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Updated: June 8, 2025
You have a right to see Pauline, and you shall see her. But Mademoiselle Zulma must go first. You will follow. I hasten to Pointe-aux-Trembles." Zulma required no lengthy summons. She ordered the calèche to be brought out at once, and with Batoche, drove rapidly to Valcartier. What a meeting! Never had Zulma so much need of her self-possession.
We were not sorry to leave England for we had spent many disagreeable hours on Salisbury Plains with rain a dozen times a day, mud varying from ankle to knee depth, wet clothing and poor tents. A few undesirables had crept into our Force at Valcartier where they had not been confronted with the wet canteen evil. When these chaps got to England they broke loose and had to be sent back to Canada.
I asked him if he would take the Regiment, kilts and all, and he promptly said he would, that in a few hours orders would be issued for the Militia to enlist for foreign service and that a great camp of instruction would be formed at Valcartier, where they would all be prepared for overseas service.
Never before had they been so close. Never had they seen a ruined town. War, until now, had been a thing of Valcartier, of a long voyage, of much drill in the mud at Salisbury Plain. Now here they saw, at their feet, what war could do. "Damn them!" said one of the boys suddenly. "Fellows, we'll get back at them soon." So they went away, a trifle silent and very grateful.
England had commissioned K. of K. to gather together a civilian army of three million men, and Canada had called for one division to be mobilized at Valcartier Camp, a place somewhere in the Laurentian Hills near the city of Quebec. Little did any of us dream how prophetic was to be that apparently chance remark of our hostess.
Every step we took the excitement became more intense, and by the time we reached the Don Station where we were to entrain for Valcartier, almost all semblance of order was gone from the ranks. Young ladies carried the men's rifles, others decorated them with flowers, others clung to their arms and the sidewalks were a mass of excited cheering humanity.
Such a place was found at Valcartier, a small village some sixteen miles from the City of Quebec on the line of the Canadian Northern Railway. When the war was declared the government did not own Valcartier and few people had ever heard of it. Soon, however, the name began to grow more familiar with the newspapers and in a day or two the place became government property.
Men were cheering; women were waving. Weeping was yet to come. On that same August night, not only from Edmonton, but from every city and town in Canada men were marching on their way to Valcartier. We traveled fast, and without event of importance. There were enthusiastic receptions at each town that we passed through.
Word had come from Red Cross headquarters that sheets and bandages would be required. Nan and Di and Rilla were hard at work. Mrs. Blythe and Susan were upstairs in the boys' room, engaged in a more personal task. With dry, anguished eyes they were packing up Jem's belongings. He must leave for Valcartier the next morning.
He had reconnoitred his ground very carefully, and had found several places back of the lines where he could mount a gun and rake the German lines if they advanced to the attack. Captain McKessock was one of the men who had sacrificed a great deal to do his share in this war. He was a captain in the 95th Battalion when the war broke out, and he brought a large quota of men to Valcartier.
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