BX September 6, 1916

Camp Borden to Bramshott – Interesting Account of 125ths Ocean Voyage and Railway Travel to New Camp in England, as Seen by Bandsman George Murray – A Trip that was Most Pleasant in Every Way

Bandsman Charles Murray writes follows:

After being given a hearty send-off by a vast majority of the troops stationed at Camp Borden and the playing of patriotic songs by the 133rd Battalion band, our battalion, the 125th departed from Camp Borden at 3 p.m. Thursday, Aug. 3 leaving behind all its glories thereof, and nobody regretting in the least the departure from such a glorified and select spot.

After some three hours travelling we eventually arrived at the Queen City, coming in contact once again with familiar faces from the Telephone city, who had gathered to say a last farewell to those held dear to them. The last farewell of handshakes being over we proceeded on our journey, leaving Toronto at 7.30 p.m. amid vociferous cheering and the waving of hands, which continued all along the lines for miles – a cordial send-off worth of a city like Toronto, and which will never be forgotten. Last but not least were to be seen the little tots, the majority of whose fathers had probably preceded us to do their bit also for their King and Country. That brought out the touching feature of the incident as it not only brought back memories of their daddies, but also reminded those of us of the 125th who had left little ones behind us.

Continuing our journey from Toronto to Montreal there is really nothing significant to relate, until one gets a glimpse of the well-known St. Lawrence, which is a picture itself to behold. We arrived at Montreal on Monday at six, having to wait there for about an hour and a half. We had a short route march through the residential district of the city by way of limbering up a little, for needless to say our joints were getting a little stiff. Arriving back again at the train we felt much refreshed after our early morning walk. We then had breakfast leaving Montreal at 7.30.

I might say that after leaving Montreal the scenery begins to get more picturesque. Passing through the province of Quebec one cannot but help notice the quaintness of the place. A steepled church dotted here and there, with old-fashioned huts, was greatly in evidence. Women were very conspicuous in the fields helping to gather the crops, because their husbands were at war, shall we say? No! Look at the recruiting record of Quebec and it would suffice us that that would not be the reason. Probably if we were to take a glance around we might see some of these so-called masculine images looking over a fence or maybe in the house smoking while the female sex do the toiling. French seems to be the dominating language, we scarcely hearing a word of English until entering the province of New Brunswick.

Here we must make another pause at a small town called Campbellton, N.B., for we are getting a little stiff again, and we are all glad to indulge once again in a short route march through the above-mentioned town, which I might say was the first town I struck since leaving Montreal, a distance of about 100 miles, to hear our own language fluently spoken again.

Well, we are off again on the last lap of our train journey, having to go yet about 500 miles before reaching Halifax. Leaving old Quebec province behind us we find ourselves travelling rapidly through the more thickly populated province of New Brunswick. One notes the change immediately. The air up through here is cool and exhilarating. The surroundings take on a different effect altogether, things being more in resemblance to our own native province. Crops are fair through this part of the country; lumber is also to be seen in abundance in this province. We pass on and come to the town of Moncton, N.B., having a population of about 15,000.

Having to wait in Moncton for about one and a half hours, we again took another route march through the principal streets, after which we once again continued our journey. Speeding on and gazing at the beautiful landscape around us we suddenly get a view of the Bay of Fundy to our right. Leaving New Brunswick, with its magnificent scenery, behind us, we find ourselves approaching the province of Nova Scotia and passing through Amherst we get a good view of the internment camp for alien prisoners. Then comes a loud boom and a general shaking of fists through the carriage windows causing no little amusement. Mail is handed out freely from the windows to any person who is kind enough to dispose of it for the boys, they not being allowed to leave the train. That is the only means of the boys posting the letters and as a rule it stops at any little wayside station. There would be half a dozen people stopping to see if the boys had any mail to be posted, an opportunity which was always taken advantage of.

Owing to the engine and some cars leaving the tracks a couple of times we were a couple of hours late in arriving at Halifax. However, we got in at Halifax on Sunday morning, August 6 at 4.30 a.m. Taking everything into consideration our trip from Camp Borden to Halifax was all that one could desire. The food was first-class, and nothing to make things as pleasant and comfortable for us as possible was overlooked. After having had breakfast on the train, we got off and went aboard our ship, which was already waiting for us at the docks. Having to wait for four or five other boats to get loaded up we were compelled to lay just outside the harbor for three days.

Although not looking on that very favorably, everybody took it with good spirits, eagerly looking forward to our long trip across the great Atlantic. Laying just outside of port for any length of time is not the pleasantest of things, hence the excitement, when we started to pull out on Wednesday, August 9 at 7.30 a.m., with three other boats beside us and escorted by a battle cruiser. The weather is fine and a trifle cool for our first day of sailing.

Our quarters on the boat were very comfortable indeed, food also being up to the standard. Our daily routine on board the ship is as follows, except of course when our feelings in the lower extremities get the upper hand of us:  Rise at 6 a.m., breakfast 7.30, a little physical drill at 9.30 for about half an hour, dinner at 11.30, afternoons being spent in various amusements, tea at 4.30 and supper at 7.30, consisting of hard biscuits, cheese and coffee. It will be readily seen that the men are well looked after on the boat. Evenings are whiled away with different games and so on until 9.30 when all must go below deck and retire. Such is our daily life on board.

Thursday, August 10, the ocean is very calm. We are all enjoying the trip to the full, no untoward incident occurring of any account. Friday, August 11, comes a little warmer to be followed by a fog which lasts some three or four hours. We are well out into the deep now and with the exception of an odd few everybody is feeling A1.

There is to be a concert tonight, made up from talent out of the battalion and those who care to offer their services. This not only relieves the monotony on board, but aids greatly to revive the spirits of the men. A great majority who, perhaps, might be thinking of the ones left at home, thousands of miles away in the distance but very near in thought. It is night and gazing out across the great Atlantic, one can’t help but stand in awe, at the beautiful picture in magnificence and splendor which can’t be surpassed. As we look down on this great body of water and see the rays of the clear silvery moon beating down upon the water, it is truly a picture worth seeing at any time.

We had divine service Sunday morning at 9.30 conducted by our chaplain, and by the way of enlivening the spirits of the men the band put on a concert in the afternoon, which was much appreciated. In the evening a sing song of old familiar hymns was indulged in, in which a goodly portion of the men joined right lustily. The voyage continues to be calm, and we are now approaching the Irish Sea, so we will soon be in the war zone. Subsequently more stricter precautions have to be adhered to, such as no smoking on deck, no lighting of matches, or any lights whatsoever to be shown after twilight. These rules being strictly enforced and willingly observed by all on board. 

Thursday night, August 17, at 9.30 the Irish coast was sighted, not being seen very distinctly, of course, on account of the inky blackness of the sky and the moon being obscured from view. Friday morning, August 18, however we got an exceedingly fine view of the coast, and some few hours later, we are passing the Isle of Man, with its formidable pieces of rock looming out in the distance.

I might add here that on leaving Canada there were four troop ships altogether, accompanied, of course, by a battle cruiser. The names of the troop ships were, the Cameronian, Metagama, Scotia and the Scandinavian, this being the one that we of the 125th Battalion were on. It is five o’clock in the afternoon of the same day (Friday) that we are nearing Liverpool, with all its glory and majesty, with here and there to be seen various boats, such as patrol boats, and torpedo destroyers, five of which came out to meet the Canadian troop ships, before entering the war zone, and escorted us safely into Liverpool harbor, without a mishap, appreciation for this being shown in the playing of “Rule Britannia” and “O Canada,” by the band.

The trip from Halifax to Liverpool, so far as sailing is concerned, was an ideal one, although it got to be a little monotonous on account of not travelling very fast. But that is soon forgotten, for the ropes are thrown out, and our ship is being drawn alongside of the landing stage. The train is waiting, so it is only a matter of a few minutes before everybody is inside, but unfortunately we have to wait about two hours before pulling out of Liverpool at 9 p.m. necessitating an all-night ride. The trip from Liverpool would have been much more pleasant in the day than at night, but of course things have to be taken as they are meted out in the service, without a word or complaint. Leaving Liverpool at dark as we did, the first thing that impressed one was the almost total darkness of the city. In fact everywhere here it is in evidence. Of course it impressed us more on account of our being used to having our Canadian cities well lighted. Another thing that struck home, and very forcibly at that, was the absence of the male sex in the thickly populated district through which we passed. And needless to say we were cheered most heartily by the women and children standing in the doorways or on the streets.

Maybe we would spot an old man occasionally, but not an eligible. In a sense one would thrill with pride to think that the majority of Britain’s sons were answering the call of the Homeland. Then again it was deeply touching to see mothers with babes in their arms and also little tots standing by their sides, waving at the Canadians. The vacant chair was in the house, and probably there will be, shall we say, a very large number, that will never be filled again. It was a pitiable sight to behold and one which made the grim horrors of war flash through the mind.

Travelling at night and everything, of course, being in darkness, it is utterly impossible to attempt to describe the journey from Liverpool to Bramshott, the destination was bound for. Suffice to say we stopped occasionally at some of the principal centres of England, such as Crewe, Wolverhampton, Stafford, Birmingham, Oxford and Guildford, but not a sign of life was in evidence at any of these places on account, of course, of the late hour of the night at some of these places and the wee small hours of the morning at others. Eventually we arrived at Bramshott about 6 o’clock in the morning, taking nine hours in all, everybody being tired but happy to be at our journey’s end after having travelled some 4000 odd miles.

Bandsman Chas. Murray