Naive youth greeted war with enthusiasm
But also evident in 1914 Gazette reports was the unsettling spectre of doubt
The announcement of Germany’s declaration of war was received with mixed feelings by the vast throngs crowding the city thoroughfares last night. Apart from the younger generation who predominated in the boisterous demonstrations ... the more sober-minded, realizing to the full what a cataclysm the announcement portended, received the news in awe. — The Gazette, Wednesday, Aug. 5, 1914
The tension had been building for days, and when the news came at midnight Aug. 4 that Britain — and Canada with it — would join the war against Germany, Montreal erupted with enthusiasm. In the days that followed, the streets downtown were packed as militia units paraded to and from their armouries. Ordinary Montrealers cheered them madly, even falling in to march beside them.
The cheering men and boys were not in uniform, not yet, but many soon would be. That was a large point of the parading: to encourage recruiting.
Everywhere there was camaraderie between French and English, though some anglos drew the line at fraternal kisses. “In front of the French consulate,” the Gazette said, “a native of Sunny France, on seeing an officer of the local militia approaching, essayed the same form of greeting, only to meet with a hearty handshake and a no less hearty slap on the back.”
Not everyone was enchanted by the pageantry. Phillips Square was also the scene of an impassioned anti-war speech by a local socialist, Jonathan Knight, who urged working men not to be “led away by the fifes and drums” into a war concocted by capitalists to preserve markets.
Elsewhere in the Gazette’s reports, we see time and again the unsettling spectre of doubt. The evening after war was declared, Ste-Catherine St. was “ablaze with the war spirit” — not just in the parading regiments but also “in the more sober-minded who looked on with serious mien considering what war really meant.”
When some cadets went by, their “joyous marching” impressed onlookers with “mingled feelings of admiration for their enthusiasm and an involuntary sadness that the idea of war should ever be associated with boys in their ’teens.”
Montreal’s elite were not slow in responding. As war was declared, industrialist Hamilton Gault rushed to Ottawa offering his money to raise a regiment of 1,000 men; thus was founded the Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry.
Financier J.K.L. Ross donated $500,000 for the purchase of machine guns, and later paid for three navy patrol boats. Lady Drummond, the widow of a Bank of Montreal president, offered to maintain six or eight nurses overseas at her own expense.
Gault joined the regiment he founded (and would lose a leg in the fighting), and Ross served as a naval officer. Even Lady Drummond went overseas, to head the Canadian Red Cross’s information bureau in London.
Montreal city hall did its part. When the mayor, Mederic Martin, was told a number of French nationals whom the city employed wanted to return home to enlist, “he leapt to his feet,” we reported, “declaring, ‘They shall not suffer for it. There is a drop of French blood in me yet. Every one of them will get their positions back when they return.’ ” Policemen similarly were given leave to sign up.
The port was put on a war footing, and entry passes were required. Militia detachments guarded the waterfront, the Victoria Bridge and the Lachine Canal.
Even Boy Scouts were pressed into service. “Those of the scouts who hold the cyclist badge will be used as messengers, or rather orderlies, attached to the armories of the various city regiments,” we reported.
Those armouries were nearly swamped by men eager to join up.
After the armistice four years later, Canada had suffered 60,661 dead, and untold numbers more were condemned to live on with minds and bodies irreparably shattered.