A Soldier's Wish

By Dawne McKenzie and Ernest Diss

Feb. 12, 1917
The world will settle down to peace and harmony and let us hope with the firm knowledge that there will never be such a holocaust of murder as this has been."

The year is 1915 and the world is in chaos. Ernest Diss was a successful entrepreneur running a car repair business in Los Angeles. He saw it as his duty to return to Canada and join the fighting, persuading his brother, Frank, to enlist with him.

He finished his training in Winnipeg, Manitoba, where he met Amy Graham at a dance. They corresponded at least weekly and often more frequently. Through his 187 letters, they fell in love, became engaged and planned their future together. Through those letters we are able to experience what life was for an ordinary soldier in England, Belgium, France and finally Germany. Ernest's descriptions of everyday life afford us a glance back in time.

Ernest was not a hero. In fact, because of his mechanical ability, except for a short time on the frontline constructing trenches he spent a large part of the war behind the lines building armaments. What he was was a musician, an explorer, an organizer and a romantic. He had three wishes: first that the war would end with the allies victorious and there would never be another war; secondly, that his brothers and he would come through the war unscathed; and thirdly, that he would return to Canada and start a family with Amy.

How different our world is today with instant communications, machines that provide us with our entertainment and the ability to get anywhere in the world within 48 hours. How similar in that we still value family over everything and we still possess a duty to the welfare of others and a loyalty to our country.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Jun 19, 2020
• ISBN: 9780228831471

Dawne McKenzie

Ernest Diss is the unknowing author of this book. Because he was a bit of a showman, he would be pleased to have his letters read and appreciated a century later.He immigrated to Canada at the age of fourteen. It speaks very well of his mother's tutelage that his descriptions of the world around him are so complete and well written. Perhaps that ability comes from his wide and varied experiences in the first twenty-eight years of his life before enlisting.Ernest does an excellent job of sharing his life with Amy. So much so, that she falls in love with him, agrees to marry him, and leaves her family to move to British Columbia.We are so fortunate that Amy saw fit to preserve her letters allowing us to share their world.Dawne McKenzie is president of the Hart Cam Museum Committee and lives in Hartney, Manitoba. One of her duties is to ensure all new artifacts that are donated to the museum are entered into the computer inventory system. When entering the letter Ernest wrote to Amy on the day WW1 ended, she became excited over its contents. She contacted Mary Graham to thank her for donating such an important piece of history. Mary informed her that there were many more letters and asked if she would like to read them. After doing so, she thought the letters should be placed into a book. Mary agreed and donated the letters to the museum. The museum committee endorsed the project. After digitalizing the letters, Dawne enjoyed researching the Diss and Graham family trees and writing the foreword and epilogue portions of this book.Dawne's main qualification is a deep appreciation of history and the belief that by looking back in time, we can better understand where we come from. In today's uncertain times of the Covid-19 virus, it is interesting to look back to 1918 and compare these times to those of the Spanish flu. Both were epidemics which originated from avian genes and killed millions of people worldwide. Both started out with flu-like symptoms and developed into pneumonia.Dawne's writing resume consists of writing a monthly column in the local newspaper featuring various artifacts and activities associated with the museum.She hopes you enjoy reading this book as much as she did, and gain insight into life which was much simpler one-hundred years ago, although just as uncertain and frightening.

Book preview

A Soldier’s Wish

Copyright © 2020 by Ernest Diss & Dawne McKenzie

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Tellwell Talent

www.tellwell.ca

ISBN

978-0-2288-3146-4 (Paperback)

978-0-2288-3147-1 (eBook)

This book is dedicated to

Amy Graham and Ernest Diss

For sharing their story with us

and to

Mary Graham

For caretaking their story and allowing us

to share it.

FORWARD

The following are letters written by Ernest (Ern as Amy called him) to his sweetheart, Amy Graham. In them he provides a glimpse of what the life was like in World War I for an ordinary soldier.

Ernest was born on Dec.19, 1887 to Alfred and Florence Diss in Colchester, England.

He was one of six children from that marriage. In 1902 at the age of 14, he immigrated to Canada with his brother Frank. On Oct. 15, 1915, he and his brother Frank volunteered to join the Canadian Army. As Frank was a carpenter and Ernest a mechanic who had spent some time working on the railway, they were assigned to the 1st Pioneer Regiment. That Regiment’s prime directive during the war was to supply the troops and keep the war machine running.

Amy Graham was born in the Hartney, Manitoba area in 1884, the third child of John and Sarah Graham. Amy took her normal training to become a teacher in Brandon and Winnipeg. She taught in a few country schools until she joined the teaching staff in Winnipeg and continued to live and teach there until her retirement.

Amy and Ern met at a dance at the Minto Armory in Winnipeg in November of 1915. The 1st Pioneers had been sent to Winnipeg to complete their training before being sent to England and on to Belgium. They dated during the time he was there and corresponded throughout the war.

We, at the Hart Cam Museum received a portion of the memorabilia talked about in the letters in 2007. On further discussion with Amy Graham’s niece, Mary Graham, we learned of the existence of this collection of letters. The letters are almost all written in pencil on onion skin paper and have survived for over 100 years in surprisingly good condition. It also helped that Ern had amazingly good penmanship. We felt that these historic documents should reach a larger audience than would be provided by simply placing them in our little museum and so decided to pursue having them published into a book.

Unfortunately some years ago, Mary Graham decided that some portions of these letters were just too personal and she cut those portions from the letters and destroyed them. Fortunately there are some references to their love story hidden within the surviving portions of the letters. However, we shall never know exactly when Ern proposed to Amy nor when she accepted. It would appear it happened in the fall of 1916 since that is when she begins to send him parcels that contain other things beside papers and he begins to correspond with her family members.

We hope that you enjoy this glimpse into the past as seen through the eyes of a man who spent the better part of four years of his life living in conditions that we cannot really imagine today.

Houslow Heath, London

Dec. 16th, 1915

Well I should like to send you a little memento for Xmas but money is scarce so I shall have to substitute the wish for the deed, but I can send you all the best wishes in the New Year.

There are 17 flying machines at the depot next to us, and today one of the aviators fell. I happened to be walking along the road when he was falling and I had to dodge to keep from being hit. The man was not even bruised and was swearing like a trooper when I got to him. The machine was an absolute wreck but he never had a bruise. It was remarkable as he fell at least 60 feet.

1st Canadian Pioneers C.E.F.

Army P.O. London England

Jan. 27, 1916

You ask me to tell you something of my life in Canada. Well, my stay there was rather brief to say the least. My brother and I came to Winnipeg, Canada in July 1902. I was only a youngster, a little over 14. From Winnipeg we went to Franklin, a little bit west of Winnipeg. Of course we went farming; we had some unique experiences which would be rather tedious to relate. We stayed at farming for about three years in that vicinity, then Frank went to Brandon and started working his trade as a carpenter. He married a school teacher, Miss Elizabeth Campbell, there. I think he stayed there four or five years, and then he went to Vancouver.

In the meantime, I went to work on a railroad gang, driving mules, finishing up with an outfit in Prince Albert, Sask. That was my first experience with the rough class of people and it was a perfect revelation to me. My thoughts often dwelt with longing on my home and family, but I stifled my feelings and stuck. Well, from there I came back to Winnipeg and after numerous experiences and wanderings from the Peg I went to Fort Frances, and so across to the U.S.A trying my hand at lumbering. One winter was enough so I quit that in the spring and landed up in the iron mines of Minnesota. Then I went on the stage for a while and drifted out west to San Francisco. I shipped as a sailor on a windjammer sailing vessel and visited China, Japan, the South Sea Islands, South America, New Zealand, and Australia and Alaska, ending up in Vancouver in May 1909. I was taken with severe illness there, inflammatory rheumatism, and spent five months in hospital. From there I went to California with Ringling’s Circus, looking after the elephants, reaching Sacramento, I left the circus and went to work in the grape vineyards, then down to Los Angeles and there I stayed to learn the motor trade. I had several jobs there and became quite proficient at my business. Having saved a bit of money, I went into business for myself, made good for a while, but owing to venturing on too large a scale, I had to give up or go bankrupt. I choose the lesser of the two evils. Then I went to Australia for four months and sized the country up, came back to Frisco" in May and returned to Melbourne, Australia in September, and stayed there for one year and three months, engaged in the motor business. I left Australia, came back to Los Angeles and got into the auto game once more, staying with it until July 1, 1915 when I gave up to come to Vancouver to enlist. I considered it was my duty to come and do my bit but tho’s it was a hard wrench, I came, found my brother in Vancouver and stayed working with him until he could be free to enlist. We joined up with the Canadian Engineers on Sept 7, went to Vernon training camp and were attached there until we transferred into the Pioneers. The rest you know. The hard part of it I had got into a good thing which was permanent and sure, making very good money, then I had to sacrifice all to come here. I did it willingly although it was a hard thing to make up my mind.

I really pity your young brother if he has to come over here; we are treated like dirt – not by the civilians, but by the military. The grub we got in Canada was questionable but here it is abominable; in fact it takes half my wages to keep myself decently fed. Just try and imagine pea soup and cheese with dry bread for supper after drilling all day. A sample breakfast is hash with bread and tea; pardon the slander on the tea. Our only decent meal is dinner and that generally consists of mutton. I can’t go it anymore! It’s mutton every day. When I get back to God’s country, I am going to procure three sheep and tie one to the front gate, one half way to the house, and the other at the front door and every time I have occasion to use the pathway from the house to the gate, I am going to kick the stuffing out of those sheep just to get even on the mutton we are getting so regularly here.

Yesterday, we went on a hike, made 9 miles in half a day. I enjoyed it very much, only I was so tired and weak after it on account of being so hungry. To start out on bread and cheese after a hard morning’s drill is not conducive to do much of it. The weather, which has been so rotten, has at last brightened up. The last few days have been exceptionally fine and pleasant. It is an agreeable change.

Quite an amusing incident occurred in our hut this morning. You must know it is against orders to allow children to come into the huts, which they have been in the habit of doing, to gather the scraps of bread, etc. after meals. Well, this morning after breakfast two little girls slipped into our hut unnoticed by the corporal in charge. While they were in, the Orderly Officer and Major McDonnell came in and caught them. They called the corporal who was at the far end of the shack and placed him under arrest, and then ordered two men to escort the two little girls, who could not have been over 7 or 8 years old, over to the guard house for two hours as punishment for coming in. It is the joke of the whole battalion, and they call the fellows who were the young ladies escorts nursemaids. In fact everybody is joshing the life out of them. The corporal comes up for court-martial tomorrow.

Next Saturday I have an engagement with two young ladies to meet them and show them around the barracks, then go to London for tea and after to go to the theater for the evening. The young ladies are my sisters. It is a great treat to take the girls out and I am looking forward to a gay old time. My sisters are jolly girls and call me their Cana-deen brother. We do have such good times together. I spend most of my time with them. I am extremely lucky to have them so near.

I should dearly have loved to have been at Minto Hall at the dance. To hear of dances like that brings quite a longing in my heart for the good old times. The dancing is so different here that I don’t enjoy it a bit. I ventured once but hold up my right hand and declare solemnly Never again in England.

The Canadian Government is acting extremely rotten to us. The latest orders from Canada is to the effect that all Canadian troops in the field (meaning England) shall have 50% of their wages held back until their return to Canada. Our Agreement signed when we enlisted was to the effect that we should receive $1.10 per day until we went to France or engaged in actual warfare. It is a flagrant breach of contract and so very unjust. I fear there will be trouble if this course is persisted in.

London, England

Jan 31, 1916

We have been having great excitement here. Last night the Zeppo raided London again. There were 6 or 7 of them but the papers said this morning that no considerable damage had been done. I am anxiously awaiting tonight’s papers so that I can find out what just did occur. I know that all the trains were stopped from about 7:00 p.m. to 10:55 p.m. A great number of fellows were caught away and could not get back to camp by tattoo, so they were all up to the Orderly room today and most of them got 3 days’ restriction of leave.

Regarding the order that 50% of the pay would be held back until return to Canada, on Saturday they paid us 30 shillings ($7.50) and said they would pay the balance on Monday, which amounts to about $18.00. Today, Tuesday, at noon the whole battalion paraded up in front of the Commanding Officer and demanded their money. They told us our demand would be taken to the War Office and they would try to get the money for us. There may be serious trouble with the Canadian troops if they don’t pay their money.

I had a great surprise Sunday night. I went over to my sister’s on Sunday evening and my younger brother was home from the trenches in France. It was one of the most welcome surprises of my life.

London England

Feb 11, 1916

I know how you feel about letting him go (brother Irvine) but all men will come to the front and show the stuff they are made of. I have sisters of my own and that’s one reason I am here. If you lose your brother you must not grieve too much, but realize that he died for honor of the British Empire and no more glorious end could any man have.

We have sharp frosts here, but no skating. The rain has given way to cold weather and now every day is clear and bright and life consequently wears a much brighter aspect. The London fogs are so depressing, especially under the present circumstances. We are O.K. so far, but they have not yet seen fit to give us anything but B. mutton. For instance we went on a long night march the day before last, and all we had to march on was boiled rice, or rather half-boiled rice. Quite a lot of the boys have had to fall out from faintness caused solely by hunger. It’s disgraceful and is the only thing that I strongly kick against.

London England

Feb. 16, 1916

Just a brief note to tell you that we are at last on our way to France. Just now, we are at Shornecliffe, Kent and we will be here two weeks to take a course in musketry, then off to France. This is an awful place, mud 9 inches deep and such a mess everything is in. We expect any minute to have the old tent down on us. We are under canvas so you can imagine how much we are enjoying Shornecliffe. It is cold and always wet. For the last 3 days we have been living on Bully Beef and tea. Conducive to good spirits? Can’t you have Parliament pass an act to forbid bully beef and mutton for a bill of fare?

Shornecliffe, Kent, England

Feb. 28, 1916

It has been snowing continually up to last night when it turned into rain. It’s raining now and tonight, I have to go on picket which is quite a new order of things, and was put on because two German spies were found in the camp with bombs in their possession. So now from 4 p.m. to 6 a.m. the whole camp is surrounded by patrols in pairs every fifty yards. Each pair is provided with 10 rounds of ammunition with orders to shoot if anybody refuses to answer the challenge. So we are getting an actual taste of warfare right here in England. It’s going to be a horrible night and I don’t look forward to it.

We leave on Wednesday for France and I am looking forward to it with pleasure. All we came here for was musketry practice, and the whole battalion will be through tonight. I got through last Monday and I made a very good score. Out of a possible 250 I made 216 which is a very good score with a new rifle and weather conditions which we have had. My best score was in a practice in which we had to fire 15 shots in a minute at 500 yards in the test. I made 6 bulls-eyes, 5 inners and 4 magpies. Of course, I had done a lot of shooting before and well-used to a rifle so there is not great credit due me on this score.

On the matter of leave, I am happy to say that I managed with the help of my sister to put one over. This is the way it worked. I arranged with Winnie to send me a telegram saying some member of the family was not expected to live. This is the message I received Florie is not expected to last the day through. Can you come? Florie is the cat. Well, I took the telegram to the Major; he sympathized with me very much but said he could not do a thing for me. I had to go to the Adjutant who sent me to the Colonel. He proved a sport and said that, although it was against orders to allow any man away on pass, in a case of this kind he would do so. So I got a pass from 6 o’clock Saturday night until midnight Tuesday following (3 days). I immediately proceeded to the Major and showed him the pass, and then I hit him up for some money. He only had 2 pounds ($10.00) so I took one pound and made tracks as fast as possible to London where I passed the time most joyously with my sister and her husband. I have told no one of this little subterfuge lest they let it leak out. I’m glad to report that Florie had a wonderful recovery and is now doing well!

We are still having fierce weather and the muck is getting deeper and deeper; indeed conditions are so bad here that I wonder if I have not contracted newmoney or Rewmaticke before this. My clothes have been wet through, yes even to the skin, for two weeks past and so were in our tents. We are not allowed lights or fire of any description so there is no facility for drying them. It’s very funny sometimes to see the fellows trying to negotiate the grassy, muddy slope from the kitchen to the tents. They are slipping and sliding and describing unbelievable gyrations and phenomenal acrobatics, and some of them finally measure their length in the mud. Of course, where it happens to be yourself that is the victim; there is no joke to be found.

Somewhere in Belgium

March 12, 1916

Just a line to let you know my new address. We arrived within the sound of the big guns last night, and now we are encamped 2 ½ miles behind the firing line. The country is very muddy especially around the camp if you happen to get off the pathway. Splosh! You go into a foot or so of very soft mud. We are in huts and as a whole are better off than at Shornecliffe. Water is rather scarce but we can put up with a little thing like that.

I haven’t received your parcel yet. Hope it soon comes as I am just craving for something sweet. You see, we are all broke, so cannot procure anything for ourselves and payday is in the dim future. Of course, it will come one day, but pro tem Alas! Alack!

Belgium

March 25, 1916

Well, we are getting down to business in earnest now and that, just now, consists of working parties at nights. Such a varied occupation too. One night we are engaged in putting up barbed wire entanglements; the next night perhaps building trenches with sandbags. It seems the queerest thing in the world to me. We start from one camp at about 6 p.m., march five miles, and then the company is divided into smaller parties, on to different jobs along the line of trenches. Just now the nights are as dark as a stack of black cats but we get illumination from German star shells which they send up every minute or so – such wonderful lights – they go perhaps 300 feet, then burst out into bright green light then float slowly to earth. Then we have to stand very still as the snipers are ready to start shooting at anything moving, and the least motion shows up tremendously in the glow of the starlight. We seem like a lot of ghouls flitting around in the darkness, talking in subdued whispers for we are only a few hundred yards from the German trenches. Every once in a while the crash of a rifle will break the stillness of the night and a bullet will come whistling close to you but we take no notice of rifle bullets like that; we know they are only chance shots. It’s when Fritzy turns on the machine gun that we hunt for cover, and believe me we lose no time in dropping! There’s no stopping to choose a nice soft clean place to drop into, but you just go down regardless. For instance, last night we were carrying barbed wire when Fritzy’s machine gun started sweeping the country side, then when I heard the bullet’s wicked little whistle, I just dropped and it happened to be in a nice soft bed of mud. I never noticed that until after the gun had stopped shooting. When he stops, you lie still for half a minute, then raise your head, get on your knees, then onto your feet, and if a twig or leaf should crack (or a rifle) down you go again for it is not healthy to stay above ground at such times. Every night somebody gets it, and as we go out to work it’s a question who will it be? or how many will come back tonight? It’s nerve-straining work, but the Pioneers are taking it like the good bunch they are. We work until 12 p.m., then march back to camp and have a drink of rum dished out as our supper and manage to get to bed by 2:30 a.m., then we sleep until 10:00 a.m. and the rest of the day is ours. Supper is at 5 p.m. and start work at 6 p.m.

Very dirty weather lately, heavy snow the last two days although it does not stay, but melts and