A Christmas gift to the Kaiser.
Surely this rotten luck of being separated at Christmas can’t go on forever.
— John Davey, Dec. 26, 1916.
In the early months of the Great War it was widely believed the fighting would be over in short order. “We’ll be home by Christmas” was a common assumption. But as the fighting ground on and the casualties mounted, with neither side able to achieve a decisive victory, Canadians — soldiers and civilians — gradually realized the magnitude of the war.
The letters soldiers sent home to their parents, wives, girlfriends and others reflects this realization.
In October 1914, two months after the war began, more than 30,000 men sailed to England as part of the Canadian Expeditionary Force. After a couple months of training they were shipped to the Western Front, where the opposing armies had settled into a jagged line of trenches that stretched 1,000 kilometres from Switzerland in the east to the North Sea in the west.
The Canadian Expeditionary Force soon established a reputation as a formidable fighting force. For example, between April 22 and May 25, 1915 the 1st Canadian Division and the Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry took part in the Second Battle of Ypres during which Germans bombarded the Allied lines with poison gas. Only the Canadian line held. More than 6,500 Canadians were killed, wounded or captured — one man in three. A year later, during the Battle of the Somme in 1916, the Canadians suffered more than 24,000 casualties.
By the end of 1916, 300,000 Canadians were in uniform. They were farmers and clerks and bankers and students. They came from every strata of society and from every region of the country. The fact that most every town and village saw someone’s father, son, brother, nephew, or neighbour march off to war lends soldiers’ letters a sharp poignancy.
What is perhaps most telling is how the letters tend to avoid detailed descriptions of the fighting.
“In some ways they were trying to protect their families from the trauma of what was going on in the trenches,” says Reid. “Instead, soldiers ask for news about home life: Are the crops in? Is the shop doing well? Has the roof been repaired?
“Part of it is the reassurance that the home life, the farm or the business, is managing without the husband or the son or the brother. And part of it is the normalcy of home compared to what they see around them everyday.
Bernard Freeman Trotter. Regimental #82066, 11th Battalion, Leicestershire. Born in Toronto on June 6, 1890, he became a teacher after graduating from the University of Toronto. Like many Canadians with connections to the Old Country, he joined the British Army on April 17, 1916. Rising to the rank of Second Lieutenant, he was killed a year later — on May 17, 1917 — while working on battalion transport duties. He was 26.
This has been the weirdest Christmas Day I have ever spent. Just before dinner last night the Adjutant sent for me and three other officers and gave us orders to take parties of men for entrainment. We were to start at 11.15. We did. Got to our destination about 1:00 o’clock this morning, and then waited about three hours for the train. Before we got the men on it began to rain; and we had a lovely hour getting back to camp. I turned in about 6:00, got up at 9:00 for some breakfast, and went to bed again until 11:30. After lunch went for a walk, had tea, and dozed again until nearly dinnertime. We had a real Christmas dinner — turkey and plum pudding and nuts, etc. … It was really very considerate of them to give us Christmas at the base.
David McLean. Regimental #799658, 15th Battalion, 48th Highlanders Regiment. Born in Aberdeen, Scotland, on Sept. 22, 1880, McLean emigrated to Canada before the war and worked as a distiller. Married to Letta McLean and with an infant son, he nonetheless enlisted in Toronto on Jan. 21, 1916. He was killed 15 months later on April 20, 1917. He was 37.
I received your letter of December 5th two days ago and was pleased to hear you were keeping well. This is Christmas Day and we’re back in billets for a time. The morning was wet but it is clear and cold now. We had our Christmas dinner in a big tent we put up for the occasion. Big enough to seat the whole company. So we sat down about 12 and our menu consisted of roast pork with mashed potatoes, carrots, cabbage, beans and applesauce and custard pudding with prunes, orange nuts, cigars, cigarettes, tobacco and I received a small parcel of handkerchiefs and chocolate and a parcel from the officers and men of the 134th which contained a pipe and chocolate and our officers waited on tables. And we were well looked after too and the pipe band was in the tent playing while we were eating and we had speeches and singing and altogether we had a splendid time which was far better than ever I expected under the circumstances. I was only wishing that you would be enjoying yourself at home as well as we were.
I received a box last night Christmas Eve from Winnipeg and I suppose it was from father … It was the best box that I have got yet. There was a pair of socks, a fruitcake in a square tin box, a box of chocolates, a bottle of malted milk tablets, a box of cough tablets, zam buck, sardines, handkerchiefs, gum, peppermints, Oxo, insect powder. Alex sent a small stove so we have a hot drink often.
Many thanks for letter & card with Christmas wishes which I received today … It’s not so cold down here but we had quite a snowstorm on Christmas Eve. It’s quite a novelty to see a real white Christmas. This is the first I have seen for years.
Well darling one week has passed since I was measured for my leg. I wish I could say that I was to have it by the New Year so as to be able to start the year on both feet again. It will soon be two years since I walked like a human being. It seems a long time to talk about it, but I can picture those fields & imagine I can see the exact spot where I fell as though it only happened yesterday. I guess it will be a long day before I forget it … But I hope all the dark days are behind us now sweetheart and that we just have to be happy & live long to make up for it all.
Roy Clarence Armstrong. Regimental #874936, 78th Battalion. Born in Winnipeg on Feb. 22, 1898, Armstrong worked as a clerk before enlisting on March 20, 1916. He was killed on Oct. 30, 1917 during the Battle of Passchendaele. He was 19.
Received the parcel & letters yesterday & they sure helped to make it look more like Christmas in this beastly camp. Take it from me a lot of fellows do not appreciate their homes half enough … Perhaps this will make you think that I am home sick but I am not got quite that far yet although at times I often wish I was in Dear Old Canada. I was chosen with thirty others from this battalion to go to Worthing, a fair sized town about 5 mi. from here, to a party that the ladies had arranged for us. They had quite a spread in the Connaught Hall & afterwards they gave a concert which was sure worth hearing. One of the ladies invited me to her home anytime I wish to go & I sure am going as, well, she has a swell looking daughter.
John McLean. Regimental # 754576, 119th Battalion. McLean was born on Feb. 16, 1894, in Sault Ste. Marie, Mich., but later moved with his family to Echo Bay, Ont., where he enlisted on Jan. 4, 1916. He was killed in action on Feb. 2, 1917. He was 23.
I would like to tell you more but it wouldn’t do. I can do that when I get home. Now you are doing too much worrying. We are all right if a man is careful.
I guess you will be wondering how I spent Christmas this year. You’ll will be surprised to hear we had a most enjoyable time. You see there is seven of us in the dugout and we put a few francs together and got something. We had a dinner of beef heart, mince pies, plum pudding, not forgetting a drop of wine, but of course we got this ourselves as the government were kind enough to supply bully beef and a little bread.
We are not having a hard time as things are quiet and so far we have received 50 Christmas parcels from different places. It seems rather funny, but although the life is rough, there is always lots of fun. You mention on the card to put one in for you. Well look at this card. These are a few of what we took on the Somme … It is a nice little gun they have, and a curse to all who see the effects of it. But it is all in a life time, so we must make our mottos always merry and bright, and look forward to the time we come back to Burlington.