Service was voluntary in Canada until the last year of the war, and new units were steadily being authorized and recruited in various centers throughout the Dominion. I am not in possession of official information here, but I suspect that it was much easier to secure recruits for service units being formed in various localities than it was to get replacements for the battalions already in the field. In any case, many were formed which never got any further than England, though they left Canada as complete units, not always up to strength, perhaps, but with a full complement of officers. When these were broken up, they were not scattered indifferently to all units in the field. So far as possible they were kept together, men from one new battalion going as needed to replace casualties in a particular battalion or in two battalions in France. Thus was done all that could be done to maintain and make use of the bonds of community, to give a man every chance to fit smoothly and proudly into his organization for war.
There was a much further departure in this same direction: Men were allowed to wear a uniform to which they were by racial tradition and sentiment attached. I wonder how many Americans know that the Scotsman in Canada might wear a kilt. Not only might he wear a kilt, but several choices were provided, so that, although he might not find the tartan of the clan of his own name, he might nevertheless wear one to which he was sentimentally or otherwise attached. The Royal Highlanders of Montreal sent out the 13th Battalion clad in the kilt worn by the Black Watch (42nd) of Scotland. In that same brigade, the Third (of the First Division), were two other Scottish battalions, the Fifteenth and the Sixteenth. The Fifteenth was from Toronto, sent out by the 48th Highlanders, who wore the Davidson tartan, allied with the Gordons. The Sixteenth came from some place in the West, I believe, and wore the Seaforth kilt. And there was at least one other Scottish unit, also from the West and wearing the kilt of the Seaforths. Of the later battalions, which never got to France as units, I recall two that were Scottish. There may have been others, but since this is in no sense intended to be either a history or a complete record of the Canadian service, I have not gone to the trouble to inform myself.
But I am informed as to the wisdom of letting the military organization take shape as naturally as possible from civil life. The idea that it must be as arbitrary and violent as it can be made – and that a feeling of solid unity can be imposed upon it – is of a piece with the notions of little minds regarding authority. We have all seen these little fellows, who, not having within them the quiet consciousness of authority, are at pains to display the outward semblance of it, foolishly supposing that thereby they prevent themselves being seen for what they really are.
Well, the records of the Canadians probably will be conceded to have some bearing upon the quality of their organization and training. And one of the most radical departures from this precious uniformity – those Scottish battalions – did their part towards earning and maintaining the reputation of “The Ladies From Hell.”
But I must get on, back among the boys – old and young – of my own battalion. In age, they ranged all the way from sixteen to fifty-two. At both extremes there was probably considerable lying done, but that’s the kind of lying that I believe even old St. Peter himself would overlook. By hook or crook, those boys were determined to get into the game. Some that I came to know very well in later days showed me medals for Indian campaigns which were over long before some of the youngsters were born. The same way, many of the really young ones confided to me that they had to resort to all sorts of subterfuges before they were accepted.
A very large percentage of both officers and men had been in the organized militia, and many had served in South Africa, the Sudan and other campaigns. Our Colonel dated his active service from the Riel Rebellion, in 1885, and I am not sure but that Major Bennett (Second in Command) could claim the same honor. Many others of the officers and N.C.O.’s carried the ribands proving long and meritorious service, but here and there in every company would be found some of the very, very young ones.
The first time I took any particular notice of these kids was when, during our training in England, we went in for a course of signalling. The instructor of the class to which I was attached – a corporal – had been a Scoutmaster and he had picked out several ex-Boy Scouts as likely candidates for the signallers section. At the very first day’s instruction it was painfully apparent to myself and a few others who knew nothing about the signalling game, that we would have to get up and hustle. Those boys already knew the Morse alphabet and most of them knew the flag codes – both single and double – while we had to learn the whole business from the ground up. However, by perseverance and endurance we managed to catch up. I can only speak for myself, but I am willing to admit that I did more real studying during those few weeks than I had ever done in my life.
From that time on I was rather partial to the youngsters. Of course I had some up and coming nephews, back home, who were Boy Scouts; and I had, one time and another, taken enough interest in their work to boost them along whenever any matter came up in the way of camping, hunting, fishing and all that sort of thing, but had really never taken them very seriously. Now, however, I realized that the training they had received was just exactly that needed as a foundation for the making of real soldiers. Intelligence, straightforward honesty of purpose, devotion to duty – they had them all, and many’s the time during the following years that many of us older ones had reason to be glad that we were supported by those same boys. Boys? Yes; they were that, in years; but no man, of whatever age, has ever excelled them in the patriotic way in which they did their duty through fair weather and foul. Courage? They were the very exemplification of it. Clean, upstanding, forthright men, they never shirked or dodged a hazardous enterprise, but took their chances with the best.
The crew of the first gun which I commanded was composed entirely of these boys: Bouchard, Wendt, Toms, McFarlin and Shangrow. The combined ages of the oldest two of them was at least two years less than my age at the time. I believe (and sincerely hope) that McFarlin and Shangrow are still living. They were both wounded and sent home and I do not find them among the list of those killed. The others are peacefully sleeping in their graves, close to where they made the great sacrifice – “For King and Country”.
During the time, in the summer of 1916, that I was back in England and attached as instructor to our Reserve Battalion at Sandling, I had occasion to take numerous detachments down to the Hythe ranges for musketry instruction, and there I came into contact with some of the real Boy Scouts of England. They were taking the places of the older Coast Guards and were on regular and active duty, patrolling the shores of the Channel. I would judge that their ages were between thirteen and seventeen, but they, each and every one of them, were doing the work of a man. More than one German submarine was caught by their vigilance, and I doubt not that they also were responsible for the frustration of many attempted air raids.
I have often thought that General Sir Baden-Powell must have, during his epochal defense of Mafeking, noticed that the young boys were more susceptible to instruction than the older men of the available forces and that it was there that he conceived the Boy Scout idea. Of course, I may be all wrong about this but that is how it looks to me. The young men do learn easier and more quickly than the older ones (how well I know it).
Yes; I remember those youngsters very pleasantly – over this interval of a decade and a half. Then I realize that not all of them are alive now, that within the year, perhaps, after I last saw them, the oldest among them had gone to join the colours – and the dead. But, still, the memory of them is not a depressing one. We are depressed with the death of a soldier only when he has died unnecessarily – when he has been sacrificed to inefficiency, sent into battle poorly equipped, inadequately trained or falteringly supported. I do not believe that those fellows were thus sacrificed – this despite my feeling that toward the last many of their officers lacked the stuff – and the experience – to develop that inspiring leadershi
p, the cool and consummate courage and sureness, that characterized a great number of British officers at the beginning. But the battalion had something which held them together and pulled them through. This something belonged to the battalion – and to the British Army. It could not be destroyed by the war, which destroyed the best men and the best officers.
It is this something I have tried to get at in this chapter about the British Army. And it is this something that I should like to get across – in addition to the value of rifletraining – as I try to sort out the experiences and impressions of my “military career”. Of this career, there are a score or so of years that need not be counted, except in so far as they familiarized me with the rifle and gave me the rudiments of military training. With this equipment I went to Canada, where I taught something of the little I knew, and learned a lot myself. A little period of active service enabled me to test this – to see what counted and what didn’t count. Then I found myself back in this country – with no very high opinion of myself as an instructor, but with a very definite knowledge as to what mattered on a modem battlefield. I had rosy visions of a magnificent army – built to fight and to stand up to it, shoulder to shoulder, each man proud of the next man.
Well, the contrast between the early days of Canada’s preparations and the early days of our preparations was painful to me – as an American, as a soldier, and as a man of a bit of common sense – and to my budding pride in this coming American Army. I had come back with a great deal of admiration for the British; but not the least part of my feeling was this anticipation of an even greater admiration for the United States.
I was sure of this. I had seen what Britain could do with material not as good as ours. With two years in which to observe and with this vast resource of dynamic energy, self-confidence and adventurous spirit on which to draw; the United States, I thought, might well startle the world with a model and magnificent army.
I soon became convinced that those who were in charge of things had somehow lost all touch with the realities of the situation. The finest sort of beginnings for a real army were deliberately destroyed. It was like a madhouse. The important thing seemed to be a lot of theories which did not even have the virtue which should belong to theories: that of having evolved from logical thought. These had evolved from a lot of wrangling, petty jealousies, animosities – and I don’t know what fancy ideas – and they had resulted, largely, in destroying the very basis on which a fine army is built.
I suppose I rubbed the apostles and supporters of these theories the wrong way; but my regret is that I did not have the power to rub hard enough. I should have liked to rub them out. There is no place for factionalism and petty jealousies in an army, particularly when it is being hastily enlarged to meet an emergency. There must have been some aim which, in its fine-spun, roundabout intention, was good, but I don’t know what it was. If it was to eliminate factionalism (such as might be supposed to develop between Marine Corps, Regular Army, National Guard, etc.,), it will not bear much examination. This sort of factionalism is of the very stuff out of which armies are made – if the general officers are equal to their jobs. A good officer does not mistake uniformity for unity any more than he depends upon gazetted authority for his right to command. Unity belongs to the regiment, not the uniform; and the right to command is a quality of the officer. If he is a general officer he welcomes individuality in the various units of his command. Whether this individuality is marked by differences in uniform, doesn’t matter a snap to him – just so he has the individuality. That’s the stuff fighting spirit is made of. It’s up to him and his subordinates to use it. That’s why I wished for the power to rub harder. If they can’t use it, let’s get them out of the way, not sacrifice the makings of a fine army (and later literally sacrifice the resulting mob) to a few little notions and petty jealousies. I can put up with these things in politics, but in war, lives depend on them.
That’s one big lesson I learned with the British. England was full of all sorts of obstructionists, strikers and long-winded members of the opposition. Adequate supplies of munitions were long delayed, partly because of them. But no one found it necessary – and crack-brains were not given a free hand – to reorganize the army, turn the Scots Guards into a battalion of pioneers, put the Royal Marines to driving lorries, and scramble the remainder together in conformity to impractical, or insincere, notions of a fond and fatuous national unity.
Once again: the unit on which morale, and fighting efficiency, depend is small. Esprit de corps begins with the pride of the individual soldier in himself and as one of a small uniton all of whom he knows he can depend, each one of whom challenges and supports the best that is in him. If you will provide officers to command regiments and brigades built of this sort of stuff you will be in a fairway to having an army that is a United States Army.
And you certainly can’t get it by mixing raw recruits representing all strains of a widely diverse people – except with unlimited time and the best of leadership. With these it would be possible to do things the wrong way. But if we had plenty of brains and leadership in the right places there would be no inclination to do things the wrong way.
Well, the war is over. I should like, graciously, to refrain from speculating upon what would have happened if the United States had not had a full year – after the declaration of war – in which to get into action. Another time, it may be that we shall have to fight, instanter, with no foreign power to shield our befuddled preparations. If this should happen, I hope that the armchair Napoleons and the jealous little minions of uniformity will have mastered their technique of producing armies presto! out of the hat, and that their assortment of East-siders and cowpunchers, Boston Irish and hot-headed Southerners, Wops, Poles and hillbillies, will each feel proud of his tent-mates, glad to have them on his right and left, and that they stick together and carry on as well as did the “Limeys”.
Chapter 16. Notes on Sniping
IN THIS chapter I propose to give some of my own personal opinions and experiences relative to sniping in the trenches, or from a fixed position while on the defensive; and will follow this with a chapter devoted to the individual rifleman who uses his rifle while advancing over the modem battlefield. There is a vast difference between the two situations and in the equipment, methods, and what might be termed the individual qualities which must necessarily be employed.
I do not make any pretense as to this being a text-book, but it might not be amiss in this chapter to give my readers an idea or two as to just how we went about what turned out to be the very first efforts made by the British Army at anything like organized sniping. Well, anyway – I am going to take the role of “Old Man Experience” and tell you some of the details. In various other chapters of this story I have had occasion to say a great deal about our experiences, and I fear I shall be accused of repeating a great many things simply to fill space. However, I shall try and minimize these repetitions as much as possible.
It is a common but erroneous belief that the only necessary qualification for a sniper is to be able to shoot accurately. As a matter of fact that is only half of it – perhaps less than half. I have known, and know now, many expert riflemen who would be of little or no use in war – at least not without a lot of additional training and experience.
Before the sniper can “snipe,” he must be able to get into position within range of the enemy, and as this game works both ways, he must be able to do so without allowing said enemy to locate him, and perhaps get in the first shot, for if this should happen it is quite likely that our sniper would be through before he started – in other words, a washout Since we no longer have an open season on Indians, about the best way to acquire the skill to advance over varied ground without being detected is by stalking wild game. And by stalking, I mean to get right up close to the animal before taking the shot, and not merely to crawl into some position at long range from which it is possible to take a shot over open ground. Crawl, roll or push yourself forw
ard until you are within relatively close range of the target, and learn just what sort of Indian-cunning and patience the art of proper stalking calls for. The practice may be gotten on anything from a moose to a goose, both of which take a lot of stalking at times.
I suppose that in this day and age, the most readily available live animal upon which to practice will be the common woodchuck or ground-hog. From personal experience I can testify that excellent stalking practice may be gotten by anyone who will really stalk woodchuck, and not merely use them as a long-range rifle target. In recent years I have talked with a great many woodchuck hunters, many of whom told me what excellent “hunters” they were and what splendid shots and kills they had made, mostly at the longer ranges running up to three hundred yards. I never bothered to explain to them that it was rifle practice they had been getting and not hunting practice at all. Those of you who wish to learn the art of stalking under such conditions must hold your fire until you have stalked forward to within thirty or forty yards; which may readily be done in any hilly or rolling country, or where the grass or other cover is of any height. Too easy a shot, do you say? Well then: use a light .22 rifle and hold for the eye, or else take a running shot offered in the few yards distance our ’chuck will be from his den. The idea I am trying to put over is that you must get your rifle practice on the paper target and your stalking practice on the woodchuck or other available live game.
When the British finally did get around to organizing anything like a real Sniping Corps (in 1916) they made good use of the game-keepers, guides and men from the Scottish deer forests. They called ’em “Lovat Scouts” possibly because Lord Lovat may have been instrumental in the organization or equipment of the force – I don’t really know. But I do know that Major H. Hesketh-Prichard was the man who really boosted and built up the game. Further along I shall have something to say about his organization and methods.
A Rifleman Went to War Page 30