Circumstances changed on August 7th. That was the day it became known that Colonel Sam’s view of the recruitment of the expeditionary force had prevailed. Earlier that day, telegrams had been sent to the militia commanders across the country, advising them that they would be responsible for the recruitment of the volunteers that would form the Canadian Expeditionary Force. With that information and hanging on to those first few words of his commanding officer’s missive, “pending further orders,” Roy went to the telegraph office to ascertain whether a telegram with such further orders had been received.
“How many times did you go to the telegraph office today, Roy?” Bill asked him that night as the family gathered on the Darlings’ verandah.
Roy hesitated before answering. “A few.”
“A few?” Ina asked incredulously.
“A few plus a few,” Roy confessed.
“Six times?” Uncle William asked, clearly startled. “I hope you are not bothering Mr. Thauburn.”
To Roy’s negative reply, Ina issued a small harrumph. We all looked at her.
“Do you know something about this, Ina?” Aunt Charlotte asked.
“No. No,” Ina said, blushing slightly. “It’s just that…well, I can imagine that it could be bothersome to have someone asking the same question of you six times in a day.”
We couldn’t really blame Roy for being anxious. Though the local armouries were not open for recruitment on August 4th, the day that hostilities were declared, reports abounded of the hundreds of men who encircled armouries across the country that day and the next. With no other way to disperse them, by the night of August 5th, the armouries began opening their doors to applicants. Roy was beside himself at the notion of new recruits being accepted in Winnipeg while he was still in Brampton. Colonel Sam said he would take any man who wished to serve. There were so many men who wished to serve, Roy was afraid that his captain might not need him.
Uncle William tried to calm him. “The armouries are taking the particulars of these men because they do not know what else to do with them. They are giving them application forms. That is all.”
“Be patient, Roy,” his mother said. “You’ll hear soon if you should return to Winnipeg early or if you should go directly to Camp Petawawa.” We all thought it would be a shame for Roy to travel twelve hundred miles west from Toronto to Winnipeg, only to take another train east from Winnipeg to Petawawa, a town two hundred and fifty miles northeast of Brampton.
“I’m not sure the troops will be gathering in Petawawa,” Uncle William said to everyone’s surprise.
“What?” Roy said. “Why wouldn’t we gather there?” Petawawa was Canada’s largest military camp.
“The talk is that Colonel Sam has other plans for this new Canadian volunteer force. Apparently, he doesn’t want to use the grounds that have traditionally been used by the regulars. He wants a new training ground for the volunteers before they depart for England. Richard Blain told me about it while we were waiting to commence our meeting today with the local grain dealers.”
“I continue to be impressed by how much time you spend with our Conservative Member of Parliament,” Father said once again, in a way that made it clear he was really not impressed at all.
“Colonel Sam has his eye on a site northwest of Quebec City. Sal Cartier or something like that. I’ve never heard of it before.” Far from providing a balm to Roy, the additional information his father imparted only stoked his anxiety.
“Do you think I should send another telegram?” he asked one and all.
“No!” we cried in unison. It would have been his fourth in as many days.
“No, Roy,” his father repeated. “I do not. It will take time to get this Sal Cartier—or whatever it is called—to be prepared. The land has to be cleared. Latrines, plumbing, electricity, and telephone lines have to be installed. Buildings, parade grounds, and rifle ranges have to be constructed. I doubt any troops will be called up before September.” That additional information seemed to appease Roy. He did not suggest sending another telegram or making an earlier departure for Winnipeg for a full twelve hours.
* * *
It was soon revealed that Uncle William’s knowledge of the purchase and transport of wheat and flour exceeded his knowledge of military matters. The new military training grounds were being made ready in record time. Within ten days of the hostilities commencing, the local volunteer militias were preparing to be mustered.
Working an overnight shift at the telephone switch, Ina returned home the morning of Friday, August 14th, while my parents, Aunt Charlotte, Uncle William, and I were eating breakfast. She told us about one of the last calls she placed late the night before. It was from Captain Baldock, the regimental commander of the Peel 36th Regiment, to our Member of Parliament, Richard Blain.
“Ina, you know you’re not supposed to listen to the calls you connect,” Mother reprimanded. Ordinarily, it was Father who took Ina to task for this. I took pleasure in the scolding. There was a time when anything that brought Ina discomfort brought me an equal amount of pleasure. But that was less the case now. No, my pleasure on this occasion was derived from the knowledge that I was not the only member of our family who eavesdropped on other people’s conversations. Further, I took delight in my higher moral ground. Unlike Ina, I generally did not disclose to others what I surreptitiously overheard.
“And if you accidentally overhear a conversation you are not to repeat it to others. How many times—”
“That’s enough, Mother,” Father interjected. Mother stopped to let Father assume his ordinary role as the dispenser of discipline.
“Will it affect the Brampton boys?” Father asked.
“Yes,” she said. “They’re all being called up.”
All being called up. I was horrified. All of the Brampton boys. This was it. This was what I feared. I thought of Jim and his best friend, Eddie, and all the boys they worked with. I thought of Clarence Charters and Dutch Davis and all of the members of the Excelsior lacrosse team that went west earlier that very summer. I thought of the members of the Young Men’s Debating Society, of which Jim was a member and all of the boys in his Sunday school. I thought of Ina’s friend Michael and all the boys that had been at her high school graduation dance. Did the Brampton boys include those who were visiting Brampton at the time, like Bill and Roy? Not that either of them would mind if it did.
Father continued to question Ina, but I heard none of it. I was desolate at the thought of all these boys going to war. It had only been a month since I had concluded the future was so bright.
Eventually my tears turned into sobs and my sobs into wails. “Jessie, what is the matter?” Father demanded. “Why the deuce are you crying?”
Why was I crying? Why were the others not crying? “Jim,” I said through what were now heaving sobs. “Jim.”
“What about Jim?” Father asked.
“I don’t want Jim going to war,” I managed.
“No one wants Jim to go to war,” Father snapped, “least of all Jim. Jim isn’t going to war.”
