On the Fringe of the Great FightNasmith, George Gallie
History
On the Fringe of the Great Fight
Nasmith, George Gallie
World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives, English
At one stage it looked as if the force was undergoing a process of
decomposition, and would disintegrate. The morale of the men under the
very depressing conditions which existed, had almost gone and they did
not care what happened them. Privates, perhaps college men or wealthy
business men in Canada, frankly said when arrested, that they were
quite willing to pay the price, but that they had determined to get
warm and dry once more before they were drowned in the mud. It is an
easy matter to handle a few cases of this sort, but when you get
hundreds of them little can be done, and threats, fines and
punishments were of little avail in correcting the existing state of
affairs.
As a matter of fact, under the conditions the military authorities
were hard put to it to control the situation. Each night the motor
lorries returned loaded with men under arrest, and each day an equally
large number left the camp to undergo the same experience.
All the time the wastage went on. One soldier fell off a cart and
fractured his skull; another had his legs amputated by a lorry; a
third was accidently shot, and another committed suicide. It is
astonishing how many accidents can occur among 30,000 men.
New huts were being built at Larkhill, near the ancient Phoenician
remains called Stonehenge, but the progress made was so slow that
finally our men were put on the job, and the huts began to go up like
mushrooms. Hundreds of Canadians, belonging to Highland and other
regiments, built roads, huts, and other works, in a country apparently
filled with labouring men with no intention of ever going to war, and
who, in fact, often did not believe that there was a war. We all felt
somewhat relieved one night when we heard that the German fleet was
bombarding the English coast, hoping that it would shake the country
out of its feeling of smug self-complacency and lethargy.
On November 20th, there were 150 men in our hospital at Bulford Manor;
three weeks later there were 780. It had rained every day in the
interval, and there was a great deal of influenza and bronchial
troubles, which made splendid foundation for attacks of other
diseases.
Towards the end of the year the men began to move into the new huts at
Larkhill. We had already officially forecasted in black and white,
that the huts, being raised from the ground, would be colder to sleep
in, and whereas there had been only eight men in the tent to be
infected should one man become ill with a communicable disease, there
would now be forty in each hut; and that in consequence we should
expect a great increase in illness from such diseases. And there was.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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