On the Fringe of the Great Fight - Softcover

Inhaltsangabe

ON THE ROAD TO A GREAT ADVENTURE.

I

t began with a wish. That takes me back to a pleasant day in early August,

1914, and a verandah at Ravenscrag, Muskoka-a broad, cool, verandah

overlooking dancing dark waters. A light breeze stirred the leaves and gently

wafted to us the smell of the pines and the woods, mingled with the sweet

odours of the scented geranium, verbena, and nicotine in the rock-girt gar-

den. But my mind was far removed from the peacefulness of my immediate

surroundings: the newspaper I held in my hand was filled with kaleidoscopic

descriptions of the great European tumult. Unconsciously I voiced aloud

the thought that was uppermost in my mind: "I would gladly give ten years

of my life if I could serve my country in this war." "Do not say that," warned

my hostess, looking up from her magazine, "for everything comes to you on

a wish," and nothing more was said of the matter at the time.

That day was a very quiet one with our little house-party. We made our

usual launch trip through the lakes but nobody talked much. Each was busy

with his own thoughts, wondering what England could do in the great emer-

gency. Could she, or could she not, save France from the invading hosts of

3 GEORGE GALLIE NASMITH

Germany? And deeper in each mind was the unspoken fear, "Perhaps it is

already too late to save France-perhaps, even now, the question is 'Can Eng-

land save herself?'" The great depression in men's minds during those early

days of the war when the bottom seemed to have dropped out of life and

men strove to grasp at something upon which to reconstruct a new system

of thought and life and work, had enveloped us like a chill evening mist.

Those were ghastly days. While France, Russia and England were feverishly

mobilizing, the brave little force of Belgians was being steadily rolled up by

the perfectly equipped German war machine and the road to France hourly

becoming easier. England had commissioned K. of K. to gather together a

civilian army of three million men, and Canada had called for one division to

be mobilized at Valcartier Camp, a place somewhere in the Laurentian Hills

near the city of Quebec. Little did any of us dream how prophetic was to

be that apparently chance remark of our hostess. But the first greeting from

the maid when we reached home that evening was, "There is a long distance

call for you, sir." The Minister of Militia had asked me to report in Ottawa

immediately. Next morning I waved my friends, "Au revoir." That return

was far from being as speedy as we expected, for my wish very shortly came

true.

The greeting of the Minister of Militia, Sir Sam Hughes, as he turned from

the desk where he sat in shirt-sleeves, with typewriters on all sides of him,

was a cordial handshake and a slap on the back. Would I go down to the

new camp at Valcartier and look after the purification of the water

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