STRANGE ADVENTURES

Mount Ida Chronicle, Volume XLV, Issue XLV, 13 July 1917, Page 1

STRANGE ADVENTURES

AT THE FRONT. That " truth is stranger than fiction" has been illustrated in countless forms since the outbreak of war, but it is very questionable if it has been exemplified in stranger fashion than by the dramatic meetings and remarkable reunions of relatives aud friends, spmetimes amid the inferno of battle, or it may be in the quietude of the hospital ward! Truly, the war has been responsible for many extraordinary happenings! Ar^i le story of how Driver William MKenna. of the R.F.A., met the sou whom he hadn't seen for years its one .of the most dramatic of these. For a number of years young M'Kenna—a gunner in the Artillery—had been in South Africa with his regiment, and was sent to France shortly after the beginning of hostilities. L'uknown to him, his father—an old soldier—had at the first smell of powder reenlisted, and was also sent to the front. One day Driver M'Kenna was driving his gun team over the rough ground, when suddenly a sturdy ■ Tommy took a living leap and landed beside him on the "gun carriage. "How are you getting on?" shouted the newcomer, with difficulty making his voice heard above the rattle of wheels and the thud of hoofs. Driver M'Kenna looked at the man, and when the team reached smooth ground asked: "Do you know me?" " I should think I just do, was the answer. " I come from Jarrow." said young M'Kenna. "Do vou come from there?" . "I do." " Well, I'm afraid you still have the better of me," qnoth the veteran. I doivt know you." ' What!"' said the other, " vou don't "know your own son!" I nearly collapsed with surprise," said Driver M'Kenna. in writing of the matter to his wife. "But directly he took off his cap X knew hini :s * " MY FATHER, TOO !" The second battle of Ypres was the sce.ne of a meeting scarcely less remarkable; A platoon of Canadians was on its way to the trenches when it came across a ■ wounded colonel lying on the ground, unable to move, and two of the men were detached to carry the officer back to the field hospital. The colonel, recognising something familiar in one of the bearers, asked him his name. A few* more eagei questions followed, and the truth flashed simultaneously on both. The father had .at last met on the battlefield the son whe had gone many years before to Canada and of whom ho had lost all trace. Probablv stranger still is the story told ot a youthful private of Hussars. While

enjoying a few days' rest in a village be and our lines after a spell in the trenches lie made the acquaintance of a Canadiar sergeant some 20 years his senior. Durim conversation one day he discovered thai Ins new friend was a Yorkshireman. "Sc ! ' m said. "What part do yon com. from.' From llradford." "That'sodd; 1 come from too. Do you hap -pen to know JShn B-y—, 0 f Manmngham He smy father.' -•' Know him! ilhoul. think so, was the Startling answer •aes my father, too!" • Thus by the whirligig of war. two bro thers who had never before set eves-oi . each other were brought togother. for th , Canadian had left his Yorkshire home jus ■' Sr\i f e \ of , 'v s br ° ther ' ( until that day./lie had never even seen - , ma ßinatio.i can scarcely conceive the ur i bounded amazement and absolute joy c i n?u ne 0 tj,loSe totally unexpected meetings t . "ccur. too, in such a casual ye . thnllingly dramatic fashion at times tha it really makes one marvel at the straim ness of it all. D ■ THE FIRST MAX IN THE TRENCHES l c th , :lt remarkable family reunioi for example, on the battlefield' at Ypre< .• w . h f u Bandsman Ettridge; a Selby resei vist, met Ins two brothers in the trenches A tew days after his arrival in Frauc< «

Ettridge and his battalion were ordered up to the firing line. The first man he saw in the trenches was his brother Alfred, whom he had neither seen nor heard from for years. They were both overjoyed at the. meeting; but to cap all a younger brother, who belongs to the Red Cross Corps, came on the scene, and the family reunion was complete. Sometimes, like "snips that pass in the night, ' and speak each other in passing "—it is just a grip of the hand, a word or two, and off again. This, too, after maybe not having seen each' other for years. An incident of this kind is related bv a corporal in the R.F.A. when writing to'his wife. _ He says: 'STo-dav we passed two batteries from India. They were spick and span, in grand, condition, and their horses were a revelation. Each battery is accompanied by a number of natives, some driving and others acting as grooms and artificers. \ These, wear their native costumes, which give a picturesque effect to theje units. Many of onr men recognised old chums witli whom they had served in

India. v leai's and years had passed since then, but a 4 Hallo, Bandy V or < Hookey : or ' Jack, 5 and a hurried shake of the hand, and we passed on. One case stuck m J' mind. I had- dismounted, and walked to the head of our column, when a young ■ fellow in the Indian battery asked me if we had a Bombardier —— with us. I replied that we had a corporal of that name in the rear of the column. ' I'm his brother,' he said, ' and we haven't met for five years.' And the?" were both youngsters ! I passed word down the line, hut the boy from India did not wait.N He made a bee-line for the rear. I diet not see the meeting, but it could not -have lasted more than five minutes, and ''then thev passed on. Such is the'maimer of soldiers—five years' separation, a shake of the hand. Smd off again." A MOTOR CYCLIST'S ADVENTURE. A strange and romantic story of the war was a few months ago told bv a correson the western front-. "The owner of-a fine side-car outfit enlisted, and in i due course was 'sent to a, training camp. Before leaving home he. taught his -wife to drive the,, outfit-, and left her with strict injunctions to keep the petrol burning till lie came home, and have as good a time as possible. She complied, and, being very keen on side-earring, used the machine considerably. But dark days came. Her husband was sent to Flanders, and one dreadful morning she received a letter telling her that he had died on the field of honor. For months her mind was numbed with /grief. . Then, as she recovered somewhat from the shock, she felt • that, in honor to her husband's memory, she must do something to help the brave fellows who had been his comrades in arms. She had had no training in musing, so all she could think of was to apply to a hospital for permission \o take out convalescents for short runs in the side car. She took out many, and heard stories that made her realise what genuine > heroism had been shown bv all ranks. One day, when she had driven to the hospital, a man who had lost a leg was brought out to her. The nurse ,said he was a. sad case, as he. had completely lost his memory. A glance showed the Samaritan '" side carist" that the man was her husband'. He had been frightfully injured by a shell, and the shock had temporarily destroyed all memory of his previous life. He had beeu picked up on the field almost naked, his identification disc had been lost, and practically all his' companions had been killed. His wife nursed , him back to health; and now, when the two are seen out together, is is she who always drives. STRAXGE- HOSPITAL MEETINGS. - The long aim of coincidence has played i not : i few strange pranks throughout the war. * One was the recent- meeting of two . 'soldier brothers in Oakbank Hospital a iter having been parted for years. They ; m different regiments, but, wounded about the same time, were actually brought over E 'V' 1 same boat and train. Thev were both taken to 'Oakbank Hospital, without ' meeting. .Still ignorant of each others b presence, they were installed in different _ wards. It was only the inquiries of the chaplain that discovered the clue which brought them together, when thev were put into beds side by side. As one~ of the • sisters remarked, ■ "they hardly slept a - * i they were so excited." Here is another hospital coincidence > ol 'k 0l ~ c rash of arms : A young §ol<Jier was severely wounded iq pile of the

big " pushes'" in France. He lost consciousness, and when he regained it he was lying comfortably in a bed in a ward of a hospital. His first words were vvhere am I;' The nurse told liim that- . he was in London * that during the period of his unconsciousness he had been, transported across the Channel, and that his wounds had been tended. He asked the name of the hospital, the number of the r, F l arc ' : le < k °* .the week, and the hour. The nurse told, him. "I say, nurse, you might tell my dad lam here." The nurse looked at him, thinking "the poor lad wag ' in a. delirium. All right, nurse; my dads in the next ward now. You know, he is the surgeon there, and this is his visiting day." And so it'was. The father was in the next ward performing his work, thinking all the time that his son was in France. He did not even know that the boy was wounded, far less that he was being tended a few yards away.