WWI Remembrance Project

PROPERTY OF

Evander Kane

June 22, 1915

So it begins. It’s been almost a year since

the fighting in Europe started – one bullet

in the head of an archduke an ocean away

and the whole world is at war. The papers

are calling it “The Great War” and I think

they’re right; seems like every able-bodied

man is heading to the front lines.

I enlisted today – I am now officially

Private Evander Penn Barclay with the 31st

Battalion, Alberta Regiment. I don’t know

how to explain how I’m feeling… I’m proud

to serve in the name of the King but I

don’t know if I’m ready to be a soldier.

My hope is to chronicle it all here in this

book so that, should the worst happen, there

is some record of me and my story.

July 26, 1915

We received our first anti-typhoid inoculation

today. Apparently over in Serbia, something

like 50,000 people have died from typhus

outbreaks since the start of the war and

we’re trying to avoid the same fate.

I’ve been busy tying up loose ends here in

Calgary – our battalion ships out to England

in about a month and a half. Seems like the

Americans might be joining our fight soon as

well – had the radio on in the shop the

other day and heard Wilson threatening

action because of the sinking of the RMS

Lusitania. It will certainly be interesting to

see how this all plays out…

August 7, 1915

The battalion and I received our second

anti-typhoid inoculation today and we have

42 days until we ship out to England. I

picked up my uniform from the tailor

today; it’s all suddenly becoming very real

that I will be leaving Canada behind and

fighting on foreign shores. I will be heading

to Halifax soon to take my place among

the ranks; I will write again when I have

arrived.

September 17, 1915



I am writing this by lamplight in the

barracks in Halifax unable to sleep. We

leave tomorrow at first light on the S.S.
Orduna to sail to England. I took a walk by

the port this afternoon and saw the ship

that will be home for the month it will take

us to sail across the Atlantic. I’ve never

sailed before and I can feel the nerves

building in my stomach; the ocean seems so

vast and so unknown, much
like what is waiting for us
in Europe.

September 18, 1915

We have officially departed for England; I

am currently sitting on one of the upper

decks hoping the sea breeze will help cure

my motion sickness. Being on the boat is a

difficult feeling to get used to; I have my

fingers crossed for smooth sailing all the

way.

There is a mix of emotions amongst my

fellow soldiers – everyone seems to be

either quite solemn and somber or buzzing

about with frenetic energy. I find myself

the latter and cannot seem to be still.

October 30, 1915

It has been chaos since we landed in England at

the beginning of October. Once we landed, we

went through the British countryside by train.

There’s talk now that the war might be over by

Christmas – it really gets some of the guys

going; everyone wants their chance to fight the

Germans first though.

We are stationed at a base in Shorncliffe;

currently they’ve got us in isolation tents to

prevent the spread of diseases amongst the ranks

but soon we’ll be moving into the general garrison.

I have been told each officer gets a short leave

at the end of our quarantine to explore the area

or travel to London for a
short visit. I am very much
looking forward to this – I
hope one day I can return
to England and see more of
this beautiful country.

November 28, 1915

We have been training alongside the British

military for a week now – I have learned

how to use my rifle, bayonet, and

grenades, and they talked us through

strategy for trench warfare.

The British seem to look down on the

Canadians; we can’t help our inexperience

with warfare but nevertheless every man of

my battalion has kept their head up, still

proud of the fact that we signed up to

serve.

December 25, 1915



Merry Christmas journal. The war is not

over, despite the rumours back in October.

Our battalion has been going through

continuous rigorous training alongside British

soldiers and troops here from across the

Empire. I’ve had the opportunity to meet

men from New Zealand and India which

was fascinating.

It's strange trying to feel some sort of

celebratory today when I am so far from

home and facing such atrocity. Men come

back to England from the front lines every

day missing limbs, covered in wounds, or so
broken they just stare right through you. I

pray for the safety of myself and the

men I have grown so close to and that the

war will come to and end.

January 1, 1916



It is a new year on the front and there is

still no word of our departure for the front

lines in France. It is cold and there’s a

permanent chill in the air. We continue to
run training exercise after training exercise

with the occasional military parade for a

visiting politician or high-ranking military.

After training each day, the men and I
frequent the YMCA that has been erected

in camp here. There’s this group from the

3rd Division who call themselves “The

Dumbells” who perform these hilarious musical

numbers on the stage there.

For a moment, you can almost imagine

yourself back home watching a performance

rather than here in the middle of war.

February 6, 1916

I had to ask one of the men to bring me

this book so I have something to distract

myself with. I wound up in the base

hospital; training accident this morning on

the fields.

I need to get discharged as quickly as

possible though; conditions here are grim.

We’ve seen men coming back from the front

lines injured and it’s normally a good thing

if they’re stable enough to make it back,

but I grow more terrified of what I will

face each hour I spend here.

February 28, 1916



They came around today with this little

book, offering each man a small page and a

pen to write our wills. I asked to make a

copy to keep in here; I’m not married like

some of the men here, so I left

everything in my name to my mother.

It was a sobering activity, especially now

that we have word that we’ll be departing

for France in just over a month.

Hopefully this will will never see the light

of day.



April 25, 1916

Our battalion disembarked in France today

and we’ve been assigned to the 6th

Canadian Brigade of the 2nd Canadian

Division.

There are men here from across Canada –

Winnipeg, Vancouver, Saskatoon, Port Arthur,

and more. There is a very different

atmosphere here versus at Shorncliffe; the

realities of war have become much more

serious.

We have been instructed to stay alert as

we could be deployed to the front lines on

any day based on how the battle goes. In

the meantime, we go back to training and

do our best to stay sharp.

July 1, 1916

I have been too exhausted to write. We

have been in France for two months now;

the days are getting hotter and longer and

there is no shortage of things to be done on

base.

Today marks the launch of a huge push

along the Somme River; the French are

supposed to lead the offensive, but

everyone is on edge. A victory there would

be monumental for the efforts against

Germany.

I am keeping all the men heading to the

front lines in my prayers tonight.

September 2, 1916



We are mobilizing quickly to head to the

Somme. The French bailed on driving the

campaign so the British are pulling as many

battalions as they can from their forces,

and we have been called to go.

We will be making our way to Pozières

which is currently under enemy fire.

May God be with us all...

September 11, 1916

We have arrived in Pozières just days after

Australian and British forces captured the

village from the Germans. The village is

devastated; this bunker is the only structure

that remains standing.

The men who survived
the front lines look as
though they’ve been to
Hell. Those that can
walk drift around as
though they’re in a dream, eyes glassed

over.

These are the men we have come to

replace. We will see battle soon; I will write

again as soon as I am able.

September 13, 1916



We stand ready to fight in two days time

alongside soldiers from the French Third

Republic.

This morning, these great mechanical beasts

rolled into camp. I had heard of these

tanks being developed back in Britain but to

see one up close is a marvel.

This will be the first time they are used in

active battle; I would like to see the look

on the German’s faces when these things roll

over the hill straight for them.

There are men here from every corner of

the world it seems – British, Canadian, New

Zealander, even the Crown Prince of

Bavaria will be serving alongside us.

The plan is to advance from Pozières and

attack German forces on a 1.6km front

along the Ovillers-Courcelette trench. To

give us an advantage, there will be a

bombardment by air right before we are to

charge.

September 18, 1916

I woke up at the base hospital back in

Shorncliffe and for a moment it was as

though the last seven months never

happened.

The last thing I remember is being deep in

a trench, the stench of gunpowder and men

thick in the air… It was early in the

morning, couldn’t have been later than 7.

We were given the all clear, jumped from

the trenches in Ovillers-Courcelette and

moved alongside the tanks. When I close

my eyes, I still hear the popping of their

guns…

The doctors say I was shot multiple times

by German soldiers and that the battle was

over in less than an hour.

Our side is calling it a victory and 125

Germans were taken prisoner thanks to our

efforts. Courcelette, Martinpich, and Flers

have been reclaimed and the nurses keep

telling me I’m a hero.

They had to operate on both of my legs

while I was in an out of consciousness. I've

got a long recovery ahead.

I certainly don’t feel like a hero sitting in

this bed while my brothers are still on the

front lines…

September 18, 1916

I woke up at the base hospital back in

Shorncliffe and for a moment it was as

though the last seven months never

happened.

The last thing I remember is being deep in

a trench, the stench of gunpowder and men

thick in the air… It was early in the

morning, couldn’t have been later than 7.

We were given the all clear, jumped from

the trenches in Ovillers-Courcelette and

moved alongside the tanks. When I close

my eyes, I still hear the popping of their

guns…

The doctors say I was shot multiple times

by German soldiers and that the battle was

over in less than an hour.

Our side is calling it a victory and 125

Germans were taken prisoner thanks to our

efforts. Courcelette, Martinpich, and Flers

have been reclaimed and the nurses keep

telling me I’m a hero.

I don’t feel like a hero sitting in this bed…

October 18, 1916

I have been in the Shorncliffe Hospital for

a month now recovering from battle. War

rages on and the evidence is clear in the

steady stream of men coming through the

doors. These poor young nurses are run off

their feet and the doctors can hardly keep

up.

I spend most of my days regaining my

strength to walk and chatting with those

soldiers who are recovering like I am. I

had some outside time and snapped a few

photos; I also got one of the nurses to take

one of me, my roommate and our favourite

nurses - Abby and Catherine.



December 25, 1916



It is my second Christmas serving in this

war though these days I haven’t been doing

much serving. The doctors say I’ll likely be

able to return to my regiment in January

so I’ve been doing extra exercises trying

to get back into fighting shape.

The war is lagging on and we're getting

word from home that everyone is remaining

optimistic that we will win this fight.

Hopefully we can live up to their

expectation...

January 7, 1917



So much for a return to duty... I went in

for my assessment and failed. My leg isn't

healed enough for me to run like they want

- if I were back in the trenches I would

put all my fellow soldiers on the line. The

nurses have tried to cheer me up but I am

completely miserable.

February 13, 1917

I am gathering my things to finally leave

the hospital! The medical board cleared me

two hours ago; I will be returning to base

duty effective immediately - I won't ever

be back on the front lines but anything is

better than staying here...



February 20, 1917



I've been back on base duty for a few

weeks now - it's nice to feel useful again.

Each day has been something different with

all of us working on odd jobs for all manner

of folks here on base.

Today I spent with two fellows from my

old regiment sorting boxes of ammo that just

arrived from the weapons manufacturers. I

keep thinking about the men still on the

front; keeping them all in my prayers as

the war wages on.

March 9, 1917



The YMCA on base held a market of sorts

for all of us today; they had boxes and

boxes of items from home for us to "buy"

with buttons and other tokens.

I grabbed a few things - a new book, some

playing cards, and a set of these oil

pastels. I was never a great artist but I

enjoyed sketching. Maybe if I draw out

the images in my head they won't bother

me as much...

This is what I remember from the front...
I wonder where those men are now

April 14, 1917



My leg started hurting again. It's been

two months since I was brought back to

base duty and I've done my best to keep

up and do my part but the past few

days...

I can barely stand on it for more than a

few hours and when I do move the muscles

are so stiff you'd think my leg was made

of iron.

April 15, 1917

Back in the hospital, this time it's the 13th

Canadian Military Hospital in Hastings.

April 20, 1917



I'm going in today for another surgery.

The pain in my leg was from a piece of

shell casing still there from last fall.

Apparently, they didn't feel it was

necessary to remove it, and now it's

affecting my muscle. They were able to

fit me in quickly so I'll be going under in a

few hours. Here's hoping for a speedy

recovery.



May 1, 1917



I took unassisted steps today for the first

time post-surgery. Hopefully I can return

to base soon and out of these hospital beds.

May 12, 1917



The wound on my leg from surgery has

healed and they're talking about discharging

me soon. I had to admit to one of my

nurses that I am nervous about going back

to my duties. I am sick of feeling worried

with every step, wondering if the pain is

going to come back. I know there's still

shrapnel in me so is it only a matter of

time before I am back here?

May 28, 1917

I was discharged this morning and welcomed

back on base by three men from my old

regiment who have also been assigned to

base duty.

It's nice to see familiar faces again...

May 31, 1917



I'm back in the 13th... nothing more to say,

tired of this.

June 5, 1917

I barely feel like writing but the nurses

say it's good for me. I had another x-ray

done - now on my right leg which showed

three more shrapnel pieces near my ankle.

They're scheduling me for surgery and I'm

starting to feel like Frankenstein's monster,

July 9, 1917



Another month has passed in hospital and I

have been discharged again. I know I'm

lucky - so many men were injured like me

and went home in a box but I am getting

so tired of the pain.

The surgeons and doctors and nurses have

done everything they can but there's just

so many little pieces of shrapnel they say

they'll probably never find all of them.

It's been more than two years since I

signed up to fight in this war and the

fighting on the front lines has only

increased. Some of the men have heard

from home and Canada is struggling to send

troops; not enough men are willingly signing

up...

August 15, 1917



We had to update our military wills again so

I was able to leave everything to Maggie

this time around. I hope one of these days

I can take her home to meet my parents

and show her Missouri - I think she'd like it

there.

January 1, 1918



Today marks the beginning of third year

I've been a soldier in this war. It's hard to

believe...

Everyone is tired and broken in some way -

men come back from the trenches shells of

who they were before and even those who

come back without injuries like mine seem

changed.

I am thankful every single day I was

pulled from the front lines before I saw

too much trench warfare - the stories some

of these men have... I shudder to think

about it.

January 31, 1918



I've been experiencing pain again for the

last week so I am currently in Woodcote

Park Military Convalescent Hospital for

some more x-rays.

They scanned my head and my left ankle

and found shrapnel in both places but it's

too risky to remove either.

I'm struggling - Maggie sees it, the

doctors see it, other men on base see it but

I don't know how I am supposed to feel

anything other than anger that I will be in

pain forever.

my ankle

how strange to

be able to see

the inside of


my head

April 18, 1918



I have been admitted to the 4th London

General Hospital. Maggie is thrilled as I

am close to her and she can visit me more.

They are looking for ways to get the

metal out of my body but I am not

hopeful. Word from the front seems positive

- maybe there is an end to this war after
all?

April 30, 1918



Spent the day being prodded by needles

for blood work. The stress of being in pain

and shuffling between hospitals has given

me a stomach ulcer. The doctors are trying

to determine if I need a bacteriological

examination to help get rid of it.

Oh... and I tested positive for syphilis...
I have to tell Maggie...

May 2, 1918

Completed my anti-syphilitic treatment

today and the ulcer in my stomach is

healing. I've been back on base for a

couple of days but I can feel the pain

creeping back in.

May 9, 1918



I'm back in the 4th although now it's been

renamed Kings College Hospital. I was paid

a visit by my commanding officer who

informed me that I am no longer

technically a member of the 2nd Canadian

Division due to my ongoing medical concerns.

I asked if I was being discharged and was

told no? But I am not an active member?

I have spent nearly three years fighting

and working for my country in this

godforsaken war only to be cast aside due

to injuries I sustained because of their

war?

Maggie says not to be upset... I told her

not to visit for a while...

May 11, 1918



They transferred me today from Kings
College to Rochester Row. It's a new

hospital and everyone seems to be in similar

positions as me - struggling with long term

effects of war injuries.

Some of the men here get letters from

friends on the front and they read them
aloud for us all over lunch. Seems as though

the Germans are struggling to keep up with

our offensives and then men there are

starting to think we could win this thing

before the year is through.

May 22, 1918

I've spent the morning with a terrible pain

in my right side... I've just told the nurse

and she's gone immediately the get a

doctor.

May 30, 1918

The pain from my last entry turned out to

be my appendix - it burst and I was

taken for emergency surgery to remove it.
After I was deemed stable, they

transferred me back to Kings College.

Maggie has not left my side since - seems

like I'm going to be here for a while.

August 2, 1918

I like it here - nothing about this place

feels like a hospital. There are gardens to

walk around in and our rooms feel more like

rooms rather than hospital beds. Maggie

came to visit for the first time today; we

sat in the garden with the sun on our faces

and it was the first good day I've had in a

long time.

August 12, 1918

I've been transferred again but for the

first time it's not a bad thing, it's an

upgrade. They converted the Palace Hotel

into the Granville Canadian Special Hospital

which is where I will stay to receive more

treatment and hopefully heal my body.

August 14, 1918

I had more x-rays done today; they had

to temporarily move me to Endsleigh Palace

Hospital. They've discovered that a piece of

shrapnel has moved and is getting closer to

my "os calcaneus" bone - I had to ask the

doctors how to spell that one a few times...

August 31, 1918

I'm back at Granville but I'm potentially

needing to be moved back to London. I can

barely move my leg; each movement causes

the backside of the leg to seize up and it

takes a while to become mobile again. The

doctors here think there must be another

bullet fragment in my leg causing this but

they're unsure of where...

October 1, 1918

The fighting on the front has increased

exponentially in the last few days. I've

heard some higher ups saying this is the

last push and the war will be won.

They are desperate for soldiers though. I
was brought into a room with the

Commanding Officer for the 2nd Canadian

Division and officially discharged from the

hospital and commanded back to base duty.

I am in shock. Maggie is in shock. Everyone

I know cannot believe they are taking me

back. I am gathering my few things that

I will bring with me as I have been

instructed to leave almost immediately...

November 11, 1918

War is over. Words I never thought I would

write. I have been back on base duty for

just over a month supporting the last

advances of our war effort.

The men who were on the front lines will

start returning any day now and we are

all waiting to know what to do next.

November 20, 1918

I received word I am being commanded to

return to Winnipeg, Manitoba to serve in the

Canadian Reserves. I have sent word to

Maggie - she only has ten days to pack

everything and get things squared away

here before we leave for Canada.