"The Red Watch": With the First Canadian Division in Flanders

by John Allister Currie

On Thursday, the 14th of October, orders came to disembark. All the ships of the Canadian fleet were there. We learned that we had been sent to Plymouth at the last minute and that train transport had to be provided for us. All kinds of rumours were afloat; one that we were to go at once to France, disembarking at Rouen, and then by train to the south of France; others said that we were to go to Egypt; and many said that was all right, if the Turks got into the war.

I went ashore with Company Sergeant-Major Radcliffe of my regiment, who is a Plymouth man. It was only when I got ashore that I learned that his bride-to-be lived in Plymouth. We drove all over the town and part of the country. This is Devonshire, the country of cider and cream. I tried them both; they are excellent. It felt good to get ashore, but the voyage was so pleasant that we were sorry to part with our good ship and our captain. We found that in England the people had been very much depressed by the war, but were recovering their spirits. The shipyards were busy, but there was hardly a home in Plymouth, Stonehouse or Devonport (three towns in one), but had some one afloat in the navy, keeping convoy, or keeping guard in the North Sea. I met the Editor of one of the Plymouth papers, a very fine man. From him I learned that the Mayor and Corporation of the town had arranged a public reception for the Canadians, but that Lord Kitchener had vetoed the proposal. He also told me of the loss of some ships on the East coast, and some German losses at sea, but said the censor would not permit publication even of our arrival. We were beginning to learn that there was a big man somewhere about who was doing things, and that his address was not far from the War Office. On the streets we met hundreds of young men route marching, some of them with arms, some in uniform, the majority without either. They were all singing "Tipperary" with its Celtic croon and minor tones. So far apparently, the war had not produced a great war poet or musician, nothing had been written anything like "Tommy Atkins" or "Soldiers of the Queen." Surely war songs were not all "Made in Germany."

Every square, and park and private lawn had its quota of soldiers drilling, all young men and all in deadly earnest. We learned also that the day we arrived some young men from Quebec, speaking French, and a Servian from Winnipeg had strayed ashore, and the announcement was made in the press that the contingent consisted principally of French Canadians and Servians who were coming to fight for the Allies. After the war is over I suppose someone will be giving the Chinese all the credit for what the Canadians did.

So far so good. We remained on board all day. The rivetters on board a huge Dreadnought, that was being built close by, chalked in huge letters on the plating a message for us, "Bravo Canadians." Our men, who were very good with semaphore signals, soon established a wireless connection with the shore and a very animated conversation was carried on between them all day. In the afternoon we presented Captain James with a memento of our voyage, expressing our pleasure in having such a good commander. We bought him the silver when we got ashore.

The next morning an officer came aboard from the staff, and we learned for the first time that General Alderson had been appointed to command the Canadian Expeditionary Force. We could see an officer on shore with a staff cap, who looked very much like General Hughes, but it turned out to be Colonel Davidson of Toronto. About noon our ship pulled into the dock, and the gangways were put out, and disembarkation began. We were ordered to move in two detachments, so I gave the right half battalion to Major Marshall with my blessing, and remained with the left half myself to see that all our stores were landed safely. We learned a good deal about transporting troops. One thing that should be looked after in future contingents is to see that each unit has its own waggons, horses and carts on its own ship. When we were embarked at Quebec our horses and waggons were taken away from us. The horses were put on board one ship, the harness on another, the waggons on another, the wheels on another, etc. It took weeks to sort everything out, and all the work done at Valcartier had been wasted.

Another thing, the men should not be sent abroad without a good equipment like the Webb. The Oliver equipment was a joke. With our facilities for producing good leather, canvas and woollen stuff in Canada there is no reason why we cannot produce an equipment just as good, if not better, than the Webb. All ammunition is now packed in clips in canvas bandoliers holding fifty rounds, and there is very little necessity for the big ammunition pouches with which equipments were burdened. An equipment made out of green chrome leather with as few straps as possible, or out of good stout drab canvas made in Canada and treated with a solution of soap and alum, so as to make it waterproof, would do just as well as the Webb. Fortunately our regiment had been given an excellent Webb equipment and it was expected the equipment for the rest of the force would be issued in England. The Division outside of our Brigade had been busy for several days staining their Oliver haversacks and kit bags with tea and making a very poor job of it.

The right half battalion shouldered their blankets, kit bags and knapsacks and started off for the station a mile away. Our rifles were boxed and would follow us. We left later on at six in the evening. It was dusk as we marched through Plymouth to the station where we had to wait an hour for our train to be made up. Soon quite a crowd gathered at the station, and everybody wanted to give my men bottles of whiskey and gin. I stopped it as well as I could, but a few who had not had a drink for two months fell by the wayside, not just then but later on. We should have tried out our men in Canada, and given them a free hand, so that the drinkers would be weeded out before coming over.

Our train came in about eight o'clock and we were told our destination was Patney Station, and that our camp was near the station. Off we started and arrived at Patney about one o'clock at night. The men enjoyed the run very much. At every station as we passed the people gathered and cheered themselves hoarse till we all thought we were real heroes. We made only about two stops till we came to Patney, one at Exeter which is one of the oldest towns in England dating from the Roman occupation. This city was the Iscea of Vaspasian's time. It was always a fortified city, previous even to the Romans, and boasts of a beautiful cathedral.

The other stop we made was at Newton Abbot. Here William of Orange was first proclaimed King of England, if I remember right, on a stone in the market square.

At Patney station we found on the station platform Major Marshall and several officers, among them Captain McGregor. They informed us that on the way up a number of the men of "A" Company (Captain McGregor's) had been taken ill, with ptomaine or some other form of poisoning, and were in a bad way. We suspected at once that some one had handed them something. We found thirty-five of them down with colic and very severe pains. Blankets had been laid in the station for them, and Dr. MacKenzie, our surgeon, did not take long getting busy attending to them. He informed me that he did not consider any cases serious, although the poor fellows were suffering much pain. We marched the left half of the battalion over the track on an overhead bridge, and found our right half waiting for us, and for transport waggons which were supposed to be on hand, to take our kit bags and blankets. The night was as dark as a wolf's mouth and the dim lights of a few lanterns showed the men standing in solid lines between the green walls of the hedges of an English lane.