The six days’ warning was, of course, a mere preliminary measure but definite orders at last arrived for the 219th to march out on the 12th of October at 5 a.m. Never did Halifax seem lovelier than in the bright autumn air as the Battalion marched along Barrington Street and up Spring Garden Road and through South Park Street to the Common, where a vast company of friends and well-wishers had congregated to say good-bye. Ranks were broken and the soldiers mingled freely with the people. The “Fall In” sounded, the band struck up a lively air, and the march was resumed until the gates of the docks closed behind the last file. Opportunities of further adieus were granted in the afternoon within the limit of the dock, and then for the final time the troops climbed the long gangways to the decks of the transport.
All night the Olympic lay at the pier. On Friday afternoon she moved up to Bedford Basin. Life belts were passed out and alarms practised. During the afternoon, when rumors that we were doomed to several days’ detention in the basin were at their height, the anchor was quietly raised and almost noiselessly the ship began to glide down the harbor. But the movement was quickly noticed on shore, and the tooting of tugs and the cheering of the crowds that rushed to the pier heads showed that the “boys” had not been forgotten by their friends. The shades of night were gathering in as Cape Sambro fell astern, and the twinkle of its kindly light was Nova Scotia’s farewell. Betting in New York had run as high as twenty to one that the Olympic would be sunk because the notorious German submarine U53, which had committed serious depredations off Nantucket, was reported to be in the vicinity. Whatever anxiety may have been felt by those on the bridge, seemed not in the slightest degree to have reached the troops below, who had a confidence in the British seamanship that was almost sublime.
On Tuesday night two destroyers picked up the ship and acted as consorts. Wednesday morning the coast of Ireland was in view, and Wednesday evening anchor was dropped in the Mersey, the voyage having been completed in four days and nineteen hours. We sailed on a Friday, and the thirteenth at that, but war has exploded the superstitions of the world along with many other things.
Two or three hours were required for the disembarkation. Eight trains were required for the whole Brigade, and they were started at various intervals of time. The last two carried the 219th. It was nearly midnight when the train drew into the siding at Milford Station and, resuming their packs, the men began their two miles’ march into Camp.
Witley Camp was situated on Witley Common, a sandy tract covered with scattered pines, known as Scotch fir, and with few houses in the vicinity. Milford Village was a mile and a half away, and Godalming three miles. The nearest town was Guildford, eight miles off. The county was Surrey, and the landscape among the most picturesque in all England.
After the first cold snap that greeted the troops on their arrival, milder conditions prevailed; the air became balmy; the fresh, full foliage on the trees, and the fragrance of the flowers still in bloom seemed to carry summer into December. But as November drew into December cold mists settled into the valley where Witley Camp lay, and caused an acrid chill that seemed to eat into the marrow of the bone. Influenza (known as “flu” or “grippe”) invaded the Camp. The sick parade in the morning increased by leaps and bounds; the general hospital at Bramshott and the sick detention hut of the Brigade were filled and could take no more. A special hut in the Battalion lines was secured and in a few days crowded out, and even the spare accommodation in the medical room was covered with bed boards on which lay fevered and coughing men. December will remain to the troops at Witley Camp something of a nightmare.
No one as yet seriously believed, or at least publicly announced, that the Highland Brigade would not be held together. Had not the Minister of Militia plighted his word to that effect? Had it not been a promise to the men when they enlisted? Towards the end of November, however, sinister rumors began to filter through and culminated on the 30th November in the call for the first draft for France. Immediately the Camp was in a hubbub of excitement, for the draft required 800 men from the Brigade, and this obviously meant its dismemberment. All reasonable means that might avert the blow were employed, but the order was explicit. No officers were to go except those in charge of drafts, and they were to return from France whenever their duty was accomplished. All non-commissioned officers chosen were to revert to the rank of private. Ultimately 115 went from the 219th under the command of Lieutenant King. The Brigadier addressed a few parting words, and to the strains of martial music and the skirl of the pipes the proud lads marched away leaving a thoughtful Camp behind. What was to be the fate of those who remained? Rumor again became busy, hope revived and old predictions were renewed, when once more with dramatic swiftness the axe fell and when it accomplished its business the Highland Brigade was no more. No one could have attempted to parry the blow more resolutely than the Brigadier. He felt keenly the pledges that had been given and the injustice to Nova Scotia; and his efforts were not without a measure of success. Two Battalions of the four were preserved, the 85th and the 185th. Into the 85th some 350 men, nearly all the Lieutenants and Major Rudland, were drafted from the 219th. A large number from the 193rd were put into the 185th. The 85th received orders to prepare at once to go Overseas, though this was not actually accomplished until February 10th. The 185th was “slated” for the Fifth Division, and it was to remain in Witley Camp. The remainder of the Highland Brigade were to proceed to Bramshott Camp. It was in the last week of December that the large draft, carefully selected and splendidly fit, changed their feathers from purple to red and went over to the lines of the 85th. The officers packed their kits and the happy fellowship of the Mess Room, that had lasted from the happy days of concentration in sunny Aldershot, was dissolved, alas, never in its completeness to reassemble again.
Between five and six hundred of the 219th Battalion still remained. Kits and trunks were packed, adieus paid, our temporary English home broken up, and promptly at 12 o’clock Saturday, December 30th; the Purple Feather ranks, now varied with blue and green and red feathers, moved off headed by the 85th Band. The Battalion settled down in a pleasant part of the Bramshott Camp, on the brow of a hill overlooking the picturesque dale through which flowed a streamlet gathered from the meadows of Haslemere, Shottermill and Hammer. It was the country of George Eliot and of Tennyson’s later years. Many travellers had come to it, but never any on so strange an errand.
Presently there appeared in Camp the Old 17th. It had been the first Nova Scotian Unit sent Overseas. Apart from its Commanding Officer, Lieut.-Colonel Cameron, it possessed hardly any Nova Scotians; it was officered and its ranks were filled almost exclusively by Western Canadians. This Battalion, like the famous Minotaur, had fed on the remnants of many others in its time. Would the Highland Brigade succumb to the usual fate or would it prove an indigestible morsel?
At the commencement of 1917 a change of policy was inaugurated affecting all the Canadian Camps in England. Witley was reserved for the Fifth Division. In the others the Training Brigades became reserve ones, which would have a full strength of 8,000 each, and each Reserve Battalion (2,000 in strength) would have some definite fighting Unit at the Front to which it would send reinforcements whenever required. The 17th was made a Reserve Battalion in the 5th Reserve Brigade; it was to reinforce the 25th and 85th and to be distinctively Nova Scotian; it was ordered to take over the 219th and 193rd. Officially the whale swallowed Jonah, but in the curious and unscriptural sequel Jonah took over the control of the whale from the inside. This second transformation was undoubtedly due to the fact that the 17th Reserve was to become a Nova Scotian Unit and naturally Nova Scotians assumed the dominant role; and these were to be found in the ranks of the Highland Brigade. But it was also due to a stubborn and persistent esprit de corps that had always characterized the 219th.