The words of the sergeant at the Empire came back to me, "And I'll
give you hell if I get you in my squad." I understood then: this was
the first attempt of the Army to break my heart--an attempt often
repeated and an attempt for which, from my present point of vantage, I
am intensely grateful. In those days the Canadian Overseas Forces were
comprised of volunteers; it wasn't sufficient to express a tepid
willingness to die for your country--you had to prove yourself
determined and eligible for death through your power to endure
hardship.
When I had been medically examined, passed as fit, had donned a
uniform and commenced my training, I learnt what the enduring of
hardship was. No experience on active service has equalled the
humiliation and severity of those first months of soldiering. We were
sneered at, cleaned stables, groomed horses, rode stripped saddle for
twelve miles at the trot, attended lectures, studied till past
midnight and were up on first parade at six o'clock. No previous
civilian efficiency or prominence stood us in any stead. We started
robbed of all importance, and only gained a new importance by our
power to hang on and to develop a new efficiency as soldiers. When
men "went sick" they were labelled scrimshankers and struck off the
course. It was an offence to let your body interfere with your duty;
if it tried to, you must ignore it. If a man caught cold in Kingston,
what would he not catch in the trenches? Very many went down under the
physical ordeal; of the class that started, I don't think more than a
third passed.
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