The witty, bitter and caustic memoirs of an anonymous Canadian stretcher-bearer who served during some of the fiercest fighting on the Western Front in 1916 and 1917 before being invalided back to his native land."FOR military reasons, it has been judged wiser to withhold the full name of the Canadian Stretcher Bearer until the close of the war."However, it may interest his readers to know that he is an Old Country-man, although he is now in the Canadian Expeditionary Force, and earlier had lived in the States. On the 31st May, 1915, he enlisted. Six weeks later, with the earliest of our letters, we find him in England, and rebelling against the unsatisfactory nature of service in what he caustically terms a Safety-First battalion. It was only a matter of time, however, before he caused himself to be transferred to hospital service, crossing to France to take a place as orderly in No. 3 Canadian General Hospital at Boulogne, where he arrived early in 1916. From that time on until the 23rd August, 1917, when he was gassed and sent to Blighty, the story has been left entirely in his own hands, to tell it as convincingly as may be."Since then, he has been, first in hospital in England, then in the First Reserve Battalion, awaiting the call back to service in the trenches."This call, however, is sounding fainter and more remote. A cable has been received, this morning, saying that he is being sent back to Canada, his active service at an end." OTTAWA, Fifth December, 1917
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