“Yesterday’s mail
from the old country brought several letters from those who left with the first
Hamilton contingent, and who are now camped on Salisbury plain.”
Hamilton Herald. November 03, 1914.
Among the letters
received from England on November2, 1914 was one from the son of the Archdeacon
of the Church of the Ascension, Lieutenant Reginald Forneret addressed to his
mother, a letter she took to the Herald :
“Dearest Mother – At last,
I have a chance to send you a letter. I hope you got my cablegram all right,
likewise the wireless I sent. Your wireless was an inspiration. It was awfully
hard luck I couldn’t see you before I left, but you can get some idea of active
service discipline.
“Well. We have had some
voyage. It has taken a long time, because the whole fleet had to accommodate
its pace of that of the slowest ship. I will try to give you some sort of
consecutive idea of our voyage.
“After we dropped
down the river, as you saw us, we kept on going that night; and when we woke,
the shoreline was very rugged. We soon discovered a speck on the horizon,
which, as we approached it, developed into a government patrol steamer, a sort
of a small torpedo boat type. The reason for its presence was soon apparent for
as we rounded a frowning headland and steamed into a long and picturesque bay,
we could see liners – five – seven – twelve – fifteen – twenty-two – thirty –one
– and cruisers, low, gray war craft to protect the great array of
liner-transports there assembled. The next afternoon we sailed out, in earnest
this time. When we finally maneuvered into position, we sailed, probably the
greatest single transport flotilla ever undertaken at one time in the history
of the world. It was a sight, three long lines of rolling and pitching transports,
great ships in lines, varying from three to five miles in length, according to
the weather, and at the head of each line, a tireless, vigilant cruiser, small
in comparison to the huge bulk of the transports, but watchful and
wicked-looking. Then one day we saw strange smokestacks and masts on the
horizon, and were told it was the Glory, an extra battleship guard. A couple of
days later, we saw away off to port, a huge, hideously ugly craft. It was H. M.
S. Princess Royal, the very newest and most formidable naval war machine. She
is a battle cruiser carrying no less than ten 13.5 guns, huge things that fire
twenty miles and throw a projectile of over a ton in weight. She also carries
other guns and various engines of destruction and is capable of great speed.
All we could see at her distance was a long, gray squat hull, with three great
funnels and a tower of heavy fighting type. WE could see her from our state
room porthole. There she was when we first looked out in the morning, and when
evening blended the sea and sky, she slowly disappeared in the twilight, but we
knew she was there, grim and mighty, and it gave a sense of strong security.
Then one day, one of the events of our lives happened. In the afternoon, about
5 o’clock, the cry went about the ship, ‘the Princess Mary’s coming!’ Sure
enough, she was. We crowded in the rail to watch her as she lazily overtook us.
She was paying us the compliment of an afternoon visit. On she came, looming
larger and larger. Now we could make out the great guns protruding from the
forward Turrets. Now we could the crowded fighting tops, now the decks,
stripped to the steel plates for action. Now we saw the crew, hundreds of them
, along the decks. Now she was up to our stern. Her band was playing ‘Oh,
Canada. As she started to draw abreast, there was a broadside of British cheers
from her – crash – crash – crash with a vibrant human note of patriotism and
fellowship. Then we went clean mad. We scrambled to deck, taking places of
vantage, and cheered and cheered and cheered till we were hoarse and dizzy.
Soon she sailed past, proud, rugged, ugly, huge and magnificent. Our ensigns
dipped and the deep-throated greeting crashed and echoed from ship to ship till
she passed on and we stood gazing devouringly after her. There wasn’t anything
to say. It was just Britain’s glory on the sea, and we were British. A senior
officer, clinging to the deck next to me kept repeating hoarsely to himself,
his eyes shining through tears – ‘My God, my God!’ – like that.
“So the voyage went.
We passed several liners and a couple of great sailing ships in full sail. One
day, a British cruiser, bound at full speed on a distant mission, came hustling
through our lines, dashing the spray high over her bows as she dove into the
waves. From her mast head, there whipped a line of brilliant signal flags. ‘What
does she say?’ we asked a ship’s officer, who was preparing a string of flags
to reply. ‘She says Good luck, was his laconic answer. She soon dwindled in the
distance astern, leaving her flying encouragement on our hearts.
“Well, things went on
ordinarily until one quite rough and hazy morning, we could just discern once
in a while through the driving mist, an outline of the coast of England. , the
mother country we had come to protect. We sailed on when, the weather becoming
clearer, we made out a sort of spar sticking out of the channel at some distance. I got a pair of
field glasses and the Eddystone lighthouse sprung into view. I could also make
out some of our ships which had gone ahead, making for the shore just beyond
the lighthouse. Just then a wild cheer from the troops on the other side of the
ship sent us rushing across and there was a long, black destroyer putting past.
So finally, we came to Plymouth, one of the historic ports of England. On the
hills to the right was the green on which Drake played his memorable game of bowls.
The hills are beautifully green , divided into fields by very neat and pretty
hedges. As we were towed into the harbor, two submarines plowed past us with
only their conning towers showing, which were packed with observers. There were
old battleships like the Victory, fat war-scarred old warriors now used as
training ships. There were battleships
and cruisers and destroyers and submarines and forts and magazines and guns and
great, mad crowds and a constant roar of cheers and steamer whistles and waving
of handkerchiefs and hats and everything wave able, and I started to weep and
realized that I was a fool, and then saw others doing it. Well, you know, you
just can’t use ordinary words to describe such things. But there was one big
idea, the empire and the king. God bless him.
“We have not landed
yet, but are still moored in the stream. English excursion steamers bring
excited crowds, which break into eruptions of waving handkerchiefs and hats and
things, and other demonstrations of enthusiasm.
“I will write again when
we get settled in wherever we are going. In the meantime, my address is marked
on one of the outings. I am in H company, Tenth battalion.
“With heaps of love
to you and Marion and father and remembrances to Matilda, I am always
“Your
loving son,
“Reg.”1
1 “Hamilton
Boys Send Letters Home : Lieut. Forneret Brilliantly Describes Trip Over and
Reception.
Hamilton
Herald. November 3, 1914.
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