Loyola College - Review Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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16 EON ODA] COLLEGE REVTEW publish it in this number of the REVIEW. The official notification to the family stated that Lieutenant Howe had been killed by a gunshot wound on April 25th, We hope that in our next number we will be able to publish the accounts given by the officers of his regiment. We offer our sincerest sympathy to the relatives of Lieutenant Howe in their deep affliction. | LETTERS FROM THE FRONT LETTERS FROM CORPORAL ADRIAN McKENNA: Belgium, January 16th, 1916. I dropped you a line last night just to let you know that I had arrived back to the Regiment again. It feels great to be back with the boys. Redmond was delighted to see me again; in fact, I got a fine reception from everybody, from the Colonel right down. I left Boulogne on Thursday last and arrived at Harfleur on Friday. We travelled half way in second-class cars, and the rest of the way in box cars. I stayed two days at Harfleur, which is about six miles from Havre. I met a couple of fellows I knew there, who were, like myself, on their way back. On Sunday evening we marched to Havre and got on the train. It was a beautiful sight when we came in view of Havre. We came down the famous ''Escalier Montmorency. There, from the top, we could see the city and harbour all illuminated. I was in charge of the 21st Batt'n's men, and one of them hurt his foot getting on the train, so I went and saw if I could get him a decent place to sleep, as we were all packed into third-class wooden cars. I got him a second-class coach, and, incidentally, one for ourselves, so we had a very comfortable night. One fellow slept on the floor, and the other one and myself slept on the seats. We got into Rouen at half-past seven the next morning, and spent the day there in the station. We left at about nine that night and passed through Boulogne and Calais the next morning, and arrived at our destination at four o'clock in the afternoon. ОЁ course it was pouring rain, and we had to walk nearly five miles to our billets. We landed here just after the Company had come out of the trenches. Much to my delight, we are not in the old cattle pen, but are quartered in huts that have just been built. They are much better than the pen. They are built of tarred paper and hold about sixty men. It is quite cold to-day; in fact, we had a slight fall of sleet this afternoon. I am anxiously awaiting the next mail. Thank goodness! at last I will get my mail regularly. I am feeling fine again and ready to get after the Huns . . . . hope you will be able to make this out. 1 am lying on my bunk and writing by the light of one candle. I haven't been paid for a long time and І can't afford two candles. We were reckless last night and spent our last two francs on eggs, seven each. However, it might be worse, and pay day is to-morrow. I know your eyes must be winking and jumping from trying to make this out, so I will say good-night. I am enclosing the stripes off my great-coat. I value them very much, as I have had them since I left Canada. The stains on them are blood from a man who was killed and whom [I carried into the trench. Keep them for me till I get back............... My Little Dug-Out in the West, January l8th. I received your very welcome letter of December 10th yesterday and enjoyed it very much. Thanks very much for the draft. It came at a very good time, аз I was ''stony. We are not allowed to draw any money while in hospital, and when we are with the Regiment we get only forty-five francs a month. Of course we have nothing to spend it on except ‘‘eats’’, and we certainly kept the shops busy around here. I got back to my Company on Tuesday night, and, believe me, I was glad to get back. As you see by the heading, wearein the trenches. am writing this in my dug-out, which is very comfortable. It has a wooden floor, which is something new. We managed to get some wood and coke, and the brazier is blazing away at my feet. So, all things considered, it’s “ЗаКе” (new slang word). I wish you could see how I am rigged out: rubber boots up to my hips, a short leather coat and a big steel helmet. The Huns are quiet this morning. I guess they are getting sick of the war. I had a letter from mother yesterday. She seemed to take it for granted that I was coming home. Much as I appreciate your offer, І wouldn't dream of going back until I have done my ''bit, and I am glad you didn't do anything until you heard from me . . . . . . Good-bye for a while. It's dinner time, and I am starving, as usual.

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LOYOLA COLLEGE KEV LEW 15 I lost track of Adrian completely—heard neither of nor from him—until the night of January 17th. At five-thirty o'clock in the afternoon of that date I was waiting for my horse near a farm house close to the firing line, when out of the darkness (although early it was quite dark) he came up to me calling “Hello, George, how are you? As far as I can remember, the conversation which was not long, ran as follows:— oe well, Adrian, happy New Year, and so you are back? Tell me about your wound. Oh, it wasn’t very much. A clean bullet wound through the shoulder. The wound itself would have been nothing, if I had not suffered from the effects of anti-tetanus serum. For over a month, my sight was very much affected. But I'm in splendid shape now . .” “Why don't you ever write, Adie? You promised you would. I should like to get news from you. I was anxious about your bullet wound. Curious, George, I wrote only a few days ago; have you received the letter 2” “No, it will probably reach me in due course. | By the way, your mother sent me a Christmas present. It was jolly decent of her. It reached me in the hospital where it was doubly appreciated. | “I must be off, Adie. Good-bye and good luck, old boy.” Good luck, George. А hand shake, and I rode off. Little did I think that I should never see him again. The next incident which brought Adie back to my mind was the receipt of the letter he had referred to. I received it on January 18th, when in billets. The letter reads as follows:— January 13th, 1916. ‘ Just a line to let you know I am all right again. I joined the battalion again this week after being away for two months. I thought I might have been able to see you, but I guess that we won’t have much chance. I heard from John, and received a parcel from your mother at Xmas. Ernie was in France for a few days, but I couldn’t manage to see him. Drop me a line and let me know how you are keeping. I am sending this down by one of the despatch riders. Best regards.' And then the news, the awful news,—heard casually—by the merest chance. Here is how it happened. I met Mr. Duclos, Brigade Bombing Officer, late at night on Jan. 20th, and in some way | mentioned Adrian’s name, perhaps because Mr. Duclos had been formerly in the 24th. At once Mr Duclos said: ‘“ Why, George, he's dead. Killed yesterday. Adrian, I am told, was shot through the lungs and died almost immediately. I have as yet no other details. I have been unable to see anyone who was with Adrian at the time of the accident. I shall make it my particular business to get in touch with some one who can give me more definite details of his death. Не was buried Jan. 20th, with all the rites of our Church. Had I known then of his death, it is needless to say that I would have been present. I know the little cemetery,where he rests,very well indeed. Often, on and off duty, Í pass it. It lies near the intersection of two roads. Very tall trees throw their shade over the mounds of earth that mark the last resting place of Canada's boys. . . . . . . . .Forthe time being, а simple white cross will mark his grave. Не is with his men, where probably he would wish to be LIEUTENANT JOHN HOWE, 14th BATTALION, Killed in action on April 25th, 1916. Lieutenant John Howe was the second of our boys to give his life for the Empire. He was the son of the late Mr. and Mrs. Arthur W. Howe and a grand-nephew of Joseph Howe, the famous Nova Scotia statesman and patriot. Lieut. Howe was born in St. John, N.B., twenty-five years ago. He was quite young when he first came to the College, but even then his manliness gained him the esteem of all, and during the four years he was with us he made many friends. He was an expert paddler and oarsman, a member of the St. Lambert Boating Club, taking part in many races, and a member of the St. Lambert Football Club. His interest in military work is not of recent date. For many years he was a sergeant in the Victoria Rifles. He left Canada as a sergeant in the First Contingent and was promoted lieutenant at the front. Unfortunately we were unable to obtain any detailed information about his death, in time to

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LOYOLA COLLEGE REVIEW 17 LETTER FROM LIEUTENANT CHARLES POWER :— Mr. William Power, M.P. for Quebec West, has received a most inter- esting letter from his son, Mr. Chub Power, who was a patient in Miss Pollock's hospital, London, recovering from wounds received at the front. In the course of his letter Mr. Power, who, as well as his brothers, is well known in athletic circles, writes as follows: Was walking along our first line trench оп the afternoon of December 2nd, not far from the family dug-out (the one Joe and I occupied alternately) when my platoon sergeant said he heard a rifle grenade (we can tell with a little practice the difference between the explosion of their cartridges and that of an ordinary rifle). We looked up in the air forit, butit was rather misty. The sergeant crouched in the opening of а dug-out, I looked out towards the right, when suddenly I heard a tremendous explosion and felt as if I had been kicked in the back, was hurled forward in the mud, stunned for perhaps five seconds. Then I got up; the concussion had tumbled the sergeant into the dug-out, but he was untouched. Another man about ten feet away had been hit on the head. I felt that I had a sore leg, so limped around to the stretcher-bearers, took off my clothes, and discovered that I had received eighteen wounds, which, with two or three exceptions,were small ones; they had quite a time fixing up the bandages. That over, I walked down to our dressing station, nearly a mile. Was passed on there to the Field Ambulance station where I had something to eat while waiting for the motor ambulance. It arrived about six o'clock and by eight p.m. I was in a clearing hospital in bed. My wounds were getting pretty stiff by the time I reached there, so my clothes had to be cut off me; result, І am now minus a pair of breeches. Was thoroughly cleaned and ban- daged, placed in a room next to poor Alfie Evans. ‘The next morning at 11 o'clock was on the Red Cross train for the base. A wonderful ar- rangement of cars, about the length of ours, divided into wards, etc., like a hospital. The beds were comfortable, and we had all the attendance one could have in a hospital in Canada. Had lunch, tea and dinner on board. Were supplied with cigarettes and chocolate, lemonade, etc. We started fairly light, but before long were pulled up. In our car there were ten officers, all stretcher cases. Тһе sitting ones were in another car, and во оп. Arrived at the base at 11 p.m. and was taken to No. 7. Stationary Hospital, a show place reserved for officers. It isa converted hotel. Nothing could be more modern or up to date. Was again examined and dressed. Next morning, less than 48 hours after being wounded, was on an operating table, X-rayed, chloroformed, and the pieces of shrapnel removed. There were some pieces, partic- ularly in the right leg and left arm, which have made rather deep holes and had taken in foreign substances. АП these were taken out and tubes placed. Then I was bandaged again. When I regained consciousness in the afternoon I was able to sit up and write letters, have a good tea and later a good dinner. Since that everything is going well. Was kept two days more to rest up, then crossed to England on the hospital ship, which in better times was the New Haven-Dieppe packet, but is now as thoroughly a hospital ship as was the Red Cross train. The sea was pretty high, but so good are the arrangements that I never felt the slightest jar. Шеге were quite a number of wounded officers and men on board; they all stood the trip equally well. j At the English port another train to Charing Cross, where the distribution of patients among the various hospitals takes place. I was selected for this one. It appears to cater especially to Colonials, though just at present I am the only Canadian. It is quite comfortable, and I am sure it would be impossible to secure such treatment anywhere else. I have to be bandaged and dressed frequently, but it is very well done, and I suffer little inconvenience. I should be able to hobble about on crutches next week and go out for an occasional walk at least by Christmas. То me all this seems wonderful, and I think when the history of the war comes to be written it will be found that though the British have blundered in many things and seriously, at any rate their medical service and organization is a marvel. Nothing whatso- ever is omitted which could make for the comfort and well-being of the wounded. This not only includes necessaries and comforts, but all luxuries imaginable are furnished. I didn ot come in contact with the Canadians after leaving the Field Ambulance station, so had no opportunity of seeing any of my friends. The English, however, treated me as one of their own, and nurses, doctors, everybody, seemed to think that their greatest pleasure in life was to put themselves out, in order to please the patients. LETTER FROM LIEUTENANT HENRI DE L. PANET: 100th Field Co'y. К. E., 22nd Division. At sea on Н.М. Transport, Dec. 3rd, 1915. Just a line to wish you and Loyola the very best of luck for the coming year. I am afraid you are one of the few people I know who are there now, but I must ask you to congratulate for me everybody concerned in the publication of the LOYOLA COLLEGE REVIEW this year.