The thought of war had always been repellent to me, and many an argument I had had with the German baker in whose house I roomed, on the subject of compulsory military training for boys.  He often pointed out a stoop-shouldered, hollow-chested boy who lived on the same street, and told me that if this boy had lived in Germany he would have walked straighter and developed a chest, instead of slouching through life the way he was doing.  He and his wife and the grown-up daughter were devoted to their country, and often told us of how well the working-people were housed in Germany and the affairs of the country conducted.

But I think the war was as great a surprise to them as to us, and although the two women told us we were foolish to go to fight—­it was no business of ours if England wanted to get into a row—­it made no difference in our friendly relations, and the day we left Clara came to the station with a box of candy.  I suppose if we had known as much then as we do now about German diplomacy, we shouldn’t have eaten it, but we only knew then that Clara’s candy was the best going, and so we ate it, and often wished for more.

I have since heard, however, of other Germans in Canada who knew more of their country’s plans, and openly spoke of them.  One of these, employed by the Government, told the people in the office where he worked that when Germany got hold of Canada, she would straighten out the crooked streets in our towns and not allow shacks to be built on the good streets, and would see to it that houses were not crowded together; and the strangest part of it is that the people to whom he spoke attached no importance whatever to his words until the war came and the German mysteriously disappeared.

* * *

I never really enlisted, for we had no recruiting meetings in Trail before I left.  We went to the skating-rink the first night, about fifteen of us, and began to drill.  Mr. Schofield, Member of the Provincial Parliament, and Hill were in charge, and tested our marksmanship as well.  They graded us according to physical tests, marksmanship, and ability to pick up the drill, and I was quite pleased to find I was Number “One” on the list.

There was a young Italian boy named Adolph Milachi, whom we called “Joe,” who came to drill the first night, and although he could not speak much English, he was determined to be a soldier.  I do not know what grudge little Joe had against the Germans, whether it was just the love of adventure which urged him on, but he overruled all objections to his going and left with the others of us, on the last day of August.

I remember that trip through the mountains in that soft, hazy, beautiful August weather; the mountain-tops, white with snow, were wrapped about with purple mist which twisted and shifted as if never satisfied with their draping.  The sheer rocks in the mountain-sides, washed by a recent rain, were streaked with dull reds and blues and yellows, like the old-fashioned rag carpet.  The rivers whose banks we followed ran blue and green, and icy cold, darting sometimes so sharply under the track that it jerked one’s neck to follow them; and then the stately evergreens marched always with us, like endless companies of soldiers or pilgrims wending their way to a favorite shrine.