915. + +Behold us now anything less than two miles north of Ypres on the west +side of the canal; this runs north, each bank flanked with high elms, +with bare trunks of the familiar Netherlands type. A few yards to the +West a main road runs, likewise bordered; the Censor will allow me to +say that on the high bank between these we had our headquarters; the +ridge is perhaps fifteen to twenty feet high, and slopes forward fifty +yards to the water, the back is more steep, and slopes quickly to a +little subsidiary water way, deep but dirty. Where the guns were I shall +not say; but they were not far, and the German aeroplanes that viewed +us daily with all but impunity knew very well. A road crossed over +the canal, and interrupted the ridge; across the road from us was our +billet--the place we cooked in, at least, and where we usually took our +meals. Looking to the south between the trees, we could see the ruins +of the city: to the front on the sky line, with rolling ground in the +front, pitted by French trenches, the German lines; to the left front, +several farms and a windmill, and farther left, again near the canal, +thicker trees and more farms. The farms and windmills were soon burnt. +Several farms we used for observing posts were also quickly burnt during +the next three or four days. All along behind us at varying distances +French and British guns; the flashes at night lit up the sky. + +These high trees were at once a protection and a danger. Shells that +struck them were usually destructive. When we came in the foliage was +still very thin. Along the road, which was constantly shelled "on spec" +by the Germans, one saw all the sights of war: wounded men limping +or carried, ambulances, trains of supply, troops, army mules, and +tragedies. I saw one bicycle orderly: a shell exploded and he seemed +to pedal on for eight or ten revolutions and then collapsed in a +heap--dead. Straggling soldiers would be killed or wounded, horses +also, until it got to be a nightmare. I used to shudder every time I +saw wagons or troops on that road. My dugout looked out on it. I got +a square hole, 8 by 8, dug in the side of the hill (west), roofed over +with remnants to keep out the rain, and a little sandbag parapet on +the back to prevent pieces of "back-kick shells" from coming in, or +prematures from our own or the French guns for that matter. Some straw +on the floor completed it. The ground was treacherous and a slip the +first night nearly buried----. So we had to be content with walls +straight up and down, and trust to the height of the bank for safety. +All places along the bank were more or less alike, all squirrel holes. + +This morning we supported a heavy French attack at 4.30; there had +been three German attacks in the night, and everyone was tired. We +got heavily shelled. In all eight or ten of our trees were cut by +shells--cut right off, the upper part of the tree subsiding heavily and +straight down, as a usual thing. One would think a piece a foot long +was just instantly cut out; and these trees were about 18 inches in +diameter. The gas fumes came very heavily: some blew down from the +infantry trenches, some came from the shells: one's eyes smarted, and +breathing was very laboured. Up to noon to-day we fired 2500 rounds. +Last night Col. Morrison and I slept at a French Colonel's headquarters +near by, and in the night our room was filled up with wounded. I woke up +and shared my bed with a chap with "a wounded leg and a chill". Probably +thirty wounded were brought into the one little room. + +Col.----, R.A., kept us in communication with the French General in +whose command we were. I bunked down in the trench on the top of the +ridge: the sky was red with the glare of the city still burning, and we +could hear the almost constant procession of large shells sailing over +from our left front into the city: the crashes of their explosion shook +the ground where we were. After a terribly hard day, professionally and +otherwise, I slept well, but it rained and the trench was awfully muddy +and wet. + + + +Sunday, April 25th, 1915. + +The weather brightened up, and we got at it again. This day we had +several heavy attacks, prefaced by heavy artillery fire; these bursts +of fire would result in our getting 100 to 150 rounds right on us or +nearby: the heavier our fire (which was on the trenches entirely) the +heavier theirs. + +Our food supply came up at dusk in wagons, and the water was any we +could get, but of course treated with chloride of lime. The ammunition +had to be brought down the roads at the gallop, and the more firing the +more wagons. The men would quickly carry the rounds to the guns, as +the wagons had to halt behind our hill. The good old horses would swing +around at the gallop, pull up in an instant, and stand puffing and +blowing, but with their heads up, as if to say, "Wasn't that well done?" +It makes you want to kiss their dear old noses, and assure them of a +peaceful pasture once more. To-day we got our dressing station dugout +complete, and slept there at night. + +Three farms in succession burned on our front--colour in the otherwise +dark. The flashes of shells over the front and rear in all directions. +The city still burning and the procession still going on. I dressed a +number of French wounded; one Turco prayed to Allah and Mohammed all the +time I was dressing his wound. On the front field one can see the dead +lying here and there, and in places where an assault has been they lie +very thick on the front slopes of the German trenches. Our telephone +wagon team hit by a shell; two horses killed and another wounded. I did +what I could for the wounded one, and he subsequently got well. This +night, beginning after dark, we got a terrible shelling, which kept up +till 2 or 3 in the morning. Finally I got to sleep, though it was still +going on. We must have got a couple of hundred rounds, in single or +pairs. Every one burst over us, would light up the dugout, and every hit +in front would shake the ground and bring down small bits of earth on +us, or else the earth thrown into the air by the explosion would come +spattering down on our roof, and into the front of the dugout. Col. +Morrison tried the mess house, but the shelling was too heavy, and he +and the adjutant joined Cosgrave and me, and we four spent an anxious +night there in the dark. One officer was on watch "on the bridge" (as we +called the trench at the top of the ridge) with the telephones. + + + +Monday, April 26th, 1915. + +Another day of heavy actions, but last night much French and British +artillery has come in, and the place is thick with Germans. There are +many prematures (with so much firing) but the pieces are usually spread +before they get to us. It is disquieting, however, I must say. And all +the time the birds sing in the trees over our heads. Yesterday up to +noon we fired 3000 rounds for the twenty-four hours; to-day we have +fired much less, but we have registered fresh fronts, and burned some +farms behind the German trenches. About six the fire died down, and we +had a peaceful evening and night, and Cosgrave and I in the dugout made +good use of it. The Colonel has an individual dugout, and Dodds sleeps +"topside" in the trench. To all this, put in a background of anxiety +lest the line break, for we are just where it broke before. + + + +Tuesday, April 27th, 1915. + +This morning again registering batteries on new points. At 1.30 a heavy +attack was prepared by the French and ourselves. The fire was very heavy +for half an hour and the enemy got busy too. I had to cross over to +the batteries during it, an unpleasant journey. More gas attacks in the +afternoon. The French did not appear to press the attack hard, but in +the light of subsequent events it probably was only a feint. It seems +likely that about this time our people began to thin out the artillery +again for use elsewhere; but this did not at once become apparent. At +night usually the heavies farther back take up the story, and there is +a duel. The Germans fire on our roads after dark to catch reliefs and +transport. I suppose ours do the same. + + + +Wednesday, April 28th, 1915. + +I have to confess to an excellent sleep last night. At times anxiety +says, "I don't want a meal," but experience says "you need your food," +so I attend regularly to that. The billet is not too safe either. Much +German air reconnaissance over us, and heavy firing from both sides +during the day. At 6.45 we again prepared a heavy artillery attack, but +the infantry made little attempt to go on. We are perhaps the "chopping +block", and our "preparations" may be chiefly designed to prevent +detachments of troops being sent from our front elsewhere. + +I have said nothing of what goes on on our right and left; but it is +equally part and parcel of the whole game; this eight mile front is +constantly heavily engaged. At intervals, too, they bombard Ypres. Our +back lines, too, have to be constantly shifted on account of shell fire, +and we have desultory but constant losses there. In the evening rifle +fire gets more frequent, and bullets are constantly singing over us. +Some of them are probably ricochets, for we are 1800 yards, or nearly, +from the nearest German trench. + + + +Thursday, April 29th, 1915. + +This morning our billet was hit. We fire less these days, but still +a good deal. There was a heavy French attack on our left. The "gas" +attacks can be seen from here. The yellow cloud rising up is for us a +signal to open, and we do. The wind is from our side to-day, and a good +thing it is. Several days ago during the firing a big Oxford-grey dog, +with beautiful brown eyes, came to us in a panic. He ran to me, and +pressed his head HARD against my leg. So I got him a safe place and he +sticks by us. We call him Fleabag, for he looks like it. + +This night they shelled us again heavily for some hours--the same +shorts, hits, overs on percussion, and great yellow-green air bursts. +One feels awfully irritated by the constant din--a mixture of anger and +apprehension. + + + +Friday, April 30th, 1915. + +Thick mist this morning, and relative quietness; but before it cleared +the Germans started again to shell us. At 10 it cleared, and from 10 to +2 we fired constantly. The French advanced, and took some ground on our +left front and a batch of prisoners. This was at a place we call Twin +Farms. Our men looked curiously at the Boches as they were marched +through. Some better activity in the afternoon by the Allies' +aeroplanes. The German planes have had it too much their way lately. +Many of to-day's shells have been very large--10 or 12 inch; a lot of +tremendous holes dug in the fields just behind us. + + + +Saturday, May 1st, 1915. + +May day! Heavy bombardment at intervals through the day. Another +heavy artillery preparation at 3.25, but no French advance. We fail +to understand why, but orders go. We suffered somewhat during the day. +Through the evening and night heavy firing at intervals. + + + +Sunday, May 2nd, 1915. + +Heavy gunfire again this morning. Lieut. H---- was killed at the guns. +His diary's last words were, "It has quieted a little and I shall try to +get a good sleep." I said the Committal Service over him, as well as +I could from memory. A soldier's death! Batteries again registering +barrages or barriers of fire at set ranges. At 3 the Germans attacked, +preceded by gas clouds. Fighting went on for an hour and a half, during +which their guns hammered heavily with some loss to us. The French lines +are very uneasy, and we are correspondingly anxious. The infantry fire +was very heavy, and we fired incessantly, keeping on into the night. +Despite the heavy fire I got asleep at 12, and slept until daylight +which comes at 3. + + + +Monday, May 3rd, 1915. + +A clear morning, and the accursed German aeroplanes over our positions +again. They are usually fired at, but no luck. To-day a shell on our +hill dug out a cannon ball about six inches in diameter--probably of +Napoleon's or earlier times--heavily rusted. A German attack began, but +half an hour of artillery fire drove it back. Major----, R.A., was up +forward, and could see the German reserves. Our 4th was turned on: first +round 100 over; shortened and went into gunfire, and his report was +that the effect was perfect. The same occurred again in the evening, and +again at midnight. The Germans were reported to be constantly massing +for attack, and we as constantly "went to them". The German guns shelled +us as usual at intervals. This must get very tiresome to read; but +through it all, it must be mentioned that the constantly broken +communications have to be mended, rations and ammunition brought up, +the wounded to be dressed and got away. Our dugouts have the French +Engineers and French Infantry next door by turns. They march in and +out. The back of the hill is a network of wires, so that one has to go +carefully. + + + +Tuesday, May 4th, 1915. + +Despite intermittent shelling and some casualties the quietest day yet; +but we live in an uneasy atmosphere as German attacks are constantly +being projected, and our communications are interrupted and scrappy. We +get no news of any sort and have just to sit tight and hold on. Evening +closed in rainy and dark. Our dugout is very slenderly provided against +it, and we get pretty wet and very dirty. In the quieter morning hours +we get a chance of a wash and occasionally a shave. + + + +Wednesday, May 5th, 1915. + +Heavily hammered in the morning from 7 to 9, but at 9 it let up; the +sun came out and things looked better. Evidently our line has again been +thinned of artillery and the requisite minimum to hold is left. There +were German attacks to our right, just out of our area. Later on we and +they both fired heavily, the first battery getting it especially +hot. The planes over us again and again, to coach the guns. An attack +expected at dusk, but it turned only to heavy night shelling, so that +with our fire, theirs, and the infantry cracking away constantly, we got +sleep in small quantity all night; bullets whizzing over us constantly. +Heavy rain from 5 to 8, and everything wet except the far-in corner of +the dugout, where we mass our things to keep them as dry as we may. + + + +Thursday, May 6th, 1915. + +After the rain a bright morning; the leaves and blossoms are coming out. +We ascribe our quietude to a welcome flock of allied planes which are +over this morning. The Germans attacked at eleven, and again at six in +the afternoon, each meaning a waking up of heavy artillery on the whole +front. In the evening we had a little rain at intervals, but it was +light. + + + +Friday, May 7th, 1915. + +A bright morning early, but clouded over later. The Germans gave it to +us very heavily. There was heavy fighting to the south-east of us. Two +attacks or threats, and we went in again. + + + +Saturday, May 8th, 1915. + +For the last three days we have been under British divisional control, +and supporting our own men who have been put farther to the left, till +they are almost in front of us. It is an added comfort. We have four +officers out with various infantry regiments for observation and +co-operation; they have to stick it in trenches, as all the houses and +barns are burned. The whole front is constantly ablaze with big gunfire; +the racket never ceases. We have now to do most of the work for our +left, as our line appears to be much thinner than it was. A German +attack followed the shelling at 7; we were fighting hard till 12, and +less regularly all the afternoon. We suffered much, and at one time were +down to seven guns. Of these two were smoking at every joint, and the +levers were so hot that the gunners used sacking for their hands. The +pace is now much hotter, and the needs of the infantry for fire more +insistent. The guns are in bad shape by reason of dirt, injuries, and +heat. The wind fortunately blows from us, so there is no gas, but the +attacks are still very heavy. Evening brought a little quiet, but very +disquieting news (which afterwards proved untrue); and we had to face +a possible retirement. You may imagine our state of mind, unable to get +anything sure in the uncertainty, except that we should stick out as +long as the guns would fire, and we could fire them. That sort of night +brings a man down to his "bare skin", I promise you. The night was very +cold, and not a cheerful one. + + + +Sunday, May 9th, 1915. + +At 4 we were ordered to get ready to move, and the Adjutant picked out +new retirement positions; but a little later better news came, and the +daylight and sun revived us a bit. As I sat in my dugout a little white +and black dog with tan spots bolted in over the parapet, during heavy +firing, and going to the farthest corner began to dig furiously. Having +scraped out a pathetic little hole two inches deep, she sat down and +shook, looking most plaintively at me. A few minutes later, her owner +came along, a French soldier. Bissac was her name, but she would not +leave me at the time. When I sat down a little later, she stole out and +shyly crawled in between me and the wall; she stayed by me all day, and +I hope got later on to safe quarters. + +Firing kept up all day. In thirty hours we had fired 3600 rounds, and +at times with seven, eight, or nine guns; our wire cut and repaired +eighteen times. Orders came to move, and we got ready. At dusk we got +the guns out by hand, and all batteries assembled at a given spot in +comparative safety. We were much afraid they would open on us, for at 10 +o'clock they gave us 100 or 150 rounds, hitting the trench parapet again +and again. However, we were up the road, the last wagon half a mile +away before they opened. One burst near me, and splattered some pieces +around, but we got clear, and by 12 were out of the usual fire zone. +Marched all night, tired as could be, but happy to be clear. + +I was glad to get on dear old Bonfire again. We made about sixteen +miles, and got to our billets at dawn. I had three or four hours' +sleep, and arose to a peaceful breakfast. We shall go back to the line +elsewhere very soon, but it is a present relief, and the next place is +sure to be better, for it cannot be worse. Much of this narrative is +bald and plain, but it tells our part in a really great battle. I have +only had hasty notes to go by; in conversation there is much one could +say that would be of greater interest. Heard of the 'Lusitania' disaster +on our road out. A terrible affair! + + + + +Here ends the account of his part in this memorable battle, + + + + +And here follow some general observations upon the experience: + + + +Northern France, May 10th, 1915. + +We got here to refit and rest this morning at 4, having marched last +night at 10. The general impression in my mind is of a nightmare. We +have been in the most bitter of fights. For seventeen days and seventeen +nights none of us have had our clothes off, nor our boots even, except +occasionally. In all that time while I was awake, gunfire and rifle fire +never ceased for sixty seconds, and it was sticking to our utmost by a +weak line all but ready to break, knowing nothing of what was going on, +and depressed by reports of anxious infantry. The men and the divisions +are worthy of all praise that can be given. It did not end in four days +when many of our infantry were taken out. It kept on at fever heat till +yesterday. + +This, of course, is the second battle of Ypres, or the battle of the +Yser, I do not know which. At one time we were down to seven guns, +but those guns were smoking at every joint, the gunners using cloth to +handle the breech levers because of the heat. We had three batteries in +action with four guns added from the other units. Our casualties were +half the number of men in the firing line. The horse lines and the wagon +lines farther back suffered less, but the Brigade list has gone far +higher than any artillery normal. I know one brigade R.A. that was in +the Mons retreat and had about the same. I have done what fell to hand. +My clothes, boots, kit, and dugout at various times were sadly bloody. +Two of our batteries are reduced to two officers each. We have had +constant accurate shell-fire, but we have given back no less. And +behind it all was the constant background of the sights of the dead, the +wounded, the maimed, and a terrible anxiety lest the line should give +way. + +During all this time, we have been behind French troops, and only +helping our own people by oblique fire when necessary. Our horses have +suffered heavily too. Bonfire had a light wound from a piece of shell; +it is healing and the dear old fellow is very fit. Had my first ride +for seventeen days last night. We never saw horses but with the wagons +bringing up the ammunition. When fire was hottest they had to come two +miles on a road terribly swept, and they did it magnificently. But how +tired we are! Weary in body and wearier in mind. None of our men went +off their heads but men in units nearby did--and no wonder. + + + +France, May 12th, 1915. + +I am glad you had your mind at rest by the rumour that we were in +reserve. What newspaper work! The poor old artillery never gets any +mention, and the whole show is the infantry. It may interest you to +note on your map a spot on the west bank of the canal, a mile and a half +north of Ypres, as the scene of our labours. There can be no harm in +saying so, now that we are out of it. The unit was the most advanced +of all the Allies' guns by a good deal except one French battery which +stayed in a position yet more advanced for two days, and then had to be +taken out. I think it may be said that we saw the show from the soup to +the coffee. + + + +France, May 17th, 1915. + +The farther we get away from Ypres the more we learn of the enormous +power the Germans put in to push us over. Lord only knows how many men +they had, and how many they lost. I wish I could embody on paper some of +the varied sensations of that seventeen days. All the gunners down this +way passed us all sorts of 'kudos' over it. Our guns--those behind +us, from which we had to dodge occasional prematures--have a peculiar +bang-sound added to the sharp crack of discharge. The French 75 has a +sharp wood-block-chop sound, and the shell goes over with a peculiar +whine--not unlike a cat, but beginning with n--thus,--n-eouw. The big +fellows, 3000 yards or more behind, sounded exactly like our own, but +the flash came three or four seconds before the sound. Of the German +shells--the field guns come with a great velocity--no warning--just +whizz-bang; white smoke, nearly always air bursts. The next size, +probably 5 inch howitzers, have a perceptible time of approach, an +increasing whine, and a great burst on the percussion--dirt in all +directions. And even if a shell hit on the front of the canal bank, and +one were on the back of the bank, five, eight, or ten seconds later +one would hear a belated WHIRR, and curved pieces of shell would +light--probably parabolic curves or boomerangs. These shells have a +great back kick; from the field gun shrapnel we got nothing BEHIND the +shell--all the pieces go forward. From the howitzers, the danger is +almost as great behind as in front if they burst on percussion. Then the +large shrapnel--air-burst--have a double explosion, as if a giant shook +a wet sail for two flaps; first a dark green burst of smoke; then +a lighter yellow burst goes out from the centre, forwards. I do not +understand the why of it. + +Then the 10-inch shells: a deliberate whirring course--a deafening +explosion--black smoke, and earth 70 or 80 feet in the air. These always +burst on percussion. The constant noise of our own guns is really worse +on the nerves than the shell; there is the deafening noise, and the +constant whirr of shells going overhead. The earth shakes with every +nearby gun and every close shell. I think I may safely enclose a cross +section of our position. The left is the front: a slope down of 20 feet +in 100 yards to the canal, a high row of trees on each bank, then a +short 40 yards slope up to the summit of the trench, where the brain of +the outfit was; then a telephone wired slope, and on the sharp slope, +the dugouts, including my own. The nondescript affair on the low slope +is the gun position, behind it the men's shelter pits. Behind my dugout +was a rapid small stream, on its far bank a row of pollard willows, then +30 yards of field, then a road with two parallel rows of high trees. +Behind this again, several hundred yards of fields to cross before the +main gun positions are reached. + +More often fire came from three quarters left, and because our ridge +died away there was a low spot over which they could come pretty +dangerously. The road thirty yards behind us was a nightmare to me. +I saw all the tragedies of war enacted there. A wagon, or a bunch of +horses, or a stray man, or a couple of men, would get there just in time +for a shell. One would see the absolute knock-out, and the obviously +lightly wounded crawling off on hands and knees; or worse yet, at night, +one would hear the tragedy--"that horse scream"--or the man's moan. All +our own wagons had to come there (one every half hour in smart action), +be emptied, and the ammunition carried over by hand. Do you wonder that +the road got on our nerves? On this road, too, was the house where we +took our meals. It was hit several times, windows all blown in by nearby +shells, but one end remained for us. + +Seventeen days of Hades! At the end of the first day if anyone had told +us we had to spend seventeen days there, we would have folded our hands +and said it could not be done. On the fifteenth day we got orders to +go out, but that was countermanded in two hours. To the last we could +scarcely believe we were actually to get out. The real audacity of the +position was its safety; the Germans knew to a foot where we were. I +think I told you of some of the "you must stick it out" messages we got +from our [French] General,--they put it up to us. It is a wonder to me +that we slept when, and how, we did. If we had not slept and eaten as +well as possible we could not have lasted. And while we were doing +this, the London office of a Canadian newspaper cabled home "Canadian +Artillery in reserve." Such is fame! + + + +Thursday, May 27th, 1915. + +Day cloudy and chilly. We wore our greatcoats most of the afternoon, +and looked for bits of sunlight to get warm. About two o'clock the heavy +guns gave us a regular "black-smithing". Every time we fired we drew a +perfect hornet's nest about our heads. While attending to a casualty, +a shell broke through both sides of the trench, front and back, about +twelve feet away. The zigzag of the trench was between it and us, and we +escaped. From my bunk the moon looks down at me, and the wind whistles +along the trench like a corridor. As the trenches run in all directions +they catch the wind however it blows, so one is always sure of a good +draught. We have not had our clothes off since last Saturday, and there +is no near prospect of getting them off. + + + +Friday, May 28th, 1915. + +Warmer this morning and sunny, a quiet morning, as far as we were +concerned. One battery fired twenty rounds and the rest "sat tight". +Newspapers which arrive show that up to May 7th, the Canadian public has +made no guess at the extent of the battle of Ypres. The Canadian +papers seem to have lost interest in it after the first four days; this +regardless of the fact that the artillery, numerically a quarter of +the division, was in all the time. One correspondent writes from the +Canadian rest camp, and never mentions Ypres. Others say they hear heavy +bombarding which appears to come from Armentieres. + + + + +A few strokes will complete the picture: + + + +Wednesday, April 29th*, 1915. + +This morning is the sixth day of this fight; it has been constant, +except that we got good chance to sleep for the last two nights. Our +men have fought beyond praise. Canadian soldiers have set a standard for +themselves which will keep posterity busy to surpass. And the War Office +published that the 4.1 guns captured were Canadian. They were not: the +division has not lost a gun so far by capture. We will make a good job +of it--if we can. + + + * [sic] This should read April 28th.--A. L., 1995. + + + +May 1st, 1915. + +This is the ninth day that we have stuck to the ridge, and the batteries +have fought with a steadiness which is beyond all praise. If I could say +what our casualties in men, guns, and horses were, you would see at a +glance it has been a hot corner; but we have given better than we +got, for the German casualties from this front have been largely from +artillery, except for the French attack of yesterday and the day before, +when they advanced appreciably on our left. The front, however, just +here remains where it was, and the artillery fire is very heavy--I think +as heavy here as on any part of the line, with the exception of certain +cross-roads which are the particular object of fire. The first four days +the anxiety was wearing, for we did not know at what minute the German +army corps would come for us. We lie out in support of the French troops +entirely, and are working with them. Since that time evidently great +reinforcements have come in, and now we have a most formidable force of +artillery to turn on them. + +Fortunately the weather has been good; the days are hot and summer-like. +Yesterday in the press of bad smells I got a whiff of a hedgerow in +bloom. The birds perch on the trees over our heads and twitter away as +if there was nothing to worry about. Bonfire is still well. I do hope he +gets through all right. + + + +Flanders, March 30th, 1915. + +The Brigade is actually in twelve different places. The ammunition +column and the horse and wagon lines are back, and my corporal visits +them every day. I attend the gun lines; any casualty is reported by +telephone, and I go to it. The wounded and sick stay where they are till +dark, when the field ambulances go over certain grounds and collect. A +good deal of suffering is entailed by the delay till night, but it +is useless for vehicles to go on the roads within 1500 yards of the +trenches. They are willing enough to go. Most of the trench injuries are +of the head, and therefore there is a high proportion of killed in +the daily warfare as opposed to an attack. Our Canadian plots fill up +rapidly. + + + + +And here is one last note to his mother: + + +On the eve of the battle of Ypres I was indebted to you for a letter +which said "take good care of my son Jack, but I would not have you +unmindful that, sometimes, when we save we lose." I have that last happy +phrase to thank. Often when I had to go out over the areas that were +being shelled, it came into my mind. I would shoulder the box, and "go +to it". + + + + +At this time the Canadian division was moving south to take its share in +the events that happened in the La Bassee sector. Here is the record: + + + +Tuesday, June 1st, 1915. + +1-1/2 miles northeast of Festubert, near La Bassee. + +Last night a 15 pr. and a 4-inch howitzer fired at intervals of five +minutes from 8 till 4; most of them within 500 or 600 yards--a very +tiresome procedure; much of it is on registered roads. In the morning I +walked out to Le Touret to the wagon lines, got Bonfire, and rode to +the headquarters at Vendin-lez-Bethune, a little village a mile +past Bethune. Left the horse at the lines and walked back again. An +unfortunate shell in the 1st killed a sergeant and wounded two men; +thanks to the strong emplacements the rest of the crew escaped. In the +evening went around the batteries and said good-bye. We stood by while +they laid away the sergeant who was killed. Kind hands have made two +pathetic little wreaths of roses; the grave under an apple-tree, and +the moon rising over the horizon; a siege-lamp held for the book. Of +the last 41 days the guns have been in action 33. Captain Lockhart, late +with Fort Garry Horse, arrived to relieve me. I handed over, came up to +the horse lines, and slept in a covered wagon in a courtyard. We were +all sorry to part--the four of us have been very intimate and had agreed +perfectly--and friendships under these circumstances are apt to be the +real thing. I am sorry to leave them in such a hot corner, but cannot +choose and must obey orders. It is a great relief from strain, I must +admit, to be out, but I could wish that they all were. + + + + +This phase of the war lasted two months precisely, + +and to John McCrae it must have seemed a lifetime since he went into +this memorable action. The events preceding the second battle of Ypres +received scant mention in his letters; but one remains, which brings +into relief one of the many moves of that tumultuous time. + + + +April 1st, 1915. + +We moved out in the late afternoon, getting on the road a little after +dark. Such a move is not unattended by danger, for to bring horses and +limbers down the roads in the shell zone in daylight renders them liable +to observation, aerial or otherwise. More than that, the roads are now +beginning to be dusty, and at all times there is the noise which carries +far. The roads are nearly all registered in their battery books, so if +they suspect a move, it is the natural thing to loose off a few rounds. +However, our anxiety was not borne out, and we got out of the danger +zone by 8.30--a not too long march in the dark, and then for the last +of the march a glorious full moon. The houses everywhere are as dark as +possible, and on the roads noises but no lights. One goes on by the long +rows of trees that are so numerous in this country, on cobblestones and +country roads, watching one's horses' ears wagging, and seeing not much +else. Our maps are well studied before we start, and this time we +are not far out of familiar territory. We got to our new billet about +10--quite a good farmhouse; and almost at once one feels the relief of +the strain of being in the shell zone. I cannot say I had noticed it +when there; but one is distinctly relieved when out of it. + + + +Such, then, was the life in Flanders fields in which the verse was born. +This is no mere surmise. There is a letter from Major-General E. W. B. +Morrison, C.B., C.M.G., D.S.O., who commanded the Brigade at the time, +which is quite explicit. "This poem," General Morrison writes, "was +literally born of fire and blood during the hottest phase of the second +battle of Ypres. My headquarters were in a trench on the top of the bank +of the Ypres Canal, and John had his dressing station in a hole dug in +the foot of the bank. During periods in the battle men who were shot +actually rolled down the bank into his dressing station. Along from us +a few hundred yards was the headquarters of a regiment, and many times +during the sixteen days of battle, he and I watched them burying their +dead whenever there was a lull. Thus the crosses, row on row, grew +into a good-sized cemetery. Just as he describes, we often heard in the +mornings the larks singing high in the air, between the crash of the +shell and the reports of the guns in the battery just beside us. I have +a letter from him in which he mentions having written the poem to pass +away the time between the arrival of batches of wounded, and partly as +an experiment with several varieties of poetic metre. I have a sketch of +the scene, taken at the time, including his dressing station; and during +our operations at Passchendaele last November, I found time to make a +sketch of the scene of the crosses, row on row, from which he derived +his inspiration." + +The last letter from the Front is dated June 1st, 1915. Upon that day he +was posted to No. 3 General Hospital at Boulogne, and placed in charge +of medicine with the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel as of date 17th April, +1915. Here he remained until the day of his death on January 28th, 1918. + + + + +III. The Brand of War + + +There are men who pass through such scenes unmoved. If they have +eyes, they do not see; and ears, they do not hear. But John McCrae was +profoundly moved, and bore in his body until the end the signs of his +experience. Before taking up his new duties he made a visit to the +hospitals in Paris to see if there was any new thing that might be +learned. A Nursing Sister in the American Ambulance at Neuilly-sur-Seine +met him in the wards. Although she had known him for fifteen years she +did not recognize him,--he appeared to her so old, so worn, his face +lined and ashen grey in colour, his expression dull, his action slow and +heavy. + +To those who have never seen John McCrae since he left Canada this +change in his appearance will seem incredible. He was of the Eckfords, +and the Eckford men were "bonnie men", men with rosy cheeks. It was +a year before I met him again, and he had not yet recovered from the +strain. Although he was upwards of forty years of age when he left +Canada he had always retained an appearance of extreme youthfulness. He +frequented the company of men much younger than himself, and their youth +was imputed to him. His frame was tall and well knit, and he showed +alertness in every move. He would arise from the chair with every muscle +in action, and walk forth as if he were about to dance. + +The first time I saw him he was doing an autopsy at the Montreal General +Hospital upon the body of a child who had died under my care. This must +have been in the year 1900, and the impression of boyishness remained +until I met him in France sixteen years later. His manner of dress +did much to produce this illusion. When he was a student in London he +employed a tailor in Queen Victoria Street to make his clothes; but with +advancing years he neglected to have new measurements taken or to alter +the pattern of his cloth. To obtain a new suit was merely to write a +letter, and he was always economical of time. In those days jackets were +cut short, and he adhered to the fashion with persistent care. + +This appearance of youth at times caused chagrin to those patients who +had heard of his fame as a physician, and called upon him for the +first time. In the Royal Victoria Hospital, after he had been appointed +physician, he entered the wards and asked a nurse to fetch a screen so +that he might examine a patient in privacy. + +"Students are not allowed to use screens," the young woman warned him +with some asperity in her voice. + +If I were asked to state briefly the impression which remains with me +most firmly, I should say it was one of continuous laughter. That is not +true, of course, for in repose his face was heavy, his countenance more +than ruddy; it was even of a "choleric" cast, and at times almost livid, +especially when he was recovering from one of those attacks of asthma +from which he habitually suffered. But his smile was his own, and it was +ineffable. It filled the eyes, and illumined the face. It was the smile +of sheer fun, of pure gaiety, of sincere playfulness, innocent of irony; +with a tinge of sarcasm--never. When he allowed himself to speak of +meanness in the profession, of dishonesty in men, of evil in the world, +his face became formidable. The glow of his countenance deepened; his +words were bitter, and the tones harsh. But the indignation would +not last. The smile would come back. The effect was spoiled. Everyone +laughed with him. + +After his experience at the front the old gaiety never returned. There +were moments of irascibility and moods of irritation. The desire for +solitude grew upon him, and with Bonfire and Bonneau he would go apart +for long afternoons far afield by the roads and lanes about Boulogne. +The truth is: he felt that he and all had failed, and that the torch +was thrown from failing hands. We have heard much of the suffering, the +misery, the cold, the wet, the gloom of those first three winters; but +no tongue has yet uttered the inner misery of heart that was bred of +those three years of failure to break the enemy's force. + +He was not alone in this shadow of deep darkness. Givenchy, Festubert, +Neuve-Chapelle, Ypres, Hooge, the Somme--to mention alone the battles in +which up to that time the Canadian Corps had been engaged--all ended in +failure; and to a sensitive and foreboding mind there were sounds and +signs that it would be given to this generation to hear the pillars and +fabric of Empire come crashing into the abysm of chaos. He was not at +the Somme in that October of 1916, but those who returned up north +with the remnants of their division from that place of slaughter will +remember that, having done all men could do, they felt like deserters +because they had not left their poor bodies dead upon the field along +with friends of a lifetime, comrades of a campaign. This is no mere +matter of surmise. The last day I spent with him we talked of those +things in his tent, and I testify that it is true. + + + + +IV. Going to the Wars + + +John McCrae went to the war without illusions. At first, like many +others of his age, he did not "think of enlisting", although "his +services are at the disposal of the Country if it needs them." + +In July, 1914, he was at work upon the second edition of the 'Text-Book +of Pathology' by Adami and McCrae, published by Messrs. Lea and Febiger, +and he had gone to Philadelphia to read the proofs. He took them to +Atlantic City where he could "sit out on the sand, and get sunshine and +oxygen, and work all at once." + +It was a laborious task, passing eighty to a hundred pages of highly +technical print each day. Then there was the index, between six and +seven thousand items. "I have," so he writes, "to change every item in +the old index and add others. I have a pile of pages, 826 in all. I +look at the index, find the old page among the 826, and then change the +number. This about 7000 times, so you may guess the drudgery." On July +15th, the work was finished, registered, and entrusted to the mail with +a special delivery stamp. The next day he wrote the preface, "which +really finished the job." In very truth his scientific work was done. + +It was now midsummer. The weather was hot. He returned to Montreal. +Practice was dull. He was considering a voyage to Havre and "a little +trip with Dr. Adami" when he arrived. On July 29th, he left Canada "for +better or worse. With the world so disturbed," he records, "I would +gladly have stayed more in touch with events, but I dare say one is just +as happy away from the hundred conflicting reports." The ship was the +'Scotian' of the Allan Line, and he "shared a comfortable cabin with a +professor of Greek," who was at the University in his own time. + +For one inland born, he had a keen curiosity about ships and the sea. +There is a letter written when he was thirteen years of age in which +he gives an account of a visit to a naval exhibition in London. He +describes the models which he saw, and gives an elaborate table of +names, dimensions, and tonnage. He could identify the house flags and +funnels of all the principal liners; he could follow a ship through all +her vicissitudes and change of ownership. When he found himself in a +seaport town his first business was to visit the water front and take +knowledge of the vessels that lay in the stream or by the docks. One +voyage he made to England was in a cargo ship. With his passion for +work he took on the duties of surgeon, and amazed the skipper with a +revelation of the new technique in operations which he himself had been +accustomed to perform by the light of experience alone. + +On the present and more luxurious voyage, he remarks that the decks were +roomy, the ship seven years old, and capable of fifteen knots an hour, +the passengers pleasant, and including a large number of French. All now +know only too well the nature of the business which sent those ardent +spirits flocking home to their native land. + +Forty-eight hours were lost in fog. The weather was too thick for making +the Straits, and the 'Scotian' proceeded by Cape Race on her way to +Havre. Under date of August 5-6 the first reference to the war appears: +"All is excitement; the ship runs without lights. Surely the German +kaiser has his head in the noose at last: it will be a terrible war, and +the finish of one or the other. I am afraid my holiday trip is knocked +galley west; but we shall see." The voyage continues. A "hundred miles +from Moville we turned back, and headed South for Queenstown; thence to +the Channel; put in at Portland; a squadron of battleships; arrived here +this morning." + +The problem presented itself to him as to many another. The decision was +made. To go back to America was to go back from the war. Here are the +words: "It seems quite impossible to return, and I do not think I +should try. I would not feel quite comfortable over it. I am cabling to +Morrison at Ottawa, that I am available either as combatant or medical +if they need me. I do not go to it very light-heartedly, but I think it +is up to me." + +It was not so easy in those days to get to the war, as he and many +others were soon to discover. There was in Canada at the time a small +permanent force of 3000 men, a military college, a Headquarters staff, +and divisional staff for the various districts into which the country +was divided. In addition there was a body of militia with a strength of +about 60,000 officers and other ranks. Annual camps were formed at which +all arms of the service were represented, and the whole was a very good +imitation of service conditions. Complete plans for mobilization were +in existence, by which a certain quota, according to the establishment +required, could be detailed from each district. But upon the outbreak +of war the operations were taken in hand by a Minister of Militia who +assumed in his own person all those duties usually assigned to the +staff. He called to his assistance certain business and political +associates, with the result that volunteers who followed military +methods did not get very far. + +Accordingly we find it written in John McCrae's diary from London: +"Nothing doing here. I have yet no word from the Department at Ottawa, +but I try to be philosophical until I hear from Morrison. If they want +me for the Canadian forces, I could use my old Sam Browne belt, sword, +and saddle if it is yet extant. At times I wish I could go home with a +clear conscience." + +He sailed for Canada in the 'Calgarian' on August 28th, having received +a cablegram from Colonel Morrison, that he had been provisionally +appointed surgeon to the 1st Brigade Artillery. The night he arrived in +Montreal I dined with him at the University Club, and he was aglow with +enthusiasm over this new adventure. He remained in Montreal for a few +days, and on September 9th, joined the unit to which he was attached as +medical officer. Before leaving Montreal he wrote to his sister Geills: + +"Out on the awful old trail again! And with very mixed feelings, but +some determination. I am off to Val-cartier to-night. I was really +afraid to go home, for I feared it would only be harrowing for Mater, +and I think she agrees. We can hope for happier times. Everyone most +kind and helpful: my going does not seem to surprise anyone. I know you +will understand it is hard to go home, and perhaps easier for us all +that I do not. I am in good hope of coming back soon and safely: that, I +am glad to say, is in other and better hands than ours." + + + + +V. South Africa + + +In the Autumn of 1914, after John McCrae had gone over-seas, I was in a +warehouse in Montreal, in which one might find an old piece of mahogany +wood. His boxes were there in storage, with his name plainly printed +upon them. The storeman, observing my interest, remarked: "This Doctor +McCrae cannot be doing much business; he is always going to the wars." +The remark was profoundly significant of the state of mind upon the +subject of war which prevailed at the time in Canada in more intelligent +persons. To this storeman war merely meant that the less usefully +employed members of the community sent their boxes to him for +safe-keeping until their return. War was a great holiday from work; and +he had a vague remembrance that some fifteen years before this customer +had required of him a similar service when the South African war broke +out. + +Either 'in esse' or 'in posse' John McCrae had "always been going to the +wars." At fourteen years of age he joined the Guelph Highland Cadets, +and rose to the rank of 1st Lieutenant. As his size and strength +increased he reverted to the ranks and transferred to the Artillery. In +due time he rose from gunner to major. The formal date of his "Gazette" +is 17-3-02 as they write it in the army; but he earned his rank in South +Africa. + +War was the burden of his thought; war and death the theme of his verse. +At the age of thirteen we find him at a gallery in Nottingham, writing +this note: "I saw the picture of the artillery going over the trenches +at Tel-el-Kebir. It is a good picture; but there are four teams on the +guns. Perhaps an extra one had to be put on." If his nomenclature was +not correct, the observation of the young artillerist was exact. Such +excesses were not permitted in his father's battery in Guelph, Ontario. +During this same visit his curiosity led him into the House of Lords, +and the sum of his written observation is, "When someone is speaking no +one seems to listen at all." + +His mother I never knew. Canada is a large place. With his father I +had four hours' talk from seven to eleven one June evening in London +in 1917. At the time I was on leave from France to give the Cavendish +Lecture, a task which demanded some thought; and after two years in the +army it was a curious sensation--watching one's mind at work again. +The day was Sunday. I had walked down to the river to watch the flowing +tide. To one brought up in a country of streams and a moving sea the +curse of Flanders is her stagnant waters. It is little wonder the exiles +from the Judaean hillsides wept beside the slimy River. + +The Thames by evening in June, memories that reached from Tacitus to +Wordsworth, the embrasure that extends in front of the Egyptian obelisk +for a standing place, and some children "swimming a dog";--that was the +scene and circumstance of my first meeting with his father. A man +of middle age was standing by. He wore the flashings of a +Lieutenant-Colonel and for badges the Artillery grenades. He seemed +a friendly man; and under the influence of the moment, which he also +surely felt, I spoke to him. + +"A fine river,"--That was a safe remark. + +"But I know a finer." + +"Pharpar and Abana?" I put the stranger to the test. + +"No," he said. "The St. Lawrence is not of Damascus." He had answered to +the sign, and looked at my patches. + +"I have a son in France, myself," he said. "His name is McCrae." + +"Not John McCrae?" + +"John McCrae is my son." + +The resemblance was instant, but this was an older man than at first +sight he seemed to be. I asked him to dinner at Morley's, my place of +resort for a length of time beyond the memory of all but the oldest +servants. He had already dined but he came and sat with me, and told me +marvellous things. + +David McCrae had raised, and trained, a field battery in Guelph, and +brought it overseas. He was at the time upwards of seventy years of age, +and was considered on account of years alone "unfit" to proceed to the +front. For many years he had commanded a field battery in the Canadian +militia, went on manoeuvres with his "cannons", and fired round shot. +When the time came for using shells he bored the fuse with a gimlet; and +if the gimlet were lost in the grass, the gun was out of action until +the useful tool could be found. This "cannon ball" would travel over the +country according to the obstacles it encountered and, "if it struck a +man, it might break his leg." + +In such a martial atmosphere the boy was brought up, and he was early +nourished with the history of the Highland regiments. Also from his +father he inherited, or had instilled into him, a love of the out of +doors, a knowledge of trees, and plants, a sympathy with birds and +beasts, domestic and wild. When the South African war broke out a +contingent was dispatched from Canada, but it was so small that few of +those desiring to go could find a place. This explains the genesis of +the following letter: + + +I see by to-night's bulletin that there is to be no second contingent. I +feel sick with disappointment, and do not believe that I have ever been +so disappointed in my life, for ever since this business began I am +certain there have not been fifteen minutes of my waking hours that it +has not been in my mind. It has to come sooner or later. One campaign +might cure me, but nothing else ever will, unless it should be old age. +I regret bitterly that I did not enlist with the first, for I doubt if +ever another chance will offer like it. This is not said in ignorance of +what the hardships would be. + +I am ashamed to say I am doing my work in a merely mechanical way. If +they are taking surgeons on the other side, I have enough money to get +myself across. If I knew any one over there who could do anything, I +would certainly set about it. If I can get an appointment in England +by going, I will go. My position here I do not count as an old boot in +comparison. + + +In the end he accomplished the desire of his heart, and sailed on the +'Laurentian'. Concerning the voyage one transcription will be enough: + + +On orderly duty. I have just been out taking the picket at 11.30 P.M. In +the stables the long row of heads in the half-darkness, the creaking of +the ship, the shivering of the hull from the vibration of the engines, +the sing of a sentry on the spar deck to some passer-by. Then to the +forward deck: the sky half covered with scudding clouds, the stars +bright in the intervals, the wind whistling a regular blow that tries +one's ears, the constant swish as she settles down to a sea; and, +looking aft, the funnel with a wreath of smoke trailing away off into +the darkness on the starboard quarter; the patch of white on the funnel +discernible dimly; the masts drawing maps across the sky as one looks +up; the clank of shovels coming up through the ventilators,--if you have +ever been there, you know it all. + +There was a voluntary service at six; two ships' lanterns and the men +all around, the background of sky and sea, and the strains of "Nearer +my God to Thee" rising up in splendid chorus. It was a very effective +scene, and it occurred to me that THIS was "the rooibaatjees singing on +the road," as the song says. + + + + +The next entry is from South Africa: + + + +Green Point Camp, Capetown, + +February 25th, 1900. + +You have no idea of the WORK. Section commanders live with their +sections, which is the right way. It makes long hours. I never knew a +softer bed than the ground is these nights. I really enjoy every minute +though there is anxiety. We have lost all our spare horses. We have only +enough to turn out the battery and no more. + + +After a description of a number of the regiments camped near by them, he +speaks of the Indian troops, and then says: + + +We met the High Priest of it all, and I had a five minutes' chat with +him--Kipling I mean. He visited the camp. He looks like his pictures, +and is very affable. He told me I spoke like a Winnipeger. He said we +ought to "fine the men for drinking unboiled water. Don't give them +C.B.; it is no good. Fine them, or drive common sense into them. All +Canadians have common sense." + + + + +The next letter is from the Lines of Communication: + + + +Van Wyks Vlei, + +March 22nd, 1900. + +Here I am with my first command. Each place we strike is a little more +God-forsaken than the last, and this place wins up to date. We marched +last week from Victoria west to Carnovan, about 80 miles. We stayed +there over Sunday, and on Monday my section was detached with mounted +infantry, I being the only artillery officer. We marched 54 miles in +37 hours with stops; not very fast, but quite satisfactory. My horse is +doing well, although very thin. Night before last on the road we halted, +and I dismounted for a minute. When we started I pulled on the lines but +no answer. The poor old chap was fast asleep in his tracks, and in about +thirty seconds too. + +This continuous marching is really hard work. The men at every halt just +drop down in the road and sleep until they are kicked up again in ten +minutes. They do it willingly too. I am commanding officer, adjutant, +officer on duty, and all the rest since we left the main body. Talk +about the Army in Flanders! You should hear this battalion. I always +knew soldiers could swear, but you ought to hear these fellows. I am +told the first contingent has got a name among the regulars. + + + + +Three weeks later he writes: + + + +April 10th, 1900. + +We certainly shall have done a good march when we get to the railroad, +478 miles through a country desolate of forage carrying our own +transport and one-half rations of forage, and frequently the men's +rations. For two days running we had nine hours in the saddle without +food. My throat was sore and swollen for a day or two, and I felt +so sorry for myself at times that I laughed to think how I must have +looked: sitting on a stone, drinking a pan of tea without trimmings, +that had got cold, and eating a shapeless lump of brown bread; my one +"hank" drawn around my neck, serving as hank and bandage alternately. It +is miserable to have to climb up on one's horse with a head like a +buzz saw, the sun very hot, and "gargle" in one's water bottle. It is +surprising how I can go without water if I have to on a short stretch, +that is, of ten hours in the sun. It is after nightfall that the thirst +really seems to attack one and actually gnaws. One thinks of all the +cool drinks and good things one would like to eat. Please understand +that this is not for one instant in any spirit of growling. + + +The detail was now established at Victoria Road. Three entries appear*: + + + * I only count two. . . . A. L., 1995. + + + +April 23rd, 1900. + +We are still here in camp hoping for orders to move, but they have not +yet come. Most of the other troops have gone. A squadron of the M.C.R., +my messmates for the past five weeks, have gone and I am left an orphan. +I was very sorry to see them go. They, in the kindness of their hearts, +say, if I get stranded, they will do the best they can to get a troop +for me in the squadron or some such employment. Impracticable, but kind. +I have no wish to cease to be a gunner. + + + +Victoria Road, May 20th, 1900. + +The horses are doing as well as one can expect, for the rations are +insufficient. Our men have been helping to get ready a rest camp near +us, and have been filling mattresses with hay. Every fatigue party comes +back from the hospital, their jackets bulging with hay for the horses. +Two bales were condemned as too musty to put into the mattresses, and we +were allowed to take them for the horses. They didn't leave a spear of +it. Isn't it pitiful? Everything that the heart of man and woman can +devise has been sent out for the "Tommies", but no one thinks of the +poor horses. They get the worst of it all the time. Even now we blush to +see the handful of hay that each horse gets at a feed. + + +The Boer War is so far off in time and space that a few further detached +references must suffice: + + +When riding into Bloemfontein met Lord----'s funeral at the cemetery +gates,--band, firing party, Union Jack, and about three companies. A +few yards farther on a "Tommy" covered only by his blanket, escorted +by thirteen men all told, the last class distinction that the world can +ever make. + + +We had our baptism of fire yesterday. They opened on us from the left +flank. Their first shell was about 150 yards in front--direction good. +The next was 100 yards over; and we thought we were bracketed. Some +shrapnel burst over us and scattered on all sides. I felt as if a hail +storm was coming down, and wanted to turn my back, but it was over in +an instant. The whistle of a shell is unpleasant. You hear it begin +to scream; the scream grows louder and louder; it seems to be coming +exactly your way; then you realize that it has gone over. Most of them +fell between our guns and wagons. Our position was quite in the open. + + + + +With Ian Hamilton's column near Balmoral. + + +The day was cold, much like a December day at home, and by my kit going +astray I had only light clothing. The rain was fearfully chilly. When we +got in about dark we found that the transport could not come up, and it +had all our blankets and coats. I had my cape and a rubber sheet for +the saddle, both soaking wet. Being on duty I held to camp, the others +making for the house nearby where they got poor quarters. I bunked out, +supperless like every one else, under an ammunition wagon. It rained +most of the night and was bitterly cold. I slept at intervals, keeping +the same position all night, both legs in a puddle and my feet being +rained on: it was a long night from dark at 5.30 to morning. Ten men +in the infantry regiment next us died during the night from exposure. +Altogether I never knew such a night, and with decent luck hope never to +see such another. + + +As we passed we saw the Connaughts looking at the graves of their +comrades of twenty years ago. The Battery rode at attention and gave +"Eyes right": the first time for twenty years that the roll of a British +gun has broken in on the silence of those unnamed graves. + +We were inspected by Lord Roberts. The battery turned out very smart, +and Lord Roberts complimented the Major on its appearance. He then +inspected, and afterwards asked to have the officers called out. We were +presented to him in turn; he spoke a few words to each of us, asking +what our corps and service had been. He seemed surprised that we were +all Field Artillery men, but probably the composition of the other +Canadian units had to do with this. He asked a good many questions about +the horses, the men, and particularly about the spirits of the men. +Altogether he showed a very kind interest in the battery. + + +At nine took the Presbyterian parade to the lines, the first +Presbyterian service since we left Canada. We had the right, the Gordons +and the Royal Scots next. The music was excellent, led by the brass band +of the Royal Scots, which played extremely well. All the singing was +from the psalms and paraphrases: "Old Hundred" and "Duke Street" +among them. It was very pleasant to hear the old reliables once more. +"McCrae's Covenanters" some of the officers called us; but I should not +like to set our conduct up against the standard of those austere men. + + + + +At Lyndenburg: + + +The Boers opened on us at about 10,000 yards, the fire being accurate +from the first. They shelled us till dark, over three hours. The guns on +our left fired for a long time on Buller's camp, the ones on our right +on us. We could see the smoke and flash; then there was a soul-consuming +interval of 20 to 30 seconds when we would hear the report, and about +five seconds later the burst. Many in succession burst over and all +around us. I picked up pieces which fell within a few feet. It was a +trying afternoon, and we stood around wondering. We moved the horses +back, and took cover under the wagons. We were thankful when the sun +went down, especially as for the last hour of daylight they turned all +their guns on us. The casualties were few. + +The next morning a heavy mist prevented the enemy from firing. The +division marched out at 7.30 A.M. The attack was made in three columns: +cavalry brigade on the left; Buller's troops in the centre, Hamilton's +on the right. The Canadian artillery were with Hamilton's division. The +approach to the hill was exposed everywhere except where some cover +was afforded by ridges. We marched out as support to the Gordons, the +cavalry and the Royal Horse Artillery going out to our right as a flank +guard. While we were waiting three 100-pound shells struck the top of +the ridge in succession about 50 to 75 yards in front of the battery +line. We began to feel rather shaky. + +On looking over the field at this time one could not tell that anything +was occurring except for the long range guns replying to the fire from +the hill. The enemy had opened fire as soon as our advance was pushed +out. With a glass one could distinguish the infantry pushing up in +lines, five or six in succession, the men being some yards apart. Then +came a long pause, broken only by the big guns. At last we got the order +to advance just as the big guns of the enemy stopped their fire. We +advanced about four miles mostly up the slope, which is in all about +1500 feet high, over a great deal of rough ground and over a number of +spruits. The horses were put to their utmost to draw the guns up the +hills. As we advanced we could see artillery crawling in from both +flanks, all converging to the main hill, while far away the infantry and +cavalry were beginning to crown the heights near us. Then the field +guns and the pompoms began to play. As the field guns came up to a broad +plateau section after section came into action, and we fired shrapnel +and lyddite on the crests ahead and to the left. Every now and then a +rattle of Mausers and Metfords would tell us that the infantry were at +their work, but practically the battle was over. From being an infantry +attack as expected it was the gunners' day, and the artillery seemed to +do excellent work. + +General Buller pushed up the hill as the guns were at work, and +afterwards General Hamilton; the one as grim as his pictures, the other +looking very happy. The wind blew through us cold like ice as we stood +on the hill; as the artillery ceased fire the mist dropped over us +chilling us to the bone. We were afraid we should have to spend the +night on the hill, but a welcome order came sending us back to camp, a +distance of five miles by the roads, as Buller would hold the hill, and +our force must march south. Our front was over eight miles wide and the +objective 1500 feet higher than our camp, and over six miles away. If +the enemy had had the nerve to stand, the position could scarcely have +been taken; certainly not without the loss of thousands. + + +For this campaign he received the Queen's Medal with three clasps. + + + + +VI. Children and Animals + + +Through all his life, and through all his letters, dogs and children +followed him as shadows follow men. To walk in the streets with him was +a slow procession. Every dog and every child one met must be spoken to, +and each made answer. Throughout the later letters the names Bonfire and +Bonneau occur continually. Bonfire was his horse, and Bonneau his dog. + +This horse, an Irish hunter, was given to him by John L. Todd. It was +wounded twice, and now lives in honourable retirement at a secret place +which need not be disclosed to the army authorities. One officer who +had visited the hospital writes of seeing him going about the wards with +Bonneau and a small French child following after. In memory of his love +for animals and children the following extracts will serve: + + +You ask if the wee fellow has a name--Mike, mostly, as a term of +affection. He has found a cupboard in one ward in which oakum is stored, +and he loves to steal in there and "pick oakum", amusing himself as long +as is permitted. I hold that this indicates convict ancestry to which +Mike makes no defence. + + +The family is very well, even one-eyed Mike is able to go round the yard +in his dressing-gown, so to speak. He is a queer pathetic little beast +and Madame has him "hospitalized" on the bottom shelf of the sideboard +in the living room, whence he comes down (six inches to the floor) to +greet me, and then gravely hirples back, the hind legs looking very +pathetic as he hops in. But he is full of spirit and is doing very well. + + +As to the animals--"those poor voiceless creatures," say you. I wish you +could hear them. Bonneau and Mike are a perfect Dignity and Impudence; +and both vocal to a wonderful degree. Mike's face is exactly like the +terrier in the old picture, and he sits up and gives his paw just like +Bonneau, and I never saw him have any instruction; and as for voice, +I wish you could hear Bonfire's "whicker" to me in the stable or +elsewhere. It is all but talk. There is one ward door that he tries +whenever we pass. He turns his head around, looks into the door, and +waits. The Sisters in the ward have changed frequently, but all alike +"fall for it", as they say, and produce a biscuit or some such dainty +which Bonfire takes with much gravity and gentleness. Should I chide +him for being too eager and give him my hand saying, "Gentle now," he +mumbles with his lips, and licks with his tongue like a dog to show how +gentle he can be when he tries. Truly a great boy is that same. On this +subject I am like a doting grandmother, but forgive it. + +I have a very deep affection for Bonfire, for we have been through so +much together, and some of it bad enough. All the hard spots to which +one's memory turns the old fellow has shared, though he says so little +about it. + + +This love of animals was no vagrant mood. Fifteen years before in South +Africa he wrote in his diary under date of September 11th, 1900: + + +I wish I could introduce you to the dogs of the force. The genus dog +here is essentially sociable, and it is a great pleasure to have them +about. I think I have a personal acquaintance with them all. There +are our pups--Dolly, whom I always know by her one black and one white +eyebrow; Grit and Tory, two smaller gentlemen, about the size of a pound +of butter--and fighters; one small white gentleman who rides on a horse, +on the blanket; Kitty, the monkey, also rides the off lead of the forge +wagon. There is a black almond-eyed person belonging to the Royal +Scots, who begins to twist as far as I can see her, and comes up in long +curves, extremely genially. A small shaggy chap who belongs to the Royal +Irish stands upon his hind legs and spars with his front feet--and lots +of others--every one of them "a soldier and a man". The Royal Scots have +a monkey, Jenny, who goes around always trailing a sack in her hand, +into which she creeps if necessary to obtain shelter. + +The other day old Jack, my horse, was bitten by his next neighbor; he +turned SLOWLY, eyed his opponent, shifted his rope so that he had a +little more room, turned very deliberately, and planted both heels in +the offender's stomach. He will not be run upon. + + +From a time still further back comes a note in a like strain. In 1898 he +was house physician in a children's hospital at Mt. Airy, Maryland, when +he wrote: + + +A kitten has taken up with a poor cripple dying of muscular atrophy who +cannot move. It stays with him all the time, and sleeps most of the +day in his straw hat. To-night I saw the kitten curled up under the +bed-clothes. It seems as if it were a gift of Providence that the little +creature should attach itself to the child who needs it most. + + +Of another child: + + +The day she died she called for me all day, deposed the nurse who was +sitting by her, and asked me to remain with her. She had to be held up +on account of lack of breath; and I had a tiring hour of it before she +died, but it seemed to make her happier and was no great sacrifice. Her +friends arrived twenty minutes too late. It seems hard that Death will +not wait the poor fraction of an hour, but so it is. + + +And here are some letters to his nephews and nieces which reveal his +attitude both to children and to animals. + + + +From Bonfire to Sergt.-Major Jack Kilgour + +August 6th, 1916. + +Did you ever have a sore hock? I have one now, and Cruickshank puts +bandages on my leg. He also washed my white socks for me. I am glad you +got my picture. My master is well, and the girls tell me I am looking +well, too. The ones I like best give me biscuits and sugar, and +sometimes flowers. One of them did not want to give me some mignonette +the other day because she said it would make me sick. It did not make me +sick. Another one sends me bags of carrots. If you don't know how to eat +carrots, tops and all, you had better learn, but I suppose you are just +a boy, and do not know how good oats are. + + BONFIRE His * Mark. + + + * Here and later, this mark is that of a horse-shoe. A. L., 1995. + + + +From Bonfire to Sergt.-Major Jack Kilgour + +October 1st, 1916. + +Dear Jack, + +Did you ever eat blackberries? My master and I pick them every day on +the hedges. I like twenty at a time. My leg is better but I have a lump +on my tummy. I went to see my doctor to-day, and he says it is nothing +at all. I have another horse staying in my stable now; he is black, and +about half my size. He does not keep me awake at night. Yours truly, + + BONFIRE His * Mark. + + + +From Bonfire to Margaret Kilgour, Civilian + +November 5th, 1916. + +Dear Margaret: + +This is Guy Fox Day! I spell it that way because fox-hunting was my +occupation a long time ago before the war. How are Sergt.-Major Jack and +Corporal David? Ask Jack if he ever bites through his rope at night, and +gets into the oat-box. And as for the Corporal, "I bet you" I can jump +as far as he can. I hear David has lost his red coat. I still have my +grey one, but it is pretty dirty now, for I have not had a new one for +a long time. I got my hair cut a few weeks ago and am to have new boots +next week. Bonneau and Follette send their love. Yours truly, + + BONFIRE His * Mark. + + + +In Flanders, April 3rd, 1915. + +My dear Margaret: + +There is a little girl in this house whose name is Clothilde. She is ten +years old, and calls me "Monsieur le Major". How would you like it if +twenty or thirty soldiers came along and lived in your house and put +their horses in the shed or the stable? There are not many little boys +and girls left in this part of the country, but occasionally one meets +them on the roads with baskets of eggs or loaves of bread. Most of them +have no homes, for their houses have been burnt by the Germans; but they +do not cry over it. It is dangerous for them, for a shell might hit them +at any time--and it would not be an eggshell, either. + +Bonfire is very well. Mother sent him some packets of sugar, and if ever +you saw a big horse excited about a little parcel, it was Bonfire. He +can have only two lumps in any one day, for there is not much of it. +Twice he has had gingerbread and he is very fond of that. It is rather +funny for a soldier-horse, is it not? But soldier horses have a pretty +hard time of it, sometimes, so we do not grudge them a little luxury. +Bonfire's friends are King, and Prince, and Saxonia,--all nice big boys. +If they go away and leave him, he whinnies till he catches sight of +them again, and then he is quite happy. How is the 15th Street Brigade +getting on? Tell Mother I recommend Jack for promotion to corporal if +he has been good. David will have to be a gunner for awhile yet, for +everybody cannot be promoted. Give my love to Katharine, and Jack, and +David. + +Your affectionate uncle Jack. + + + +Bonfire, and Bonneau, and little Mike, are all well. Mike is about four +months old and has lost an eye and had a leg broken, but he is a very +good little boy all the same. He is very fond of Bonfire, and Bonneau, +and me. I go to the stable and whistle, and Bonneau and Mike come +running out squealing with joy, to go for a little walk with me. When +Mike comes to steps, he puts his feet on the lowest steps and turns and +looks at me and I lift him up. He is a dear ugly little chap. + +The dogs are often to be seen sprawled on the floor of my tent. I like +to have them there for they are very home-like beasts. They never seem +French to me. Bonneau can "donner la patte" in good style nowadays, and +he sometimes curls up inside the rabbit hutch, and the rabbits seem to +like him. + +I wish you could see the hundreds of rabbits there are here on the +sand-dunes; there are also many larks and jackdaws. (These are different +from your brother Jack, although they have black faces.) There are +herons, curlews, and even ducks; and the other day I saw four young +weasels in a heap, jumping over each other from side to side as they +ran. + +Sir Bertrand Dawson has a lovely little spaniel, Sue, quite black, who +goes around with him. I am quite a favourite, and one day Sir Bertrand +said to me, "She has brought you a present," and here she was waiting +earnestly for me to remove from her mouth a small stone. It is usually a +simple gift, I notice, and does not embarrass by its value. + +Bonfire is very sleek and trim, and we journey much. If I sit down in +his reach I wish you could see how deftly he can pick off my cap and +swing it high out of my reach. He also carries my crop; his games are +simple, but he does not readily tire of them. + +I lost poor old Windy. He was the regimental dog of the 1st Batt. +Lincolns, and came to this vale of Avalon to be healed of his second +wound. He spent a year at Gallipoli and was "over the top" twice with +his battalion. He came to us with his papers like any other patient, and +did very well for a while, but took suddenly worse. He had all that care +and love could suggest and enough morphine to keep the pain down; but he +was very pathetic, and I had resolved that it would be true friendship +to help him over when he "went west". He is buried in our woods like +any other good soldier, and yesterday I noticed that some one has laid +a little wreath of ivy on his grave. He was an old dog evidently, but +we are all sore-hearted at losing him. His kit is kept should his master +return,--only his collar with his honourable marks, for his wardrobe was +of necessity simple. So another sad chapter ends. + + + +September 29th, 1915. + +Bonneau gravely accompanies me round the wards and waits for me, sitting +up in a most dignified way. He comes into my tent and sits there very +gravely while I dress. Two days ago a Sister brought out some biscuits +for Bonfire, and not understanding the rules of the game, which are bit +and bit about for Bonfire and Bonneau, gave all to Bonfire, so that +poor Bonneau sat below and caught the crumbs that fell. I can see that +Bonfire makes a great hit with the Sisters because he licks their hands +just like a dog, and no crumb is too small to be gone after. + + + +April, 1917. + +I was glad to get back; Bonfire and Bonneau greeted me very +enthusiastically. I had a long long story from the dog, delivered with +uplifted muzzle. They tell me he sat gravely on the roads a great deal +during my absence, and all his accustomed haunts missed him. He is back +on rounds faithfully. + + + + +VII. The Old Land and the New + + +If one were engaged upon a formal work of biography rather than a mere +essay in character, it would be just and proper to investigate the +family sources from which the individual member is sprung; but I must +content myself within the bounds which I have set, and leave the larger +task to a more laborious hand. The essence of history lies in the +character of the persons concerned, rather than in the feats which +they performed. A man neither lives to himself nor in himself. He is +indissolubly bound up with his stock, and can only explain himself in +terms common to his family; but in doing so he transcends the limits of +history, and passes into the realms of philosophy and religion. + +The life of a Canadian is bound up with the history of his parish, of +his town, of his province, of his country, and even with the history of +that country in which his family had its birth. The life of John McCrae +takes us back to Scotland. In Canada there has been much writing of +history of a certain kind. It deals with events rather than with the +subtler matter of people, and has been written mainly for purposes of +advertising. If the French made a heroic stand against the Iroquois, the +sacred spot is now furnished with an hotel from which a free 'bus runs +to a station upon the line of an excellent railway. Maisonneuve fought +his great fight upon a place from which a vicious mayor cut the trees +which once sheltered the soldier, to make way for a fountain upon which +would be raised "historical" figures in concrete stone. + +The history of Canada is the history of its people, not of its railways, +hotels, and factories. The material exists in written or printed form in +the little archives of many a family. Such a chronicle is in possession +of the Eckford family which now by descent on the female side bears the +honoured names of Gow, and McCrae. John Eckford had two daughters, in +the words of old Jamie Young, "the most lovingest girls he ever knew." +The younger, Janet Simpson, was taken to wife by David McCrae, 21st +January, 1870, and on November 30th, 1872, became the mother of John. To +her he wrote all these letters, glowing with filial devotion, which I am +privileged to use so freely. + +There is in the family a tradition of the single name for the males. It +was therefore proper that the elder born should be called Thomas, more +learned in medicine, more assiduous in practice, and more weighty in +intellect even than the otherwise more highly gifted John. He too is +professor of medicine, and co-author of a profound work with his master +and relative by marriage--Sir William Osler. Also, he wore the King's +uniform and served in the present war. + +This John Eckford, accompanied by his two daughters, the mother being +dead, his sister, her husband who bore the name of Chisholm, and their +numerous children emigrated to Canada, May 28th, 1851, in the ship +'Clutha' which sailed from the Broomielaw bound for Quebec. The consort, +'Wolfville', upon which they had originally taken passage, arrived in +Quebec before them, and lay in the stream, flying the yellow flag of +quarantine. Cholera had broken out. "Be still, and see the salvation of +the Lord," were the words of the family morning prayers. + +In the 'Clutha' also came as passengers James and Mary Gow; their +cousin, one Duncan Monach; Mrs. Hanning, who was a sister of Thomas +Carlyle; and her two daughters. On the voyage they escaped the usual +hardships, and their fare appears to us in these days to have been +abundant. The weekly ration was three quarts of water, two ounces of +tea, one half pound of sugar, one half pound molasses, three pounds +of bread, one pound of flour, two pounds of rice, and five pounds of +oatmeal. + +The reason for this migration is succinctly stated by the head of the +house. "I know how hard it was for my mother to start me, and I wanted +land for my children and a better opportunity for them." And yet his +parents in their time appear to have "started" him pretty well, although +his father was obliged to confess, "I never had more of this world's +goods than to bring up my family by the labour of my hands honestly, +but it is more than my Master owned, who had not where to lay His head." +They allowed him that very best means of education, a calmness of the +senses, as he herded sheep on the Cheviot Hills. They put him to the +University in Edinburgh, as a preparation for the ministry, and supplied +him with ample oatmeal, peasemeal bannocks, and milk. In that great +school of divinity he learned the Hebrew, Greek, and Latin; he studied +Italian, and French under Surenne, him of blessed memory even unto this +day. + +John Eckford in 1839 married Margaret Christie, and he went far afield +for a wife, namely from Newbiggin in Forfar, where for fourteen years +he had his one and only charge, to Strathmiglo in Fife. The marriage was +fruitful and a happy one, although there is a hint in the record of some +religious difference upon which one would like to dwell if the subject +were not too esoteric for this generation. The minister showed a +certain indulgence, and so long as his wife lived he never employed the +paraphrases in the solemn worship of the sanctuary. She was a woman of +provident mind. Shortly after they were married he made the discovery +that she had prepared the grave clothes for him as well as for herself. +Too soon, after only eight years, it was her fate to be shrouded in +them. After her death--probably because of her death--John Eckford +emigrated to Canada. + +To one who knows the early days in Canada there is nothing new in +the story of this family. They landed in Montreal July 11th, 1851, +forty-four days out from Glasgow. They proceeded by steamer to Hamilton, +the fare being about a dollar for each passenger. The next stage was +to Guelph; then on to Durham, and finally they came to the end of their +journeying near Walkerton in Bruce County in the primeval forest, from +which they cut out a home for themselves and for their children. + +It was "the winter of the deep snow". One transcription from the record +will disclose the scene: + + + At length a grave was dug on a knoll in the bush + at the foot of a great maple with a young snow-laden hemlock at the side. + The father and the eldest brother carried the box + along the shovelled path. The mother close behind was followed + by the two families. The snow was falling heavily. At the grave + John Eckford read a psalm, and prayed, "that they might be enabled + to believe, the mercy of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting + unto them that fear Him." + + +John McCrae himself was an indefatigable church-goer. There is a note in +childish characters written from Edinburgh in his thirteenth year, "On +Sabbath went to service four times." There the statement stands in all +its austerity. A letter from a chaplain is extant in which a certain +mild wonder is expressed at the regularity in attendance of an officer +of field rank. To his sure taste in poetry the hymns were a sore trial. +"Only forty minutes are allowed for the service," he said, "and it is +sad to see them 'snappit up' by these poor bald four-line things." + +On Easter Sunday, 1915, he wrote: "We had a church parade this morning, +the first since we arrived in France. Truly, if the dead rise not, we +are of all men the most miserable." On the funeral service of a friend +he remarks: "'Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God,'--what a +summary of the whole thing that is!" On many occasions he officiated in +the absence of the chaplains who in those days would have as many as +six services a day. In civil life in Montreal he went to church in the +evening, and sat under the Reverend James Barclay of St. Pauls, now +designated by some at least as St. Andrews. + + + + +VIII. The Civil Years + + +It will be observed in this long relation of John McCrae that little +mention has yet been made of what after all was his main concern in +life. For twenty years he studied and practised medicine. To the end +he was an assiduous student and a very profound practitioner. He was +a student, not of medicine alone, but of all subjects ancillary to +the science, and to the task he came with a mind braced by a sound and +generous education. Any education of real value a man must have received +before he has attained to the age of seven years. Indeed he may be left +impervious to its influence at seven weeks. John McCrae's education +began well. It began in the time of his two grandfathers at least, was +continued by his father and mother before he came upon this world's +scene, and by them was left deep founded for him to build upon. + +Noble natures have a repugnance from work. Manual labour is servitude. +A day of idleness is a holy day. For those whose means do not permit +to live in idleness the school is the only refuge; but they must prove +their quality. This is the goal which drives many Scotch boys to the +University, scorning delights and willing to live long, mind-laborious +days. + +John McCrae's father felt bound "to give the boy a chance," but the boy +must pass the test. The test in such cases is the Shorter Catechism, +that compendium of all intellectual argument. How the faithful aspirant +for the school acquires this body of written knowledge at a time when +he has not yet learned the use of letters is a secret not to be lightly +disclosed. It may indeed be that already his education is complete. Upon +the little book is always printed the table of multiples, so that the +obvious truth which is comprised in the statement, "two by two makes +four", is imputed to the contents which are within the cover. In +studying the table the catechism is learned surreptitiously, and +therefore without self-consciousness. + +So, in this well ordered family with its atmosphere of obedience, we +may see the boy, like a youthful Socrates going about with a copy of the +book in his hand, enquiring of those, who could already read, not alone +what were the answers to the questions but the very questions themselves +to which an answer was demanded. + +This learning, however, was only a minor part of life, since upon a +farm life is very wide and very deep. In due time the school was +accomplished, and there was a master in the school--let his name be +recorded--William Tytler, who had a feeling for English writing and a +desire to extend that feeling to others. + +In due time also the question of a University arose. There was a man +in Canada named Dawson--Sir William Dawson. I have written of him in +another place. He had the idea that a university had something to do +with the formation of character, and that in the formation of character +religion had a part. He was principal of McGill. I am not saying that +all boys who entered that University were religious boys when they went +in, or even religious men when they came out; but religious fathers had +a general desire to place their boys under Sir William Dawson's care. + +Those were the days of a queer, and now forgotten, controversy over +what was called "Science and Religion". Of that also I have written in +another place. It was left to Sir William Dawson to deliver the last +word in defence of a cause that was already lost. His book came under +the eye of David McCrae, as most books of the time did, and he was +troubled in his heart. His boys were at the University of Toronto. It +was too late; but he eased his mind by writing a letter. To this letter +John replies under date 20th December, 1890: "You say that after reading +Dawson's book you almost regretted that we had not gone to McGill. That, +I consider, would have been rather a calamity, about as much so as going +to Queen's." We are not always wiser than our fathers were, and in the +end he came to McGill after all. + +For good or ill, John McCrae entered the University of Toronto in 1888, +with a scholarship for "general proficiency". He joined the Faculty of +Arts, took the honours course in natural sciences, and graduated from +the department of biology in 1894, his course having been interrupted +by two severe illnesses. From natural science, it was an easy step to +medicine, in which he was encouraged by Ramsay Wright, A. B. Macallum, +A. McPhedran, and I. H. Cameron. In 1898 he graduated again, with a +gold medal, and a scholarship in physiology and pathology. The previous +summer he had spent at the Garrett Children's Hospital in Mt. Airy, +Maryland. + +Upon graduating he entered the Toronto General Hospital as resident +house officer; in 1899 he occupied a similar post at Johns Hopkins. Then +he came to McGill University as fellow in pathology and pathologist to +the Montreal General Hospital. In time he was appointed physician to the +Alexandra Hospital for infectious diseases; later assistant physician to +the Royal Victoria Hospital, and lecturer in medicine in the University. +By examination he became a member of the Royal College of Physicians, +London. In 1914 he was elected a member of the Association of American +Physicians. These are distinctions won by few in the profession. + +In spite, or rather by reason, of his various attainments John McCrae +never developed, or degenerated, into the type of the pure scientist. +For the laboratory he had neither the mind nor the hands. He never +peered at partial truths so closely as to mistake them for the whole +truth; therefore, he was unfitted for that purely scientific career +which was developed to so high a pitch of perfection in that nation +which is now no longer mentioned amongst men. He wrote much, and +often, upon medical problems. The papers bearing his name amount to +thirty-three items in the catalogues. They testify to his industry +rather than to invention and discovery, but they have made his name +known in every text-book of medicine. + +Apart from his verse, and letters, and diaries, and contributions to +journals and books of medicine, with an occasional address to students +or to societies, John McCrae left few writings, and in these there is +nothing remarkable by reason of thought or expression. He could not +write prose. Fine as was his ear for verse he could not produce that +finer rhythm of prose, which comes from the fall of proper words in +proper sequence. He never learned that if a writer of prose takes care +of the sound the sense will take care of itself. He did not scrutinize +words to discover their first and fresh meaning. He wrote in phrases, +and used words at second-hand as the journalists do. Bullets "rained"; +guns "swept"; shells "hailed"; events "transpired", and yet his +appreciation of style in others was perfect, and he was an insatiable +reader of the best books. His letters are strewn with names of authors +whose worth time has proved. To specify them would merely be to write +the catalogue of a good library. + +The thirteen years with which this century opened were the period in +which John McCrae established himself in civil life in Montreal and in +the profession of medicine. Of this period he has left a chronicle which +is at once too long and too short. + +All lives are equally interesting if only we are in possession of all +the facts. Places like Oxford and Cambridge have been made interesting +because the people who live in them are in the habit of writing, and +always write about each other. Family letters have little interest +even for the family itself, if they consist merely of a recital of the +trivial events of the day. They are prized for the unusual and for the +sentiment they contain. Diaries also are dull unless they deal with +selected incidents; and selection is the essence of every art. Few +events have any interest in themselves, but any event can be made +interesting by the pictorial or literary art. + +When he writes to his mother, that, as he was coming out of the +college, an Irish setter pressed a cold nose against his hand, that is +interesting because it is unusual. If he tells us that a professor took +him by the arm, there is no interest in that to her or to any one else. +For that reason the ample letters and diaries which cover these years +need not detain us long. There is in them little selection, little +art--too much professor and too little dog. + +It is, of course, the business of the essayist to select; but in the +present case there is little to choose. He tells of invitations to +dinner, accepted, evaded, or refused; but he does not always tell who +were there, what he thought of them, or what they had to eat. Dinner +at the Adami's,--supper at Ruttan's,--a night with Owen,--tea at the +Reford's,--theatre with the Hickson's,--a reception at the Angus's,--or +a dance at the Allan's,--these events would all be quite meaningless +without an exposition of the social life of Montreal, which is too large +a matter to undertake, alluring as the task would be. Even then, one +would be giving one's own impressions and not his. + +Wherever he lived he was a social figure. When he sat at table the +dinner was never dull. The entertainment he offered was not missed by +the dullest intelligence. His contribution was merely "stories", and +these stories in endless succession were told in a spirit of frank fun. +They were not illustrative, admonitory, or hortatory. They were just +amusing, and always fresh. This gift he acquired from his mother, who +had that rare charm of mimicry without mockery, and caricature without +malice. In all his own letters there is not an unkind comment or tinge +of ill-nature, although in places, especially in later years, there is +bitter indignation against those Canadian patriots who were patriots +merely for their bellies' sake. + +Taken together his letters and diaries are a revelation of the heroic +struggle by which a man gains a footing in a strange place in that most +particular of all professions, a struggle comprehended by those alone +who have made the trial of it. And yet the method is simple. It is all +disclosed in his words, "I have never refused any work that was given me +to do." These records are merely a chronicle of work. Outdoor clinics, +laboratory tasks, post-mortems, demonstrating, teaching, lecturing, +attendance upon the sick in wards and homes, meetings, conventions, +papers, addresses, editing, reviewing,--the very remembrance of such a +career is enough to appall the stoutest heart. + +But John McCrae was never appalled. He went about his work gaily, never +busy, never idle. Each minute was pressed into the service, and every +hour was made to count. In the first eight months of practice he +claims to have made ninety dollars. It is many years before we hear him +complain of the drudgery of sending out accounts, and sighing for the +services of a bookkeeper. This is the only complaint that appears in his +letters. + +There were at the time in Montreal two rival schools, and are yet two +rival hospitals. But John McCrae was of no party. He was the friend of +all men, and the confidant of many. He sought nothing for himself and by +seeking not he found what he most desired. His mind was single and his +intention pure; his acts unsullied by selfish thought; his aim was true +because it was steady and high. His aid was never sought for any cause +that was unworthy, and those humorous eyes could see through the bones +to the marrow of a scheme. In spite of his singular innocence, or rather +by reason of it, he was the last man in the world to be imposed upon. + +In all this devastating labour he never neglected the assembling of +himself together with those who write and those who paint. Indeed, he +had himself some small skill in line and colour. His hands were the +hands of an artist--too fine and small for a body that weighted 180 +pounds, and measured more than five feet eleven inches in height. There +was in Montreal an institution known as "The Pen and Pencil Club". No +one now living remembers a time when it did not exist. It was a peculiar +club. It contained no member who should not be in it; and no one was +left out who should be in. The number was about a dozen. For twenty +years the club met in Dyonnet's studio, and afterwards, as the result +of some convulsion, in K. R. Macpherson's. A ceremonial supper was eaten +once a year, at which one dressed the salad, one made the coffee, and +Harris sang a song. Here all pictures were first shown, and writings +read--if they were not too long. If they were, there was in an adjoining +room a tin chest, which in these austere days one remembers with +refreshment. When John McCrae was offered membership he "grabbed at +it", and the place was a home for the spirit wearied by the week's work. +There Brymner and the other artists would discourse upon writings, and +Burgess and the other writers would discourse upon pictures. + +It is only with the greatest of resolution, fortified by lack of time +and space, that I have kept myself to the main lines of his career, and +refrained from following him into by-paths and secret, pleasant places; +but I shall not be denied just one indulgence. In the great days when +Lord Grey was Governor-General he formed a party to visit Prince Edward +Island. The route 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 +do. His health was failing. He suffered from the cold. A year before his +death he writes on January 25th, 1917: + + +The cruel cold is still holding. Everyone is suffering, and the men +in the wards in bed cannot keep warm. I know of nothing so absolutely +pitiless as weather. Let one wish; let one pray; do what one will; still +the same clear sky and no sign,--you know the cold brand of sunshine. +For my own part I do not think I have ever been more uncomfortable. +Everything is so cold that it hurts to pick it up. To go to bed is a +nightmare and to get up a worse one. I have heard of cold weather in +Europe, and how the poor suffer,--now I know! + + +All his life he was a victim of asthma. The first definite attack was +in the autumn of 1894, and the following winter it recurred with +persistence. For the next five years his letters abound in references +to the malady. After coming to Montreal it subsided; but he always felt +that the enemy was around the corner. He had frequent periods in bed; +but he enjoyed the relief from work and the occasion they afforded for +rest and reading. + +In January, 1918, minutes begin to appear upon his official file +which were of great interest to him, and to us. Colonel Birkett had +relinquished command of the unit to resume his duties as Dean of the +Medical Faculty of McGill University. He was succeeded by that veteran +soldier, Colonel J. M. Elder, C.M.G. At the same time the command of No. +1 General Hospital fell vacant. Lieut.-Colonel McCrae was required +for that post; but a higher honour was in store, namely the place of +Consultant to the British Armies in the Field. All these events, and +the final great event, are best recorded in the austere official +correspondence which I am permitted to extract from the files: + + + From D.M.S. Canadian Contingents. (Major-General C. L. Foster, C.B.). + To O.C. No. 3 General Hospital, B.E.F., 13th December, 1917: + There is a probability of the command of No. 1 General Hospital + becoming vacant. It is requested, please, that you obtain + from Lieut.-Col. J. McCrae his wishes in the matter. If he is available, + and willing to take over this command, it is proposed to offer it to him. + + + O.C. No. 3 General Hospital, B.E.F., To D.M.S. Canadian Contingents, + 28th December, 1917: Lieut.-Colonel McCrae desires me to say that, + while he naturally looks forward to succeeding to the command + of this unit, he is quite willing to comply with your desire, + and will take command of No. 1 General Hospital at any time you may wish. + + + D.G.M.S. British Armies in France. To D.M.S. Canadian Contingents, + January 2nd, 1918: It is proposed to appoint Lieut.-Colonel J. McCrae, + now serving with No. 3 Canadian General Hospital, Consulting Physician + to the British Armies in France. Notification of this appointment, + when made, will be sent to you in due course. + + + D.M.S. Canadian Contingents. To O.C. No. 3 General Hospital, B.E.F., + January 5th, 1918: Since receiving your letter I have information + from G.H.Q. that they will appoint a Consultant Physician + to the British Armies in the Field, and have indicated their desire + for Lieut.-Colonel McCrae for this duty. This is a much higher honour + than commanding a General Hospital, and I hope he will take the post, + as this is a position I have long wished should be filled + by a C.A.M.C. officer. + + + D.M.S. Canadian Contingents. To D.G.M.S., G.H.Q., 2nd Echelon, + January 15th, 1918: I fully concur in this appointment, and consider + this officer will prove his ability as an able Consulting Physician. + + + Telegram: D.G.M.S., G.H.Q., 2nd Echelon. To D.M.S. Canadian Contingents, + January 18th, 1918: Any objection to Lieut.-Col. J. McCrae + being appointed Consulting Physician to British Armies in France. + If appointed, temporary rank of Colonel recommended. + + + Telegram: O.C. No. 3 General Hospital, B.E.F. To D.M.S. + Canadian Contingents, January 27th, 1918: Lieut.-Col. John McCrae + seriously ill with pneumonia at No. 14 General Hospital. + + + Telegram: O.C. No. 14 General Hospital. To O.C. No. 3 General Hospital, + B.E.F., January 28th, 1918: Lieut.-Col. John McCrae died this morning. + + +This was the end. For him the war was finished and all the glory of the +world had passed. + +Henceforth we are concerned not with the letters he wrote, but with +the letters which were written about him. They came from all quarters, +literally in hundreds, all inspired by pure sympathy, but some tinged +with a curiosity which it is hoped this writing will do something to +assuage. + +Let us first confine ourselves to the facts. They are all contained in a +letter which Colonel Elder wrote to myself in common with other friends. +On Wednesday, January 23rd, he was as usual in the morning; but in the +afternoon Colonel Elder found him asleep in his chair in the mess room. +"I have a slight headache," he said. He went to his quarters. In +the evening he was worse, but had no increase of temperature, no +acceleration of pulse or respiration. At this moment the order arrived +for him to proceed forthwith as Consulting Physician of the First Army. +Colonel Elder writes, "I read the order to him, and told him I should +announce the contents at mess. He was very much pleased over the +appointment. We discussed the matter at some length, and I took his +advice upon measures for carrying on the medical work of the unit." + +Next morning he was sleeping soundly, but later on he professed to be +much better. He had no fever, no cough, no pain. In the afternoon he +sent for Colonel Elder, and announced that he had pneumonia. There were +no signs in the chest; but the microscope revealed certain organisms +which rather confirmed the diagnosis. The temperature was rising. Sir +Bertrand Dawson was sent for. He came by evening from Wimereux, but he +could discover no physical signs. In the night the temperature continued +to rise, and he complained of headache. He was restless until the +morning, "when he fell into a calm, untroubled sleep." + +Next morning, being Friday, he was removed by ambulance to No. 14 +General Hospital at Wimereux. In the evening news came that he was +better; by the morning the report was good, a lowered temperature and +normal pulse. In the afternoon the condition grew worse; there were +signs of cerebral irritation with a rapid, irregular pulse; his mind was +quickly clouded. Early on Sunday morning the temperature dropped, and +the heart grew weak; there was an intense sleepiness. During the day the +sleep increased to coma, and all knew the end was near. + +His friends had gathered. The choicest of the profession was there, but +they were helpless. He remained unconscious, and died at half past one +on Monday morning. The cause of death was double pneumonia with massive +cerebral infection. Colonel Elder's letter concludes: "We packed his +effects in a large box, everything that we thought should go to his +people, and Gow took it with him to England to-day." Walter Gow was his +cousin, a son of that Gow who sailed with the Eckfords from Glasgow +in the 'Clutha'. At the time he was Deputy Minister in London of the +Overseas Military Forces of Canada. He had been sent for but arrived too +late;--all was so sudden. + +The funeral was held on Tuesday afternoon, January 29th, at the cemetery +in Wimereux. The burial was made with full military pomp. From the +Canadian Corps came Lieut.-General Sir Arthur Currie, the +General Officer Commanding; Major-General E. W. B. Morrison, and +Brigadier-General W. O. H. Dodds, of the Artillery. Sir A. T. Sloggett, +the Director-General of Medical Services, and his Staff were waiting at +the grave. All Commanding Officers at the Base, and all Deputy Directors +were there. There was also a deputation from the Harvard Unit headed by +Harvey Cushing. + +Bonfire went first, led by two grooms, and decked in the regulation +white ribbon, not the least pathetic figure in the sad procession. +A hundred nursing Sisters in caps and veils stood in line, and then +proceeded in ambulances to the cemetery, where they lined up again. +Seventy-five of the personnel from the Hospital acted as escort, and six +Sergeants bore the coffin from the gates to the grave. The firing party +was in its place. Then followed the chief mourners, Colonel Elder and +Sir Bertrand Dawson; and in their due order, the rank and file of No. +3 with their officers; the rank and file of No. 14 with their officers; +all officers from the Base, with Major-General Wilberforce and the +Deputy Directors to complete. + +It was a springtime day, and those who have passed all those winters in +France and in Flanders will know how lovely the springtime may be. So +we may leave him, "on this sunny slope, facing the sunset and the +sea." These are the words used by one of the nurses in a letter to a +friend,--those women from whom no heart is hid. She also adds: "The +nurses lamented that he became unconscious so quickly they could not +tell him how much they cared. To the funeral all came as we did, because +we loved him so." + +At first there was the hush of grief and the silence of sudden shock. +Then there was an outbreak of eulogy, of appraisement, and sorrow. No +attempt shall be made to reproduce it here; but one or two voices may +be recorded in so far as in disjointed words they speak for all. Stephen +Leacock, for those who write, tells of his high vitality and splendid +vigour--his career of honour and marked distinction--his life filled +with honourable endeavour and instinct with the sense of duty--a sane +and equable temperament--whatever he did, filled with sure purpose and +swift conviction. + +Dr. A. D. Blackader, acting Dean of the Medical Faculty of McGill +University, himself speaking from out of the shadow, thus appraises his +worth: "As a teacher, trusted and beloved; as a colleague, sincere and +cordial; as a physician, faithful, cheerful, kind. An unkind word he +never uttered." Oskar Klotz, himself a student, testifies that the +relationship was essentially one of master and pupil. From the head of +his first department at McGill, Professor, now Colonel, Adami, comes the +weighty phrase, that he was sound in diagnosis; as a teacher inspiring; +that few could rise to his high level of service. + +There is yet a deeper aspect of this character with which we are +concerned; but I shrink from making the exposition, fearing lest with my +heavy literary tread I might destroy more than I should discover. When +one stands by the holy place wherein dwells a dead friend's soul--the +word would slip out at last--it becomes him to take off the shoes from +off his feet. But fortunately the dilemma does not arise. The task +has already been performed by one who by God has been endowed with the +religious sense, and by nature enriched with the gift of expression; +one who in his high calling has long been acquainted with the grief +of others, and is now himself a man of sorrow, having seen with +understanding eyes, + + These great days range like tides, + And leave our dead on every shore. + +On February 14th, 1918, a Memorial Service was held in the Royal +Victoria College. Principal Sir William Peterson presided. John +Macnaughton gave the address in his own lovely and inimitable words, to +commemorate one whom he lamented, "so young and strong, in the prime of +life, in the full ripeness of his fine powers, his season of fruit and +flower bearing. He never lost the simple faith of his childhood. He +was so sure about the main things, the vast things, the indispensable +things, of which all formulated faiths are but a more or less stammering +expression, that he was content with the rough embodiment in which +his ancestors had laboured to bring those great realities to bear as +beneficent and propulsive forces upon their own and their children's +minds and consciences. His instinctive faith sufficed him." + +To his own students John McCrae once quoted the legend from a picture, +to him "the most suggestive picture in the world": What I spent I had: +what I saved I lost: what I gave I have;--and he added: "It will be in +your power every day to store up for yourselves treasures that will +come back to you in the consciousness of duty well done, of kind acts +performed, things that having given away freely you yet possess. It has +often seemed to me that when in the Judgement those surprised faces look +up and say, Lord, when saw we Thee an' hungered and fed Thee; or thirsty +and gave Thee drink; a stranger, and took Thee in; naked and clothed +Thee; and there meets them that warrant-royal of all charity, Inasmuch +as ye did it unto one of the least of these, ye have done it unto Me, +there will be amongst those awed ones many a practitioner of medicine." + +And finally I shall conclude this task to which I have set a worn but +willing hand, by using again the words which once I used before: Beyond +all consideration of his intellectual attainments John McCrae was +the well beloved of his friends. He will be missed in his place; and +wherever his companions assemble there will be for them a new poignancy +in the Miltonic phrase, + + But O the heavy change, now thou art gone, + Now thou art gone, and never must return! + + +London, + +11th November, 1918. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's In Flanders Fields and Other Poems, by John McCrae + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN FLANDERS FIELDS AND OTHER POEMS *** + +***** This file should be named 353.txt or 353.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/353/ + +Produced by A. Light, and L. Bowser + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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