Trenching at Gallipoli / The personal narrative of a Newfoundlander with the ill-fated Dardanelles expedition

Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has been preserved.
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The reader is hereby cautioned against regarding this narrative as in any way official.
It is merely a record of the personal experiences of a member of the First Newfoundland Regiment, but the incidents described all actually occurred.


Great Britain is at War.
The announcement came to Newfoundland out of a clear sky. Confirming it, came the news of the assurances of loyalty from the different colonies, expressed in terms of men and equipment. Newfoundland was not to be outdone. Her population is a little more than two hundred thousand, and her isolated position made garrisons unnecessary. Her only semblance of military training was her city brigades. People remembered that in the Boer War a handful of Newfoundlanders had enlisted in Canadian regiments, but never before had there been any talk of Newfoundland sending a contingent made up entirely of her own people and representing her as a colony. From the posting of the first notices bearing the simple message, Your King and Country Need You, a motley crowd streamed into the armory in St. John's. The city brigades, composed mostly of young, beautifully fit athletes from rowing crews, football and hockey teams, enlisted in a body. Every train from the interior brought lumbermen, fresh from the mills and forests, husky, steel-muscled, pugnacious at the most peaceful times, frankly spoiling for excitement. From the outharbors and fishing villages came callous-handed fishermen, with backs a little bowed from straining at the oar, accustomed to a life of danger. Every day there came to the armory loose-jointed, easy-swinging trappers and woodsmen, simple-spoken young men, who, in offering their keenness of vision and sureness of marksmanship, were volunteering their all.