J. G. M‘DOUGALD. M.D., C.M., F.A.C.S.
Especially noted for his Surgical Work following the Great Explosion, December 6, 1917.
SONS OF A. B. WISWELL, HALIFAX.
“Felt Dawn”
By Stuart McCawley
We were sitting on the beach at Mira. Just a lovely Cape Breton moonlight night. The youngsters were singing and telling yarns. One kid recited McCrae’s great poem, “In Flanders Fields,” and one of the boys who had been “over there” asked us if we knew what McCrae meant when he wrote the phrase, “Felt Dawn.” Nobody seemed to be entirely clear on the question, and we asked our friend, the veteran, to describe it for us. Here are his words:
A cold, drizzly rain that is eating through your khaki into your very heart.
A sea of mud—black, slimy, sticky, stinking mud.
The duck boards floating in ooze.
Your feet wet and heavy, and your toes squichy.