diff options
Diffstat (limited to '353-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 353-h/353-h.htm | 4410 |
1 files changed, 4410 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/353-h/353-h.htm b/353-h/353-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0a206f3 --- /dev/null +++ b/353-h/353-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4410 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + In Flanders Fields, by John Mccrae + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +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] +Last Updated: February 6, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN FLANDERS FIELDS AND OTHER POEMS *** + + + + +Produced by A. Light, L. Bowser, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + IN FLANDERS FIELDS + </h1> + <h2> + by John McCrae + </h2> + <h4> + [Canadian Poet, 1872-1918] + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + WITH AND ESSAY IN CHARACTER <br /> <br /> by Sir Andrew Macphail + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h4> + [This text is taken from the New York edition of 1919.] + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + John McCrae, physician, soldier, and poet, died in France a + Lieutenant-Colonel with the Canadian forces. + </p> + <p> + The poem which gives this collection of his lovely verse its name has + been extensively reprinted, and received with unusual enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + The volume contains, as well, a striking essay in character by his + friend, Sir Andrew Macphail. + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + {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.} + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> IN FLANDERS FIELDS + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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 +</pre> + <p> + {From a} Facsimile of an autograph copy of the poem "In Flanders Fields" + </p> + <p> + This was probably written from memory as "grow" is used in place of "blow" + in the first line. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_TOC"> Contents With Dates of Origin </a><br /><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>In Flanders Fields</b> </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0003"> The Anxious Dead </a><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0004"> The Warrior </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> + Isandlwana </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> The Unconquered Dead </a><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> The Captain </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> + The Song of the Derelict </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> Quebec </a><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> Then and Now </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> + Unsolved </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> The Hope of My Heart </a><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> Penance </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> + Slumber Songs </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> The Oldest Drama </a><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> Recompense </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> + Mine Host </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> Equality </a><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0019"> Anarchy </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> + Disarmament </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> The Dead Master </a><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> The Harvest of the Sea </a><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0023"> The Dying of Pere Pierre </a><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0024"> Eventide </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> Upon + Watts' Picture "Sic Transit" </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> A Song + of Comfort </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> The Pilgrims </a><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0028"> The Shadow of the Cross </a><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0029"> The Night Cometh </a><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0030"> In Due Season </a><br /><br /> <br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0031"> <big><b>JOHN MCCRAE</b></big> </a><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0032"> I. In Flanders Fields </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0033"> II. With the Guns </a><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0034"> Here ends the account of his part in this + memorable battle, </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> And here follow + some general observations upon the experience: </a><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0036"> A few strokes will complete the picture: </a><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> And here is one last note to his mother: </a><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> At this time the Canadian division was moving + south to take its share in </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> This + phase of the war lasted two months precisely, </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0040"> III. The Brand of War </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0041"> IV. Going to the Wars </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0042"> V. South Africa </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> + The next entry is from South Africa: </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> + The next letter is from the Lines of Communication: </a><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0045"> Three weeks later he writes: </a><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0046"> With Ian Hamilton's column near Balmoral. </a><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0047"> At Lyndenburg: </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0048"> VI. Children and Animals </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0049"> VII. The Old Land and the New </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0050"> VIII. The Civil Years </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0051"> IX. Dead in His Prime </a><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_TOC" id="link2H_TOC"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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 +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + In Flanders Fields + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Anxious Dead + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Warrior + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Isandlwana + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>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.</i> + + 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. + + <i>Golden grey on miles of sand + The dawn comes creeping down; + It's day in far off Zululand + And night in Brecon Town.</i> +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Unconquered Dead + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ". . . defeated, with great loss." +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Captain + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1797 +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>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.</i> + + 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. + + <i>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.</i> +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Song of the Derelict + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Quebec + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1608-1908 +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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? +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Then and Now + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Unsolved + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Hope of My Heart + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Delicta juventutis et ignorantius ejus, + quoesumus ne memineris, Domine." +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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." +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Penance + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Slumber Songs + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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! +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Oldest Drama + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>"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."</i> +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Recompense + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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." +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Mine Host + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Equality + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Anarchy + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Disarmament + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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." +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Dead Master + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Harvest of the Sea + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Dying of Pere Pierre + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ". . . with two other priests; the same night he died, + and was buried by the shores of the lake that bears his name." + Chronicle. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "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. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Eventide + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Upon Watts' Picture "Sic Transit" + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>"What I spent I had; what I saved, I lost; what I gave, I have."</i> +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A Song of Comfort + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>"Sleep, weary ones, while ye may — + Sleep, oh, sleep!"</i> + Eugene Field. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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." +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Pilgrims + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Shadow of the Cross + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Night Cometh + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + In Due Season + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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." +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + JOHN MCCRAE + </h2> + <h3> + An Essay in Character + </h3> + <p> + by Sir Andrew Macphail + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. In Flanders Fields + </h2> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + 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": + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "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." +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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". + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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". + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Rest ye in peace, ye Flanders dead. + The fight that ye so bravely led + We've taken up." +</pre> + <p> + They did—and bravely. They heard the cry—"If ye break faith, + we shall not sleep." + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. With the Guns + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Friday, April 23rd, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Saturday, April 24th, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Sunday, April 25th, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Monday, April 26th, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Tuesday, April 27th, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Wednesday, April 28th, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Thursday, April 29th, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Friday, April 30th, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Saturday, May 1st, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Sunday, May 2nd, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Monday, May 3rd, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Tuesday, May 4th, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Wednesday, May 5th, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Thursday, May 6th, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Friday, May 7th, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Saturday, May 8th, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Sunday, May 9th, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Here ends the account of his part in this memorable battle, + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + And here follow some general observations upon the experience: + </h2> + <p> + Northern France, May 10th, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + France, May 12th, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + France, May 17th, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + Thursday, May 27th, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Friday, May 28th, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A few strokes will complete the picture: + </h2> + <p> + Wednesday, April 29th*, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * [sic] This should read April 28th.—A. L., 1995. +</pre> + <p> + May 1st, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Flanders, March 30th, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + And here is one last note to his mother: + </h2> + <p> + 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". + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + At this time the Canadian division was moving south to take its share in + </h2> + <p> + the events that happened in the La Bassee sector. Here is the record: + </p> + <p> + Tuesday, June 1st, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 1-1/2 miles northeast of Festubert, near La Bassee. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + This phase of the war lasted two months precisely, + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + April 1st, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. The Brand of War + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "Students are not allowed to use screens," the young woman warned him with + some asperity in her voice. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. Going to the Wars + </h2> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. South Africa + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "A fine river,"—That was a safe remark. + </p> + <p> + "But I know a finer." + </p> + <p> + "Pharpar and Abana?" I put the stranger to the test. + </p> + <p> + "No," he said. "The St. Lawrence is not of Damascus." He had answered to + the sign, and looked at my patches. + </p> + <p> + "I have a son in France, myself," he said. "His name is McCrae." + </p> + <p> + "Not John McCrae?" + </p> + <p> + "John McCrae is my son." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + In the end he accomplished the desire of his heart, and sailed on the + 'Laurentian'. Concerning the voyage one transcription will be enough: + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The next entry is from South Africa: + </h2> + <p> + Green Point Camp, Capetown, + </p> + <p> + February 25th, 1900. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + After a description of a number of the regiments camped near by them, he + speaks of the Indian troops, and then says: + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The next letter is from the Lines of Communication: + </h2> + <p> + Van Wyks Vlei, + </p> + <p> + March 22nd, 1900. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Three weeks later he writes: + </h2> + <p> + April 10th, 1900. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The detail was now established at Victoria Road. Three entries appear*: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * I only count two. . . . A. L., 1995. +</pre> + <p> + April 23rd, 1900. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Victoria Road, May 20th, 1900. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The Boer War is so far off in time and space that a few further detached + references must suffice: + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0046" id="link2H_4_0046"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + With Ian Hamilton's column near Balmoral. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0047" id="link2H_4_0047"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + At Lyndenburg: + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + For this campaign he received the Queen's Medal with three clasps. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0048" id="link2H_4_0048"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. Children and Animals + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Of another child: + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + And here are some letters to his nephews and nieces which reveal his + attitude both to children and to animals. + </p> + <p> + From Bonfire to Sergt.-Major Jack Kilgour + </p> + <p> + August 6th, 1916. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + BONFIRE His * Mark. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Here and later, this mark is that of a horse-shoe. A. L., 1995. +</pre> + <p> + From Bonfire to Sergt.-Major Jack Kilgour + </p> + <p> + October 1st, 1916. + </p> + <p> + Dear Jack, + </p> + <p> + 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, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + BONFIRE His * Mark. +</pre> + <p> + From Bonfire to Margaret Kilgour, Civilian + </p> + <p> + November 5th, 1916. + </p> + <p> + Dear Margaret: + </p> + <p> + 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, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + BONFIRE His * Mark. +</pre> + <p> + In Flanders, April 3rd, 1915. + </p> + <p> + My dear Margaret: + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Your affectionate uncle Jack. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + September 29th, 1915. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + April, 1917. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0049" id="link2H_4_0049"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. The Old Land and the New + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + It was "the winter of the deep snow". One transcription from the record + will disclose the scene: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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." +</pre> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0050" id="link2H_4_0050"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. The Civil Years + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0051" id="link2H_4_0051"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. Dead in His Prime + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + This was the end. For him the war was finished and all the glory of the + world had passed. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + These great days range like tides, + And leave our dead on every shore. +</pre> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But O the heavy change, now thou art gone, + Now thou art gone, and never must return! +</pre> + <p> + London, + </p> + <p> + 11th November, 1918. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +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-h.htm or 353-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/353/ + +Produced by A. Light, L. Bowser, and David Widger + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> |