Loyola College - Review Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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BAY. LIEUT, GUY PALARDY, 62nd Squadron RAF. Died of wounds. May 6th, 1918, Ol Loyola, 1917, FROM LIEUT. PALARDY R.F.C. Rendcomb, Cirencester, Feb. 25, 1918. I had a bad crash the other day; luckily I fell into atree. Ismashed the machine to pieces. The engine flew out of its bearings but I didn't get hurt. There was something really funny about it; I was perched in the top of a tree and they had to get a ladder to get me down. It happened that another macaine was just going to hit me, so I tried a dangerous turn and side-slipped into the trees. When it happened, the mechanics rushed around to get my bones. They kept staring at me thinking I was dead while I was yelling from the top of a tree to get a ladder and let me down. They kept looking at me without moving until they finally got a ladder. for me. It was later discovered that the controls caught in my flying coat thus preventing my straight- ening out the machine. In the distance about one mile to the East FROM CAPTAIN THE REV. W. H. HINGSTON, S.J. France, January 16th, 1918 Last Sunday I said Mass at X ; I had to pass through a place which Fritz had been shelling that morning. There were two roads I could take, the main road or the path through the fields. I chose the path, and on the way, saw the effects of the morning's shelling, a dozen new shell-holes in the field to right and left of the foot-path. At the village I heard about twenty confessions; I finished earlier than usual and started for home. Meanwhile Fritz had begun shelling again. On returning I took the road instead of the path, which would be decidedly unhealthy if Fritzie continued firing short. As I got into the village, I heard the distant boom of a departing shell. After about seven seconds, I caught the beginning of the whine, and knew that that shell was not for me in any case. Hundreds of people heard the boom and the whine, and stood white-faced at their doorsteps, looking up the street in terror and waiting for the crash. Some soldiers going up the road took to the fields to give the road a wide berth. I would have done likewise but it would not have been easy. Bob (my horse) could have climbed the bank, but there was a oJ BNF ae wn my BAL barb-wire fence beyond. Besides, Bob is mortally afraid of shells, and at the rate at which he was travelling, I would soon be out of the danger zone. Just then I caught another boom, followed by the whine and the crash. The shell cleaved the road and I saw it demolish a house on the opposite. side. Bob was now travelling at an unheard-of rate and I arrived at the spot only a few seconds after the shell. A little cloud of dust was blowing from the ruins across our path. Somewhat further back in the road, a house had been struck for the second time and beams and other debris lay in the road. A few seconds more and I was beyond the danger zone; and I soon arrived at the presbytery door, with Bob trembling with fright. In all, thirty-seven shells were dropped with only one casualty. A man fleeing from the shelling was struck while going down the very road I had come up. A splinter of a shell had burst two hundred yards away and a piece about two inches long had gone through his right shoulder from behind, took a strange course and came out in front without damag- ing his lung. In the evening I had beads and Benediction for the soldiers. TOU. 2, Be JIL Nosed eo levenracllt LOYOLA COLLEGE CAMPUS. -THE LARGEST IN CANADA 13 is seen the Montreal Mountain and to the right the College Buildings

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FROM LIEUTENANT HORACE PERODEAU. France, April 12th, 1917. For the first time I had a taste of war to-day, when we went over the lines. To tell you the truth, it was rather disappointing. One could see nothing but miles upon miles of trenches, and as there was no shelling going on at the time, I never would have found out we were over the Hun territory had not my pilot told me. By some extraordinary luck we were not shelled, so it did not make things exciting at all. As a matter of fact, | had nearly forgotten that there was a war on, and was looking serenely over the fuselage, not at all expecting to see any Hun machines, when I received a slap on the back; so I bent over to see what the pilot had to say, and he signalled to look up for Huns, and a good thing he did, too. Although I only learned it later, our Fli ght Commander had been brought down just a few minutes before, over the same spot. I did see some machines, but they were so far that we could not make out whether they were ours or not. After this I shan’t worry with the ground, but will keep a sharp look-out. It’s really extraordinary how quickly a machine will appear in the sky. At first you see just a tiny black spot, then a few minutes later you are miles past it. This is easily explained when you think that the two planes are making a combined speed of about 250 miles per hour. So naturally it does not leave much time to gaze at each other. A curious sensation is when the machine meets an air-pocket. Then we fall from fifty to two hundred feet, and I can tell you that you feel queer. It’s just the same thing as when you are coming down from the top storey of Morgan’s in the elevator. If you haven’t been there, just try it for fun. It’s really a g imitation of the real thing, and hardly as risky. We are quite comfortable in these planes: they are much better than the ones we used in England, and are much stronger, so we get a much better fighting chance. FROM LIEUTENANT VICTOR WALSH. No. 14 General Hospital, imereuse, June 18th, 1916. I will tell you just how I got shell-shock. We were going into a strange part of the line, and C and I were walking through a ruined village at about | a.m., with a platoon behind us. This village was being shelled nowhere near us,, but suddenly we heard a big shell corsing right for us. We dropped flat, and so did two or three men behind us. The shell landed right in the middle of the platoon, and when C and I got up, we found only four men, and a corporal left, out of a platoon of 23 men. Nine were killed and nine wounded. As we had to get on to the trench before daylight, C took the remaining five men of the platoon with him, and I stayed with six men from another platoon to pick up the wounded and take them to a dressing station. We did not finish till dawn, and then started out for the trench, but were stopped by a sentry, who told us no one could go up by day. I tried to telephone the battalion, but as they had only just got into a new line, no one knew where they were, so I sent a wire and received an answer to report that night. Well, we started up for the trench that night, and were caught like rats, ina communication trench, by the Huns shelling. They shelled both ends, and I came as near to a shell as I ever want to be, that night and the night before. They came so close we got out of the trench into the open, but they shelled the open, so we got in again. By this time, we were nearly crazy. So I told the six men with me to each make for the place we started from. So we did, and ene man collapsed, and we had to practically drag him along. He afterwards went to the hospital with severe shell-shock. Another man had his helmet knocked in on one side, but escaped injury, Hers to his steel helmet. One man lost himself, but I found him later, and the rest of us came in O.K. Captain René Redmond is in hospital here wounded. We have had several long chats together. He is an awfully nice chap. 1 met him before | left Montreal. He is an officer of the 3rd Vics. The Catholic Chaplain came around here yesterday. He is a hospital Chaplain, but some years ago used to teach at Loyola, and was delighted to find an old Loyola boy.... FROM LEO SHORTALL. King George Hospital, Stanford St., London, May 2nd, 1917. ....Well, here I am in hospital, in London, with six wounds and a broken leg. Fritz got me pretty hard when he did get me. I have one in my right hip, one in my right groin, one in the right side of my stomach, .......... one in my left thigh, and one in my left arm. My right leg is broken close to my body. We made a charge the [5th of April, and just as we got as far as we were to go-—the German second line—I heard the rattle of a machine gun at close quarters, and then something struck me like a kick from a horse. I got my equipment off and started to crawl back, when a sniper spotted me and got me through the right leg. It turned me right over on my back. I was lying out two days and two nights, before the Red Cross found me. You can guess what | suffered. You don’t know what thirst is yet, and I hope to God you never will.... Remember me to all the boys and Fathers. VRIVATE LEO. M SHORTALL, Ist Newfoundland Batt Died May 30th, 1918, of wounds received at Vimy Ridge. Olt Loyola, 1913.

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FROM LIEUTENANT PLUNKETT (HIS VOYAGE ACROSS) July 30th, 1916. We are still at sea but are steaming rapidly past the coast of Ireland. We have not had all the pleasures one might enjoy on such an ocean voyage in the piping times of peace, as there is a certain excitement and nervous tension which would be lacking at other times. Dodging the submarines is quite a game; we on board are completely in the dark, but the Admiralty and ship officers seem to know the game thoroughly. We kept out of sight of everything until yesterday when we passed a neutral ship, and to-day we are surrounded by British destroyers. At times in our course, at least in the danger zone, we zig-zag to fool some wandering torpedo and when turning, we list far over to one side. It has been foggy ever since we left Canada, and while that hid us from view of the German submarines, yet we were not able to make such good time; we should have arrived this morning. In spite of the fog, we followed a fairly good pace; our best day’s run was, I think, 530 miles. France, September 29th, 1916. I wish you could see some of the sights I've witnessed, for instance, that of seeing a squadron of aeroplanes start out on a raid. There are always a dozen or so overhead and as to balloons—well, the French have as many as thirty up all the time. They are used for observation of course and are anchored to a truck, upon which is a windlass and they can thus be moved about quite easily. Rather an amusing incident occurred this morning. Doc. Freeman, the Battery cook, saw three men coming along the road, one of them being old, hatless and wearing a ‘' slicker. ’ Doc. called out ‘ Hello, old Timer, how would a cup of tea go?’ The old fellow replied: ‘‘ By Jove, I would like a cup of tea! So Doc. gave him some tea in an old tin used for condensed milk. He nearly fell dead from fright when the old fellow took off his coat and disclosed himself as a Staff Colonel. No wonder the Imperials think we are a bit free and easy! France, September 29th, 1916. Iam living in a fine dug-out, but it is not shell-proof like the one I had previously. That one was forty or more feet deep and cut in solid chalk, with a little narrow stair, just large enough to crawl through; it was of German make, quite safe but rather stuffy. Necessity is the mother of invention; as proof of this, to-day our men made a stove out of a heavy, sheet- iron oil tin and stove-pipes out of eight cartridge cases (brass ones), all fitted together. One of our officers is away up forward with one gun., Last night his rations were put in a bag and left outside for the man who was to take them up. When the man came, he saw two bags, carelessly picked up one only, and went off to deliver his goods. When Mr. Morse opened his ration bag, he found 18 tins of ‘‘ Bully Beef and nothing else. He was a bit peeved. France, October 3rd, 1916 London is not the only place I've been lost in. Only the’other day I went across about two hundred yards and on returning, I got completely lost; I started falling into shell-holes and trenches. Finally I found my way, but it gave me a scare; I was afraid I was heading towards Germany. Yesterday Ed. Cassitt and I, seeing a dozen rails lying idle, decided they would do no harm—and perhaps some good—on the roof of our dug-out. So we carried them over and placed them along, that is to say, we began to do so. We were just dropping our fifth rail on the roof when whiz! I heard a shell and thcught she seemed coming straight towards the back of my neck. I dropped the rail and jumped sideways off the roof; my end, being suddenly dropped, nearly knocked him over. We picked our- selves up and whiz-bang!! just where the pile of rails had been. I dodged and was quite well sheltered from splinters by the mound of earth under which we sleep. As I dodged I saw Ed. grab off his tin hat— I don't know why—and then the concussion caught him and tumbled him over backwards. We stayed under cover for a while and then congratulated our- selves that we got only a few ‘‘ strays.” Speaking about ‘' Tanks,’’ I may say they are certainly wonderful. One stopped for breakfast this A.M. on the road near us. A Hun and a Tommy going back in an ambulance got talking, as the Boche spoke English. Tommy mentioned the fact that they had taken the trench that they were after, that very morning. Fritz admitted the fact but stated that his friend, the enemy, was obliged to come over ina taxiin order todoit. Well, itis surely some ‘bus. France, October 26th, 1916. Being wet for hours sometimes seems to be part of the work; c’est la guerre! There are only the captain, one subaltern and myself left at the guns, so we are a bit short on time and long on work. I have a tough little pony; his looks are not the best thing about him but he and I have some fine rides in spite of rainand mud. The roads are terrible; horses get stuck in the mud and it is impossible to get them out. They are then shot and help to fill up the hole. I enclose a handbill picked up beside a couple of dead Huns. Hundreds of these handbills were drop- ped by our men over the Hun lines to let them know what the effect would be if Roumania entered on our side. You may translate it—that is, if it is not removed before the letter reaches its destination. A couple of miles behind the Front line is not much, and we are hardly thatnow. Weare safe enough from rifle and machine gun bullets of course, but right there for anything bigger, such as ‘‘ Whiz-bangs ’ and ‘‘ Dooley Bears,”’ to say nothing of ‘‘ Silent Sue,”’ a naval gun which has a muzzle velocity of 2,280 feeta second and lands long before it is heard coming. Don't worry about me; thank you all for being so good and thinking so much of me. 14 France, December 23rd, 1916. I shall not be able to go to Midnight Mass this year as it happens to be my turn for Liaison duty then. We are billeted in what was once a house—'' A la Bairnsfather.'’ We are getting it fixed up well and have had a bricklayer and a paperhanger at it for three days; thus our Christmas dinner will be set amid quite decent surroundings. I made a trip with a bombing officer the other night ; not over the parapet—I am not tired of life yet!— just out into the gaps so that I could get some idea of how our line stands. Last night I had dinner about 9 p.m. and when I was coming back, I stopped to watch a ghostly figure slipping quietly by. It was a man carrying a large, new, white cross. The sunken road was so dark, and, at this particular time, so deserted that the not-unusual, but ever-pathetic sight of a man carrying a cross to the spot where his ‘‘ pal ’’ fell, was most touching. France, April 17th, 1917. I told you, did I not, that I went over with the infantry when we drove the Hun off his strongest fortress on the Western Front, the Vimy Ridge? We simply swept him off his feet and a couple of hours after the show had started, we had captured a number of his guns and gun-crews. One Battalion, the 25th, from Nova Scotia, went over with a piper playing on either flank. The French- Canadians went absolutely wild with excitement and a desire to go over the bags and at the Huns. It was certainly a wonderful day. France, April 28th, 1917. On the night of the 24th and 25th, I went forward with ammunition. After some little excitement, I got the ammunition all in, and everybody out except a N.C.O., who had not got out; as I was to ride his horse back (he was staying) I had to wait. Well, the old Hun started in with Whiz-bangs. I couldn't get through the barrage so I hugged the ground in a ditch and waited. After some time, things became fairly quiet and I started out round the outskirts of the place shelled. ; I ran into my Corporal and he handed me over his horse and went on. I had just mounted and started away when a Whiz-bang burst just at my shoulder it seemed, and I felt something burn my leg. I think the horse must have been hit also for he started away cross country as hard as he could go, jumping trenches and shell-holes, and paying no heed to the way I pulled on his mouth. ; I got home without any further accidents excep t that a big gun went off, blinding me for a moment and I then collided with a pack-mule going the opposite way. It gave my back a bit of a strain, but the rest here had fixed me up well. I found the wound very slight and decided that I would not go out, but the others made me go to the dressing-station next day just to be sure it was O.K. I was inoculated for tetanus and sent down here to give my back a rest. The hospital is in a very pretty spot. Anything without shell-holes and mud looks pretty to me.