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Updated: June 8, 2025
I will admit that the roads leading to the ranges were nothing to brag about, yet, taking it all in all, even they were pretty good. By this time the majority of us had received our uniforms and our badges, and had been given a number, and instructed to mark this number on everything we had. Mine was 18535. We had no "wet" canteens at Valcartier, so we were a very sober camp.
On the morning of the 28th word came from the trenches that Private Ferland of my regiment had been struck in the head and killed. Ferland transferred to the 48th at Valcartier. He had seen service in the American Army and Navy and wore a medal for bravery which I understood he had won in the Philippines. He was of French Canadian descent and was a very good soldier.
The only thing that does matter is that Jem has volunteered for active service and will be going to Valcartier in a few more days my big, splendid brother Jem. Oh, I'm so proud of him! "I suppose Kenneth would enlist too if it weren't for his ankle. I think that is quite providential. He is his mother's only son and how dreadful she would feel if he went. Only sons should never think of going!"
And he smiled in his peculiar way. Pauline could not help smiling a little too, seeing clearly that the old wizard knew all. Batoche's pleasant manner deserted him, however, on the way, and he thus discoursed with himself, as he trudged along: "I could not insist on Montmorenci or Pointe-aux-Trembles, but Valcartier is a mistake. Pauline will not find there what she seeks.
I went up to Forbes Bay to play golf and forget the war and suddenly found myself buying a ticket for Valcartier Camp and here I am." There was silence for a minute. "What did you come out for Colonel?" asked the Captain. "For adventure," replied the Colonel. "So did everybody else; anybody who says he didn't come out here for some such reason as that is a damned liar; don't you think so Doc.?"
As we passed the infantry on the road it was pleasant to see broad smiles spreading over the faces of the men who recognized us as having been with them at Valcartier and Salisbury Plain. Fit and rugged they looked as they swung along with the confident air which newly arrived troops often seem to possess.
Lieutenant Barwick acted as transport officer and the parade state showed 970 men and officers. We had an excellent run on the Canadian Northern Railway to Quebec, but lost a little time there and were late in reaching Valcartier. The men had their blankets, rifles, and equipment complete with them. They were fitted out ready for the field with everything but ammunition.
Zulma's ministrations had scarcely been concluded, when M. Belmont returned with the parish priest of Valcartier, a venerable man, whose smile, as he bowed to all the members of the group, and took in the belongings of the room, was as inspiring as a spoken blessing.
My body was black and blue from lying on the hard boards, and I was eager, as was every other man, to leave the train at once; but as our camp was not quite ready we had to stay in the cars another night. It was a relief, I assure you, when on the morning of September first we marched into Valcartier. Such a sight: tents everywhere one looked; all around little white marquees.
Nature has done much to adorn Valcartier and every mile along the road from Quebec to this beautiful valley is rich in historic associations. First, there is the St. Charles river, whose shallows and mud flats foiled General Wolfe in his first assault upon Quebec.
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