Researching Close to the Heart by Nancy M Bell

Lately I've been doing research for my contribution to Books We Love Canadian Pioneer Bride Series. My story is set in Ontario during World War 1. The story line very roughly parallels my grandparent's story. My grandfather and his brother came to Canada as young boys sent to work and live in Ontario by Doctor Barnardo's homes in London's east end. They were the sons of the youngest son of thirteen siblings. Why none of the aunts and uncles stepped forward and took them in I have no idea. But they ended up in Doctor Barnard's Foundling Home after their father died. They came separately but somehow ended up being placed close to each other near Renfrew and Eganville in eastern Ontario. 

The boy who would become my grandfather enlisted in the army and went to France where he was a Sapper. His older brother followed him a short time later. My grandmother knew both boys but had an 'understanding' with the older brother.

Unfortunately, the older brother was killed on August 8, 1918 near a small French town called Marcelcave. He was in the first wave of troops that came out of the 'jumping off trench' and was cut down by enemy fire. The morning had been heavy with fog and the companies that were supposed to provide cover for the first wave of the attack didn't arrive in time. At first he was listed as Missing in Action but eventually his remains were identified. My grandfather was listed as his next of kin, so while he himself was still fighting he received the news his brother was first missing and then confirmed Killed in Action. My grandfather to be wrote to my grandmother telling her the news. They began a long distance relationship based on their mutual love for the private killed in action. 

My grandfather was part of the engineers and was gassed and buried alive for three days with another man. Eventually he was rescued and sent to convalesce in England. When he was returned to Canada after the war he ended up in Vancouver where he found a job peeling logs for Fraser Mills. He sent my grandmother her engagement ring hidden in a box of chocolates and she eventually travelled to Vancouver where they were married in New Westminster. I have changed a more than a few things in my story because a) it is a work of fiction and b) I needed to change things to fit with my requirements for the plot. I didn't want to write what would effectively be a non-fiction story about my grandparents, but there were some very interesting twists and turns that work very well for what I wanted for my plot.

Below is an artist's rendition of Marcelcave

I can only imagine what life was like in the mud filled trenches living on top of each other filthy and infested with lice and fleas.

Although the battle of Amiens (which Marcelcave was part of) was a huge victory there were many Allied casualties and wounded.

I have found that as I delve deeper into my family's past that the great uncle I never knew becomes more alive and a part of me. No war is pleasant and all wars are bloody and cruel affairs. Modern warfare with the ability to separate ourselves from the reality by the use of electronics and drones give the combatants some distance, but there are still those on the front lines who look the enemy they wish to kill in the eye and it is very visceral and real, much like the boys in the trenches of World War 1. I can only be glad that there is no longer a cavalry and that horses and mules are no longer required to move guns and equipment. The number of horses and mules killed and wounded is huge, the beasts had no say in whether they went to the front or not and certainly a large percentage of them were terrified. The more I dig the more real these things become, I only hope I can do justice to the era in my writing.

Remembrance Day has just passed and while I have always taken time on that day to honour those who fought and fell and in particular those whose blood lines I carry, this year it was all the more poignant when I paused to remember them on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. When my sons were young I always read In Flanders Fields to them and told them stories about their great grandfather, his brother who fought in WWI, and their great uncle who fought in World War II and was captured by the Germans and spent time as a prisoner of war.

His Brother's Bride will release early in 2017, I hope you enjoy the story I have cobbled together from my own ancestor's story and my fertile imagination. Please look for His Brother's Bride and when you read it spare a moment to bless and remember those who fought and those who fell.

A WHITE FEATHER - THE SYMBOL OF COWARDICE - MARGARET TANNER

THE ORDER OF THE WHITE FEATHER BY MARGARET TANNER

 For several hundred years the white feather was handed out as a symbol of cowardice. 

Who could forget the powerful movie, The Four Feathers, taken from a novel by A.E.W. Mason? It starred Heath Ledger and Kate Hudson? Set in 1884, against the background of the Sudan War. A British Officer, who resigned his post just before going into battle, is handed four white feathers. One is from his fiancée and the other three from his army friends.

In England, in August 1914, The Order of the White Feather was founded by Admiral Charles Fitzgerald, to shame men who would not enlist for the 1^st World War. Women mainly handed out these feathers to young men who were not in uniform. Sometimes they would stick the white feather in the lapel of the man’s coat.  Of course, these women didn’t know or obviously care, that many men who may have volunteered for the army had been rejected because of health reasons, or perhaps they had a vital job to perform in munitions etc.

Many men were persecuted or shamed into joining the army, sometimes with deadly results, or if the army would not take them, they were driven to suicide. The stigma of having been handed a white feather stayed with some men for a lifetime.

 

I am ashamed to admit this, but I had a great aunt who used to stand at the railway station hand out white feathers to young men during the 2nd world war. Her justification was that her son was in the army, so she felt that all other young men should be in the military also.

This short extract from my novel, Daring Masquerade, shows how unfair and cruel the act of handing out a white feather could be.

"Harry stared into the shop windows as they sauntered along the street. Poor Gil had pushed his stump into his pocket so no one could see his missing hand. Her heart bled for him.

 A small rotunda set amidst lawns and colorful flowerbeds, stood at the end of the main street.

“We need to support our soldiers after their valiant battles. They’re crying out for reinforcements,” a portly gentleman said. “What type of man would skulk around here while his fellow Australians are dying in the trenches?” 

“Here, here,” a well-dressed young woman cried out. “Conscript all the cowards who won’t enlist.”

“What are you doing here, young man? Aren’t you ashamed to be so cowardly as to let other men fight for you?” A middle-aged matron shoved a white feather into Gil’s hand.

“You old bitch,” Harry yelled, knocking her hand away, while Gil stood pale and shaking. “How dare you accuse my brother of cowardice?”

“Why doesn’t the coward enlist?” someone else called out.

“You despicable creatures!” Harry screamed back. “You should be arrested.”

Back and forth, Harry and several of the women hurled insults as more people milled around listening to the argument. Harry became so inflamed she didn’t care what came out of her mouth. “You parasites, living comfortably here while forcing someone else to die.”

“Your brother is a coward, ” the portly gentleman said. “He should enlist and do his bit for the Empire.”

“Here, here, Mayor,” someone endorsed his views.

“He’s done his bit,” she shouted. “You pompous, overstuffed pig. Show them, Gil, show them your arm.”

 She dragged Gil’s arm from his pocket and raised it high. “He’s given one hand to the war, isn’t that enough?”

Silence reigned, followed by embarrassed muttering."

 

 

 

 

 

 

MEMORIAL DAY - DARING MASQUERADE

 MEMORIAL DAY AND MY BOOK - MARGARET TANNER
Call it blatant self promotion if you will, but I thought as it is Memorial Day in the US, I would post this battlefield excerpt from my latest romance novel, Daring Masquerade, which is set during the 1^st World War.

In Australia we remember our war dead, on ANZAC Day, 25^th April and also Remembrance Day/Armistice Day on 11^th November.

ANZAC Day commemorates the landing at Gallipoli in Turkey by The Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZACS) on the 25^TH April, 1915. And the 25^th April is now sacred. It is when we remember the brave men and women who paid the supreme sacrifice in the 1^st World War and in subsequent wars, 2^nd World War, Korea, Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan. These battlefields are also stained with American blood, as you would be well aware.
DARING MASQUERADE – Out on Kindle from Books We Love Publishing
The third battle for Ypres had begun. The first and second Australian Divisions marched through the ruins of Ypres in Flanders, and fought their way along the Menin Road ridge. Their ultimate destination was Passchendale.
It had been raining steadily, the front had turned into a sea of mud, criss-crossed with miles of concrete German blockhouses. A German arc of machine gun fire dominated the landscape and the casualties were terrible.
Ross despaired of the carnage ever ending. After one battle another always followed. Men died or were wounded; many simply disappeared into the mud.
Reinforcements came and went, followed by more reinforcements. Few old faces were left now. Increasingly, he feared he might never leave this chamber of horrors and return to Harry at Devil’s Ridge. Never get the chance to utter the words, ‘I love you,’ to his wife.
How much longer could his luck hold out? He had suffered several minor shrapnel wounds that only required a dressing.
On the morning of the fourth of October, 1917, Ross’ unit was sent to Broodseinde Ridge. Forty minutes before the attack, soldiers waiting in the rear a mile behind the line saw white and yellow German flares through the hazy drizzle.
0530 hours.  Heavy trench mortars fell on Ross’s men as they sheltered in shell holes. At 0600 hours, the British artillery barrage opened up and he waited. Another attack—more casualties in this endless saga of death and suffering.
White tapes marked the jump off area. When the signal for attack came, he urged his men on.
“Come on, come on.”
He stood up and started running. Officers led by example, he remembered from training. The men charged forward now, yelling and screaming.
A line of troops rose from some shell holes a little in front of them, and Ross suddenly realized they were Germans mounting a counter attack. Too late to do anything but keep on going.
He did not see where the firing came from, but felt a thud, first in one leg then the other. As he sank to his knees, he felt a bullet slamming into his chest. He toppled forward.  Soldiers ran over him. Boots pressing into his back forced him deeper into the mud.
This is the end. I’ll never see Harry again.
He regained consciousness. It was daylight. How long had he been lying out in no-man’s land? Groggily, he got to his hands and knees. Pain and exhaustion racked his body. Breathing was agony. The landscape see-sawed. Shell fire echoed in his ears.
What’s the use? All I have to do is close my eyes and sink back into the mud and oblivion.
Too tired to fight any more, he started slipping away. His body floated upwards and the pain disappeared.
“Ross, don’t leave me. Fight Ross, fight for me.”
“Harry?” He opened his eyes but he was alone.  Only dead men, twisted and grotesque lay out here in no-man’s land with him.
Did he want to leave Harry a widow at twenty? Never hold his son? Oh, God, he couldn’t die like a dog out here. His body might never be recovered. Harry would wait and mourn, but keep on hoping for years. She would never hear the words ‘I love you,’ fall from his lips. What a bloody fool he had been obsessing over Virginia, instead of letting himself fall in love with Harry. Now it was too late.  She would never know the true depth of his feelings for her. He couldn’t do it to her. He must survive.

http://www.amazon.com/Daring-Masquerade-ebook/dp/B0081CJECY/ref=sr_1_10?s=books&ie=UTG8&qid=13364772888&sr=1-10

Regards

Margaret