These are the bare facts as taken from records, which do not signalize the splendid self-sacrificing work of such officers as Captains W. H. L. Doane, R. P. Freeman, F. H. Palmer, and R. E. Jamieson; and such N.C.O.’s as Jenkins, Fultz and Holmes.
From beginning to end this Unit was marked by the high standard of the men that it drew, the remarkable lack of crime of even the pettiest sort, and the earnestness and whole-hearted manner in which all ranks endeavored to qualify themselves for their duties Overseas.
CHAPTER V.
17th BATTERY (6th BATTERY, C.F.A.)
BY WILFRED HEARN SYDNEY.
The 17th Battery had the unique distinction of being the only combatant Militia Unit in Nova Scotia to be accepted as a Unit of the Canadian Expeditionary Force for service Overseas in the First Canadian Contingent. On the day that war was declared between Great Britain and Germany, the Department of Militia and Defence wired its acceptance of Lieut.-Colonel H. G. McLeod’s offer of the 17th Battery, C.F.A., as a Unit for service Overseas.
The mobilization of the Battery was purely a matter of selection, for many more than the required number applied for enlistment. On August 28, 1914, the Battery left Sydney with the full war strength of 141 officers and men, four guns and 123 horses. The trip to Valcartier was uneventful. Shortly after our arrival there we were disappointed to hear that the Unit would have to be split in order that the new war establishment of six-gun Batteries might be completed. The right section of the 17th was to be amalgamated with the 19th Battery from Moncton and Woodstock, while the left section went with the 21st Battery of Westmount, Montreal. Thus Major McLeod was to command the new 6th Battery, C.E.F., keeping with him Capt. J. Geo. Piercey, while Capt. J. A. MacDonald, our own “Johnnie Angus,” was lost to us, and went to the new 5th Battery in the same Brigade.
The two weeks spent in Valcartier Camp were pleasant. The getting used to military routine, drill and ceremonials was not at that early date a hardship. The novelty had not even begun to wear off then. The reviews held by Sir Sam Hughes first and His Royal Highness the Duke of Connaught subsequently, had a certain amount of pleasure for all of us, despite adverse weather conditions. Yet it was not without a certain degree of impatience that we awaited the word to set sail for England.
Eventually, after many false alarms, the word came, and we donned full marching order to set out for Quebec and the waiting transports. What a memorable sight was that Armada congregated at Gaspe Bay! Thirty-three of our largest ocean greyhounds in full steam, ready and anxious to hasten to the assistance of our Mother Country in her hour of need. The order was signalled from the flagship to set out—last letters of farewell were hurried aboard waiting tenders, a lingering last look was taken at the shores of Canada, and the First Canadian Contingent bade farewell to the peaceful land of the Maple Leaf and set its gaze to the East where lay discord and strife.
Ocean trips generally are never very much out of the ordinary, and with the exception of one or two submarine scares, absolutely without foundation, we steamed our uneventful, out-of-the-way course to Merry England—and war. The monotony was relieved by routine, athletic competitions and musical entertainments. It was in the organization of the latter that the popular Canadian composer of present times, Gitz Rice, closely related to the Cape Breton Rices, Brent and Walter, first secured prominence in musical circles. However, if the trip was uninspiring, such could not be said of our reception at Plymouth. Bands playing, throngs cheering, the shores of the city blocked with thousands of people—England certainly did its duty that day in welcoming to its shores her Canadian sons.
Disembarkation lasted a week, but finally the “Old 17th” landed at Devonport and were soon en route for Salisbury Plains. Detrained at Amesbury we were greeted with a downpour of rain, and it was very little else we saw in the weather line during the whole of our stay on that historic plain. Mud, mud, mud, and then more mud; drill, drill, drill, and then more drill, sums up Salisbury Plains, relieved only by brief leaves to London and provincial towns. How we cursed the mud! Finally, however, we were moved into comfortable quarters at Urchfont, where we enjoyed real English hospitality and good cheer. Even the Plains had its pleasant side, though. Our first Christmas away from home was spent there, and royally did Major McLeod and his fellow officers endeavor to give us a real Christmas.