Loyola College - Review Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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LIEUTENANT EDWARD E, PLUNKETT, 19th Battery. Killed in action, June 16th, 1917. Old Loyola, 1910, FROM MAJOR A. C. CULVER, 19th BATTERY It is with more sincere regret than I can say that I am writing to tell you that your son was killed to-day. As I should have expected, knowing him as I did, it was in an effort to help two of our gunners who had just been hit. You will have the great satisfaction of knowing that your son died a splendid officer. He had been with me for nearly a year, and I shall always ap- preciate a great deal more than I can express, the honour of commanding an officer, who, though only a boy in years, was in every sense a man and a soldier, He was recommended last April for the Military Cross on account of this thorough work on the day of the advance, when he went over with the infantry to the last objective, not failing to keep up com- munications. His going will leave a great blank amongst the officers and his Section, for owing to his kindly and unselfish nature, his willingness and good spirits, there was not an officer or man with whom he came in contact, who did not appreciate him. FROM FATHER FORTIER, CHAPLAIN, MAJOR I made it my duty to preside at your son's funeral, for not only did I lose a Catholic officer, but a personal friend and this morning I made it my duty to say Mass for the repose of his sou!. I understand Sir, how great must be your grief and that of his mother. Words are not sufficient to ex- press my sympathy and condolence in such a moment of bereavement. May you find your consolation in that truest religious saying: ‘‘ God's Holy Will be done. He has taken unto Himself the son whom He had confided to your care, His death was that of a hero, inasmuch as he devoted himself to save his wounded men. The Canadian Army has lost one of the most able and devoted officers. May his death and the wilful offer- ing of his life help to attain the victory so long ex- pected. FROM LIEUT.-COL. J. S. STEWARD, 19th BATTERY I did not get acquainted with your son until about April 9th, when he did heroic work for the Brigade while he was doing Liaison work with the infantry. He went all through that eventful day and his services were highly appreciated by t he infantry with whom he was. Since that day I have often met your boy. He enjoyed not only our confidence but also our admiration; always cheerful under the most trying circumstances and always having a cheering word and influence. He was always optimistic and never once downhearted. He will be sorely missed by his fellow-officers in the Brigade and by the boys in the Brigade, who admired and loved him. I pray that the good God will be near you and comfort you and his loved ones in this dark day. FROM THE DECEASED'S COUSIN, GUNNER S. PLUNKETT I have met several men who served under Ned in France, and being wounded, were sent here. It would indeed please you to hear them talk about him. They tell me he was the most popular and the bravest officer in the Battery. Bdr. Chisholm and he had their first experience of shell-fire together. He tells me that Ned was simply fine and it gave him courage to see the calm and fearless way in which Ned acted. He was indeed a son to be proud of and when I am at the Front, iS shall always remember my brave cousin. Even-tempered, willing, generous, he was always optimistic, had a cheering word for everybody and, though young in years— he was scarcely twenty—he possessed a sureness of judgment and a coolness of 15 - determination which would have done credit to a more advanced age than his. His companions testify that constant associa- tion with him only served to heighten their esteem for the dauntless youth still in his teens. Before making the Supreme Sacrifice, he had several narrow escapes, being once wounded. He had already gone through the offensive at the Somme and had parti- cipated in the preparations for Vimy Ridge Offensive as well as the strenuous days following that glorious victory. A few months before his death, he was recom- mended for the Military Cross for his fine work on an advance, when he went up with the infantry to the last objective and there established and kept up communications. The 16th of June, 1917, was destined to be his last day. Those who knew Ned were not surprised to hear that he met his death while venturing on a perilous act of charity. The official report of his death, received from Military Headquarters at Ottawa, reads as follows: “During the forenoon of July 16th, 1917, two mess-waiters were wounded by shell-fire and were brought under cover. Lieut. Plunkett went out himself to get some water for them, when another Shell fell, killing him instantly.'” It is worthy of note that it was Lieut. Plunkett himself who carried in the two wounded men and who insisted on going out to procure them water, an act of devotion which cost him his life. This heedlessness of risk was characteristic of a young man, who, always a devout Catholic, had shown an unfailing loyalty to his Church and his religious practices, and who was conse- quently so well prepared to meet his Creator.

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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.

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“H.M.S. PINAFORE.” The special efforts made this year to raise the stan- dard of music at the College to as high a plane as that attained in other branches of college activity, such as athletics, debating societies, etc., were crowned with signal success. When it is possible to choose a cast of fifty actors and singers from 125 boys altogether unfamiliar with this sort of work, and, with such raw material, to present “‘creditably”’ (the word is of our severest critic) Gilbert and Sullivan’s immortal ‘H.M.S. Pinafore,’’ we must conceive the highest hopes for the future of music and of dramatic productions at Loyola College after these have become traditional. All the principals gave an excellent account of them- selves. Mr. Hogan as Ralph Rackstraw, and Gerald O’Cain as Little Buttercup, vieing with each other for the honours of the evening. The ‘‘Gazette” said: “Mr. Hogan carried off the honours of the evening as Ralph Rackstraw. He has a really fine tenor robusto, though he uses it somewhat stiffly.” On the other hand the “‘Star’’ critic writes: ‘“‘The Plead for me When 1 yu Remembering thy prayer, with pious plot I'll haste the day when then too wilt rejoice 1D, Miecnart ce greatest success of the evening was undoubtedly that of Gerald O’Cain who played Little Buttercup in a way all his own, singing the music in a fresh, young voice and acting weil.” Indeed we may now well say: ‘‘De gustibus non est disputandum.”’ In criticism of the other principals, the “Star” justly remarks that Chas. McCullough caused many laughs as the Captain and had enough voice for the apostrophe to the moon, while John Wolfe was adequate as Sir Joseph.” Of the heroine’s part and of Cousin Hebe’s it was written that O’Reilly Hewitt’s make-up for Josephine was fetching and that “she” acted “her” rather dollish part very dollishly, while Clarence Davis as Hebe showed himself possessed of a good contralto. Paul Wickham played the villain Deadeye most villainously with his deep bass voice, his limp and the terrible gleam of his protruding left eye-ball. The entire chorus showed the effects of long and careful training. They excelled in the bright and 16 THE PINAFORE joyous “‘Let’s give three cheers for the sailor’s bride” and were admirable for tempo and harmony in the intricacies and grandeur of the finale of the first act. The second act, almost exclusively carried on by the principals, saw the chorus repeat lustily Little Butter- cup’s simple but effective song and draw a thunder cf applause with the satirically solemn, yet withal im- posing, ‘For he is an Englishman.” What was really meant to be an experiment, when | the College introduced a moving-picture machine into the routine of the ‘‘fiu” period, became afterwards a popular and indispensable institution. Approximately every fortnight, thanks to the energy of Mr. Bryan, S.J., who generally procured enjoyable films, the boarders are treated to picture shows. Mr. Bryan, S.J. and his assistants are by this time experts in the arts of turning handles, adjusting the screen, and generally obtaining good results. Many good pictures, too numerous to describe. were given and suffice it to say that pleasure was instilled into many a dull evening solely through the medium of the moving-pictures.