The Last Lady from Hell (38 page)

GUELPH VETERAN’S HOME, PRESENT DAY

“M
r. Macdonald? Mr. Macdonald,” I said quietly to the old man. It was no use, he had nodded off after going on for hours about the war and his amazing experience. His accounts of his past were so clear and detailed that there was no doubt in my mind that these events had been a true recollection of history and not some fictitious story made up by a lonely old man.

Even Mike, who at first seemed more interested in the soap opera playing on the TV in the next room, was drawn in and captivated by the old gentleman’s stories.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Mike asked.

I sat back in my chair, put down my pen and notebook in which I had scribbled pages of notes and took a deep breath. “I’m exhausted just listening to his experiences, he’s reliving them. I’m sure he’s okay. He just needed a nap.”

I continued to look at this ancient piece of living history with a degree of respect that I wouldn’t have believed I possessed. Even though I sorely wanted to awaken him and beg him to continue, I knew that the right thing to do was to let him sleep. What a time for him to nod off and what a remarkable story.

My curiosity was pegged out. So many questions were swirling in my head. Was that really his brother? What happened to all his friends? Had they made it through the battle Somme?”

I had written down as much information as I could and backed it up with three hours of digital recording. But I really needed to do some research and find out more about the Somme offensive.

“Let’s head home Mike, I need to Google some stuff,” I said.

“Yeah, I’m right there with you,” he replied. “I don’t remember anything about World War I.”

It was about two o’clock and I decided to drop about three hours of research into my project and then return for more of Mr. Macdonald’s recollections. I was completely stoked about this project now. History had always been kind of boring to me before, but now that I could put a face to it, now that it had a personal reality, it became poignant and meaningful.

Since Mr. Macdonald had fallen asleep I decided to use the time wisely and find out more about the battle Somme. In an odd way it almost seemed like cheating. You know – reading the ending of the book before you’re there, but the fire was burning and it needed more fuel.

It only took a few minutes to boot up and Google the 36th Ulster, Battle Somme. Just typing in that search string returned more than forty thousand results, so I had to focus my search. I started to visit the top sites and read up on the subject. Most all of them agreed that the success of the 36th Ulster Division was the only success of the first day in that horrid battle.

One letter I found written by a Colonel Blacker to a comrade after the first day of the Somme illustrated how even the most successful battalion took massive losses!

“Dear Fitzgerald It is with a heavy heart I take up my pen to tell of the doings and losses of the Battalion on July 1. After being five days in the trenches during the preliminary bombardment, we came out for two days rest, then went on at midnight on June 30, and took up our positions ready for the assault, which was for 7:30 am, July 1
.

The Battalion was on a four company front, each company being in a platoon front, thus being in four waves: two leading waves in (the) front trench line, 3rd wave in (the) communication trench, 4th wave in (the) 2nd line trenches. Order of companies from right to left: A, B, C, D. These dispositions were completed about 3 a.m. We suffered 50 casualties while waiting. The opposing lines were about 400 yards apart, with a ravine some 70 yards wide with steep banks about 20 feet high, about half way. The order was for the leading wave to get within 150 yards from German lines by 7:30 am to be ready to assault the instant our barrage lifted at 7:30 am. To do this the leading waves went over the parapet at 7:10 am, 2nd waves at 7:15 am, 3rd at 7:20 am and the last waves at 7:30 am. Ansor, Atkinson, Johnston C, and Brew were in command respectively and 11 other platoon officers, that was all that were allowed in the actual assault: and about 600 men. Of these Johnston was killed. Atkinson, Townsend, Hollywood, Montgomery, Seggie, Stewart are missing, believed killed. Brew, Gibson, Jackson, Shillington, Andrews, Smith, Barcroft, Capt Ensor are wounded and 516 other ranks are casualties
.

The first wave got away without suffering badly, the 2nd wave had many casualties, and the 3rd and 4th waves were mown down by machine gun fire, frontal and enfilade, before they reached the ravine. After the machine gun fire the Germans put a barrage between us and the ravine and few of C and D companies got to the German front line, but a number of A and B companies got through the German line and reached their objectives at Beaucourt Station, past the German 3rd line. Of these none have returned. Owing to the failures of Battalions on our left, they were cut off. The gallant and splendid leading of the officers and the steady advance of men even after their officers were down, was magnificent, and makes me proud indeed to have been associated with such heroes. For four nights after, parties went out and searched for the wounded and brought in several (Ensor and three others on the 4th night), and then we were moved back 12 miles and the Border Regiment continued the search and rescued many of which we owe them deep gratitude. Cather was killed
bringing in wounded in daylight, and Menaul slightly wounded. Alas, many of our best have gone and we only marched back 281 strong, including transport. The Battalion in the hour of trial was splendid as I knew it would be, but I am heartbroken. The gallant friends and comrades we shall see no more. So few have come back unwounded it is hard to get any information as to individuals. Of the 48 Lewis Gunners, only 7 are left
.

In ‘A’ Company, Sgts More, Whitsitt, Hegan, Kirkwood, McCourt are wounded and Sgt Wilson is missing believed killed. In ‘B’ Company, Sgt porter is killed and Sgts Caulfield, Keith, Barr, Courtney, Johnston wounded. In’C’ Company, Sgts Hobbs and Byans are killed and Sgts Brown, Love missing. In ‘D’ Company, Sgts Mullen, Gordon, Thornberry killed, Sgts Hare, Balmer, Sewell, Hughes wounded and Sgt Bunting missing. McClurg, the Primate’s chauffeur wounded. We want Lewis gunners badly, the Signallers escaped well, we still have over 30 available. Your draft of 53 came last night and I saw them today, very well turned out and good lot
.

What can you do further? I fear little - nearly all our bombing teams are gone. We are right back now, not more than 30 miles from Boulogne and are hoping to get drafts and trying to refit and sort things out. Fortunately, the four Company Sgt Majors and four Company Quarter Master Sgts were not allowed over the parapet so the Company Staff is intact. Cather’s loss is a severe one, he was quite wonderful as an Adjutant, but his glorious death and his name has gone in for a posthumous Victoria Cross. He brought in one wounded man from about 150 yards from German wire in daylight! And was killed going out to a wounded man who feebly waved to him on his calling out to see if there were any more near
.

There has [sic] been a lot of extravagant words written and published in the Press, which is a great pity. The Division behaved magnificently and the point does not want labouring. Please be careful that this epistle does not get into the Press. I am still dazed at the blow and the prospect in front of us all, but we must not be downcast; and must remember the glorious example of the gallant band
who so nobly upheld the honour of the Battalion, and who have died so gloriously, leaving their example to live after them, and to inspire those who are left
.

Of the nine Victoria Crosses awarded on that day, six were earned by men of the 36th Ulster.

I then Google searched the 1st Newfoundland Division to see how Mr. Macdonald’s friends made out. The results were not good. This division sustained losses that could only be described as unimaginable.

According to the website “Newfoundland and Labrador Heritage,” approximately eight hundred men made up the Division. At 09:15 their commander made a monumentally fatal judgment call and ordered his men to leave St. John’s supply trench and cross open land to join the battle. Within fifteen minutes the Division was wiped out. Only sixty-eight men made it back for roll call. It seemed inconceivable that so many men perished in such a short time. How many family lineages came to a halt, how many fathers, mothers, wives, and children mourned after that senseless and ill-conceived charge?

Both Mike and I had to stop reading for a while. The incredible losses of one day in a war that lasted four years were staggering. We went downstairs for a beer. Sensing our somber mood, my mom asked if everything was all right.

“Yeah,” I said. “We’ve been reading up on the battle Somme. We had no idea it had been so horrible.”

“I guess that generation never felt it necessary to share the horrors of that war. They simply carried it with them to their graves,” she said.

“That’s what makes this so incredible,” I said. “We are getting the story from someone who lived through it, it’s almost like a sacred moment.”

My mom smiled understandingly. “It really is a window to the past that is closing quickly,” she said. I looked at her and a chill came
over me. What if Mr. Macdonald was to die today? The story would go untold. We had to get back to the home.

I put down my unfinished beer. “Let’s go Mike, see you later Mum,” I said and we headed out. “This guy has seen the depths of hell, how could he have carried those memories with him his whole life and remained even remotely normal?” I asked Mike.

“I don’t know. How long do you figure has it been since we left Mr. Macdonald sleeping?”

“About three hours, so I hope he got rested up and feels like continuing.”

Soon we had arrived at the veteran’s home. I parked my sweet old Datsun and we went in.

“Is Mr. Macdonald awake?” I asked the receptionist.

She smiled. “I believe he’s been asking for you. He’s in his room, number 147. His door should be ajar.”

As we approached the room, a voice came through the cracked door. “Well, where have you lads been? Come in, come in. I thought I had bored you both to death with my stories and they had carted you away to the morgue.” He chuckled at his own joke.

“Oh, no sir, in fact, we’d love to hear more if you’re up to it,” Mike jumped in.

Mr. Macdonald smiled and winked. “If you listen, I’ll talk. Now, where was I?” His asking, I think, was more of a test than a real question.

“You had just told us about Dan McKee seeing someone he thought was your brother at the hospital,” I said.

“Oh, yes” he said with a sly smile.

5TH CANADIAN STATIONARY HOSPITAL

S
heila looked at Dan, and then back at Bully with a look of disbelief.

“He came in over a year ago with a head injury. A bullet pierced his helmet and lodged in his brain. A convent, unable to help him any further, had passed him along to a clearing station outside Ypres who sent him to us,” she explained. “We had the only surgeon in France capable of operating on such a wound. After the operation, he remained semi-comatose until about a month ago. He became my pet project and I gave him the nickname Bully because the only thing he seemed to be interested in eating was bully beef.”