Georges Vanier: Soldier: The Wartime Letters and Diaries, 1915-1919

years.

1

THE VAN DOOS SAIL FOR EUROPE

MAY 1915

It was a touching and inspiring scene, this gathering of Canadian officers from every part of the Dominion and belonging to every walk in life, united in the mother country and proclaiming the solidarity of the English peoples.

Georges Vanier to his mother,

5 August, 1915

It was May 20, 1915, and the 22nd (French-Canadian) Battalion—the Van Doos—was preparing to leave Canada for the battlefields of Europe. They had just completed a four months’ training program in Amherst, Nova Scotia, and were excited at the prospects of their impending departure. Within hours, they would embark on their hazardous journey across the Atlantic, a course where the threat of submarine attack was very real. Only two weeks before, on May 7, the British passenger liner, the Lusitania, had been sunk by a German submarine off the coast of Ireland, claiming over one thousand lives.

For the moment, the troops were caught up in the ebullient sendoff given them by the citizens of Amherst. As the battalion paraded along a route lined by the 6th Mounted Rifles, the Amherst Military Band struck up with It’s a Long Way to Tipperary and Soldiers of the King while the whole town shouted and cheered.

It was a very emotional departure, Georges Vanier noted in his diary that morning. The streets are lined with people carrying flags, and the houses are covered with flags and bunting. If outward demonstration means anything, Amherst was sorry to lose us and that I think is the best compliment that could be paid us.

They boarded two trains for Halifax and arrived there the same afternoon. Here too the reception was euphoric with thousands of Halifax citizens swarming to the port, waving flags and cheering the soldiers as they boarded the troopship R.M.T. Saxonia. Later that night, Vanier was to describe the scene to his mother:

On May 20, 1915, the Van Doos boarded the troopship R.M.T. Saxonia. Vanier called their departure the most ‘alive’ moment of our existence so far.

At Halifax, our train shunted right onto the wharf where the Saxonia was waiting for us, with the 25th Battalion (from Nova Scotia) already on board. We filed off the trains and onto the Saxonia, the gangway was removed and we steamed away. No disorder, no noise on the part of the men, discipline perfect.

Before the vessel was under way, Major-General Rutherford gave three cheers for the King, then for the 22nd and 25th Battalions and the crowd responded with vim. The sight was impressive as we drew away to the sounds of O Canada played by our band. Then a quiet descended as we left the wharf, the people silently waving flags, handkerchiefs and hats. It was the most alive moment of our existence so far.

It is a privilege (Lloyd George¹ said so first) to be of this age, when instead of mediocre, colourless lives we can forget the dollars and the soil, and think of principles and the stars. We have been looking at the ground so long that we have forgotten that the stars still shine.

Diary entry: 22 May. On board troopship, R.M.T. Saxonia.

This morning we passed an iceberg, twelve miles to port. It looked like a gigantic snowbank through the field glasses. I played shuffleboard and quoits a great part of the day and I have never felt so well before on board a ship. Weather clear and cold, with not too much motion in the sea.

Diary entry: Sunday, 23 May

This morning we heard Mass on deck. All the men were gathered together on the forecastle. It was wonderful to hear Mass in the open air, with the sky and the clouds and the sea as sole witnesses. The most impressive moment was when the priest raised his hands to the sky preparatory to giving us his blessing just before the last gospel.

Diary entry: Empire Day, 24 May

Another day of delightful weather. Tonight the moon is shining in a perfect heaven and we sit on the upper deck idling the time away and thinking of our friends in Canada. We will be in the danger zone in a few days and the possibility of being torpedoed is far from remote. Probably our course will have been thoroughly scouted by destroyers and cruisers that will act as escort. So far, of course, we moved ahead without any protection whatsoever.

Le Musée du Royale 22e Régiment Ph/172/28

Mass on board the R.M.T. Saxonia. Vanier noted in his diary that it was wonderful to hear Mass in the open air, with the sky and the clouds and the sea as sole witnesses.

Information received today leads us to believe that Italy may enter the war on side of the Allies. Marconigram says the Italians and Austrians are fighting already. Such conflict may obviate the necessity for any formal declaration of war by the principal powers.

Diary entry: 25 May

War has been declared between Italy and Germany. This is unquestionably the greatest event since the 4th of August. Germany’s doom is sealed. The past has shown that one nation cannot fight the whole of Europe. The humiliation of Germany is inevitable. No treaty with her will be of any value unless she is stripped of her power: she has not respected her signature in the past and she will not do so in the future unless she is too weak to make dishonesty profitable.

Diary entry: 26 May

Today I was one of the officers on the guard whose duty it is to maintain order on board. No incident of import except that about 10:30 p.m., we sighted to starboard a vessel which had the lines of a battle cruiser. Ships that we have met have signalled to us but we have given no sign of life, our orders being not to give away our identity or our position.

Diary entry: 27 May

Weather a little rougher today: I have no feeling of seasickness however. The Saxonia is a wonderfully steady boat and I would advise any of my friends to cross on her, especially those who fear seasickness.

Three or four of us got together and bought what is known as the low field in pool. Twenty numbers are auctioned off—in this case from 310 to 330—which represent the miles the vessel will run from 12 o’clock noon to 12 noon.

We are getting into the danger zone: tonight most of us will sleep with our clothes on and our life belts at our side. All the portholes are darkened: unfortunately there is a magnificent moon shining and we must be plainly visible for a radius of many miles.

Diary entry: 28 May

The low field won: our run was 300 miles flat.

All our life-boats are swung out ready for use: personally I consider a life-boat as being practically useless until it is actually in the water. The ship’s officers say it is very much better in case of accident to put on one’s life belt and to jump from the deck when the ship is about to go down, without paying any attention to the boats.

2:30 p.m. We have just sighted a destroyer on our port side coming towards us at great speed. It turned out to be the British destroyer Lawford and she is the first war vessel we have seen since we left Canada. The Captain says she is a modern destroyer (class 1913) with three four inch caliber guns and a possible speed of 29 knots (35 miles). Everyone on board was delighted and we cheered like children. Before the arrival of the Lawford, we had no escort or protection of any kind. She is now following a parallel course to ours on our port side. Should a submarine attack us now we would see some actual fighting. Another destroyer has joined us and we are now proceeding with a destroyer on either side. The night is a clear moonlit one and we move along silently with our sentries watching.

The destroyers carry no lights. Silhouetted against the sky they look like gigantic greyhounds, with their noses pushed into the sea.

12 p.m. At midnight, we are about 80 miles from Plymouth and we can see the lights of Lizard Point.

Diary entry: 29 May

6 a.m. At dawn we steamed into Devonport, the naval base for the town of Plymouth.

I climbed up onto the bridge at 7 a.m. The landscape is beautiful, with fields of brilliant green. Here and there are rows of small houses, all identical, with tile roofs. Went ashore at 4:30 where we boarded the train. Travelled across the counties of Devon, Dorset, Wiltshire, Hampshire, Surrey and Kent to reach Shorncliffe. The countryside is smiling: the neatly trimmed hedges bordering properties are well cared for.

Diary entry: Sunday, 30 May. East Sandling camp, near Shorncliffe.

Arrived at East Sandling camp at 7 a.m. after a march of four miles (from the siding where we detrained). The location of the camp is ideal: high, dry ground, varied countryside. We are housed in small waterproof huts—excellent lodgings..

7:30 a.m. Observation point above our camp.

This morning, we left our camp and made for the highest point we could see—about one mile from camp. We crossed fields of lush green where hundreds of sheep were grazing. From the height a delightful panorama unrolls to the right and below us to the left is our camp. Folkestone and the English Channel are just four miles away on the sea. . . . The countryside is a warm, restful green, such as is seen nowhere in Canada. I saw a naval cruiser and a dozen antitorpedo boats exercising in Folkestone Bay.

Mass in the room of Captain Doyon² [the army chaplain].

Diary entry: 31 May

Our regular life begins today. The men are settled in. We sleep in portable cots, a little hard but one gets used to it. East Sandling camp lies in one of the most beautiful parts of Kent. We are just 80 miles from the front.

Diary entry: 1 June

Captain Boyer and I are leaving for London to buy a motorcar for the regiment. We will be staying at the Savoy.

Diary entry: 2 June

Visit to Major Hamilton Gault, D.S.O.³ at No. 17 Park Lane where he is recuperating. He has several wounds, among others a very serious one to his left arm. He doubts that he will be able to return to the front. He tells us that the Canadians have won an enviable reputation for courage and personal initiative. . . . That evening, we saw The Man Who Stayed at Home at the Royalty Theatre, a play about spies, with some very subtle intrigue.

Diary entry: 3 June. Still in London.

Today is the King’s [King George V] birthday. This morning I visited the office of the Canadian Red Cross where I met Miss Fleet, the sister of Robbie Fleet, and Lady Drummond⁴ who had just lost her son. Lady D. is marvellous and hides her grief and her sadness under a stoic exterior which masks her deep suffering. She is working hard for the Red Cross trying to forget. . . .

Savoy Hotel, London

3 June, 1915

My dearest Mater,

As you know already from the cablegram asking for two hundred dollars, I have come up to London with Captain Boyer. The object of our stay here is to purchase a motor car for the regiment. . . . I cabled for the money because there were a number of things which I needed such as a portable bath, a periscope (really a hyposcope), a water bottle and a hundred and one other things. Besides I have been thinking seriously of purchasing a motorcycle which would be a very useful to me in many ways, firstly as a means of locomotion and secondly in order that I might learn the mechanism and running of it. You know great use is being made of them at the front and the knowledge obtained might be of incalculable value.

I have thought it unwise to deprive myself of anything that might be an aid to me in France: it would be misplaced economy. Hence the call for money.

[. . .] We have very comfortable quarters at East Sandling camp, near Folkestone, the well-known watering place. We are all living in waterproof huts in one of the most beautiful spots in the south of England, in sight of the English Channel (four miles away) and only thirty-five miles [actually closer to seventy] from the battle front.

You know of course that the night before last, there was a Zeppelin raid in London: very few knew anything about it. The Germans dropped some incendiary bombs but did very little damage, murdering a few women and children. There were a number of fires at the same time and I am inclined to believe that some of the fires were set not by the bombs but by Germans resident in London. [Not factually correct but probably reflects atmosphere of widespread public suspicion.] I think you will read of other raids in London during the month of June. No question of the front for a couple of months: in any case, I shall make it a point to keep you in touch with my movements.

At East Sandling camp, the Van Doos joined three other battalions: the 24th from Montreal, the 25th from Nova Scotia and the 26th from New Brunswick. These four battalions formed the 5th Infantry Brigade under the command of Brigadier-General David Watson,⁵ former publisher of the Quebec City Chronicle whose battalion had distinguished itself at Ypres. The 5th Brigade would be part of the 2nd Canadian Division. Their commanding officer was Major-General Sir Richard Turner,⁶ a slight, bespectacled man who had been a Quebec City merchant before becoming a popular hero in Canada, having won the Victoria Cross in South Africa.

The brigade’s training was rigorous: a ten-mile march every morning, often under scorching sun and through choking dust, and platoon exercises, such as musketry, gymnastics, and bayonet and machine-gun skills in the afternoon. Vanier was chosen to follow a course in map-reading.

Diary entry: Sunday, 6 June

Mass in the open air on our parade ground (an Anglican touch). Standing on the parade ground, more than a thousand voices sang the Magnificat⁷—very moving. One amusing detail: at the end of the Mass, we sang Nous vous invoquons tous to the tune of God Save the King and the officers of the 24th Battalion thought we were singing God Save the King in French and, in their turn, played and sung the National Anthem at the end of their own service.

Diary entry: 10 June

Visit in the driving rain to Caesar’s Camp [probably a Roman camp] with Captain Weekes and the members of the [map-reading] class. The fortifications that we found date from Caesar’s time. Close to the camp, there is an airfield with a garage where pilots on their way to France can receive their orders.

Diary entry: 16 June

Last night, I went by bicycle to Westenhanger [a village four miles from Folkestone] to follow a course on the stars given by Captain Weekes which will complete his course on military mapping. Returned by bicycle at midnight. The rules for night marches—use them to study the stars and for periods of contemplation.

East Sandling camp

17 June, 1915

My dearest Mater,

This is an acknowledgement of a number of letters I have received lately and which I should have answered before, but the work here is so long that after parades we are very tired, and sometimes we forget to send news