BX July 17, 1916

The Soldier’s Life Off Duty – Capt. A.E. Lavell Tells How Men Pass the Time When The Work is Done – The Recreation Tent Always in Demand – “Sing-Songs” are Bringing Out Much Talent Among the Boys of the 125th Who Are Enjoying to the Full Their Life at Camp Borden

Dear Expositor,

I am writing this in my tent. It is near the northwest corner of our lines, on the north line of tents. Facing me are the tents of the 114th. To my left is our parade ground which is backed by a deep wooded ravine in which yesterday we had a bush fire that for half an hour kept a battalion or two busy. Further west, beyond the creek, are rolling sand plains, north of which are the ranges, and further west the blue hills. The sunsets are glorious. To the east, south and north of our tents like the hundreds of tents of the rest of the battalions of this big, dusty, far-stretching training camp.

In the centre of our (125th) camp is our recreation and canteen tent, the biggest and best of its kind in the whole camp, frequented more or less all day and jammed at night. It is 100 feet by 50 feet. At one end is the canteen. I have charge of the rest of it and have been able, through the kindness of many Brantford and Brant County friends, to fit it up in a way that has already given the soldiers much pleasure. I am sure that it would do good to the folks who contributed to the chaplain’s fund, either in money or goods to see what it means to the men. A platform 10 x 14 x 2 feet lies in the middle of the north end of the big tent. This is backed by a big Union Jack. To the west of the platform are shelves on which lie the magazines handed in to me before we left home, at least all that are left lie there now. On Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning I gave out six hundred, and the men were told not to hand them back but to pass them around to one another. I am keeping the rest of the boxes to give them on the coming Saturday and Sunday. I am looking to Brantford and Paris citizens to send me more very soon.

To the left of these shelves is a big case in which I keep the writing paper and envelopes which anyone who wants any can get for nothing. Right in front of the platform, stretching the full 14 feet is a writing table on which are fastened six ink bottles. Pens are also provided. Further back on one side are rows of benches and on the other side are tables either for writing or for games. Checkers and crokinole are on these. At night five or six big gasoline lanterns hang well up and brilliantly light the whole tent. 

On the platform are the phonograph and the piano, covered with a Union Jack and not a night passes but these are well worked. Many of the men play the piano and they are permitted to do so whenever they are off duty. Someone gets at it every night and we have fine “sing-songs” and concerts. Generally the tent is filled to capacity. Corporal (Rev.) A.E. Elliott usually presides at the piano, but once in a while Major H.K. Jordan is able to get away from his many duties and handles the old piano as he once handled Brant Avenue Church organ. The program is a “pick-up” one and we get a great variety of pieces, many of which are really excellent songs, dances, recitations, etc. We usually finish up with a verse of a familiar hymn and always with a few words of prayer for our loved ones at home, for our country and our comrades at the front and for ourselves. Then tattoo sounds and the men go to their tents for the night. On Sunday night the sing-song is chiefly of familiar hymns and I have books which Pte. J.T. Bennett, my efficient batman, distributes among the men who crowd in. They sing hymns better than any other kind of songs, but we certainly do have plenty of variety.

On Sunday afternoon I had a meeting of some of those who are interested and arranged to hold a Bible class every Sunday afternoon at 3 p.m. for ¾ hour in B company mess tent, which is very handy to the platform end of large tent. This leaves the big tent to those who wish to read or write or play the phonograph or piano.    

Of the games outside, football, baseball, cricket, lacrosse, etc., I could say much if time and space permitted. It is astonishing how vigorously the soldiers and officers throw themselves into these with all their other physical demands. Last Sunday afternoon two young fellows came and borrowed two pair of my boxing gloves. There were no casualties, I guess. I found the gloves returned when I entered my tent at 10.30 that night. Then there is the brigade service at 9 a.m., visits to the hospital, a mile or more away on the wooded hill near the big water tower, and many other duties (including taking part in parades and marches), as on last Monday and Tuesday in the big review and march past before General Logie and Sir Sam Hughes, a magnificent spectacle in spite of the dust and heat and a fine training in many battalions acting together. I have little time to myself, but enjoy all my work, sleep well (from 10.45 p.m. till 7.30 a.m.) and have the same kind of appetite that nearly everyone else has up here. Occasionally I ride on a motor into Barrie or some remote part of the camp when a chance offers – violent exercise part of the time – or sit and read my Tennyson or some other of the few books I was able to bring, or enjoy many an informal talk with an officer or man here and there.

There is in our battalion a fine spirit of comradeship and regimental pride. There are of course a few exceptions to this, but not many. The hardships incidental to a new encampment on a primeval wilderness under unfamiliar conditions have been borne well and cheerfully by nearly everyone. In language and general demeanor I think the 125th is as high as any in the whole camp. Naturally, as in every battalion, there are some men of course who are, to say the least, not carful either in their habits or language, but we have not many. I have been agreeably surprised at how few of them there are, and since there is no “booze” here, and nearly all the men really wish to do what is decent and right I believe that in a short time no one – except impossibly proper people – will have any cause to complain. No chaplain could desire more cordial friendship and cooperation than it is my good fortune to have from everyone in the battalion from Lt.-Col. Cutcliffe down. This makes my work a pleasure and will cause it to yield results in the life and conduct of the members of the battalion, otherwise quite impossible. My task is quite too great for me even under the best conditions, however, and either in holding too rigidly or in making too liberal compromise I am bound to err at times. So may we all, and I ask your charity and prayers for us all that though not “plaster saints,” we may steadfastly face our big job as the king’s soldiers and measure up to the heavy demands which are made upon us.

Yours sincerely,
Alfred E. Lavell, Captain,
Chaplain 125th Batt., C.E.F.

P.S. – The Expositors come daily are eagerly looked for. I distribute them as well as I can and your kindness in sending them is much appreciated. – A.E.L

BX March 26, 1917

Monotony of Camp Life Tells On All Alike – Capt. (Rev.) A.E. Lavell, Writes From Witley to his Late Congregation – To Go “Somewhere” Soon

An interesting letter from Capt. A.E. Lavell formerly pastor of Brant Avenue Methodist Church, now chaplain of the 125th Canadians, but expecting every moment to be ordered for duty “Somewhere”, was read by Rev. A.A. Bowers at the morning service at the church yesterday. The letter follows:

February 27, 1917
Witley Camp, Surrey
125th Canadians

Dear Friends of Brant Avenue Church

I had expected to be long before this at a far distant battle front. The authorities some months ago informed me that I had been chosen for a certain duty if I would consent to go and of course I told them that I would make no choice at all, but go where they thought best. They told me, therefore to hold myself in readiness to leave any moment. I did so and have ever since had my things all packed up (not a very large bundle) so that I could get off on an hour’s notice. The other day they renewed the warning. Had I not been detailed for this duty, I would a month ago have been in France. This would have pleased me much, but in war nothing counts, nor should it count, except the doing of the task committed to you and doing it cheerfully and willingly to the best of your ability.

Meanwhile I am still here with the 125th and “carrying on,” though of course unable to make any plans for a day ahead. This uncertainty makes it impossible for me to do good work but it is one of the many factors in the discipline of a soldier. Those of us who come through this war will never be quite the same again. Physically most of us will be stronger, “as hard as nails.”  Morally and spiritually most of us will be stronger too, and wiser, with a new and wider vision and perspective born of strange and varied experiences. Some, after striving hard, cannot stand the heavy physical strain of the training. The wonder to me is that so many thrive under it. But all are keen to be fit for the stern duties of the battle front and their spirit carries them through many hard experiences with [?]. The monotony of life in camp is wearing on all. One part of the camp is just like another. The same kind of long low brown huts with the same stretches of parade ground tramped hard by thousands of feet, the same trenches,the same stuffed bags hanging up for bayonet work, the same bugle calls, orders, commands, instructions, the same everlasting drill, the same kind of food, and the same khaki uniform everywhere. No wonder that whenever possible, in the lengthening evenings on Saturday and Sunday afternoon the men and officers are glad to scatter out into the lovely lanes, hedge-lined or stroll along the footpaths, across meadows or through the pine woods. You will meet them in twos and threes wherever you go, in the quaint old hamlets and towns nearby, along the roads, by the little lakes and streams, everywhere. I have had the pleasure of preaching at a good many evening services in neighboring churches and each time the congregation was chiefly composed of soldiers who came to church not necessarily always wholly for worship, but because of the change it gave from camp life, and as a reminder of home. My work as chaplain frees me somewhat from the monotony to which I have referred, but there is enough of it even for me, and I sympathize deeply with those who have far more of it. Fortunately the soldiers are mostly full of life, energy, good spirits and fun and seem to be quite cheerful under all conditions. Then, too, their minds are on what is to come within the next few months, and they plunge heavily into their training as those who know that not only will their lives depend upon it, but victory as well and the vindication of right. There is little complaining, much good comradeship and astonishingly faithful attention to business. Most of our soldiers behave well too, in spite of unusual temptations, especially of liquor – a curse while here I have learned to hate more than ever.

My own work is as you know very varied during the week, but my interest is chiefly in the hospitals. I am not allowed in isolation hospitals (mumps and measles are quite a pest here), but so far as I can and as often as I can I visit the boys of our battalion in the other hospitals , even going once a month to Epsom, Wokingham, Orpington and other hospitals outside the Aldershot command. The “Chaplain’s Fund” given to me by Brantford friends, as long as it lasted, helped me much in this work. On Sunday I have always at least, one parade service and often other meetings as well. Last Sunday my morning program was 8 a.m., the parade service of the Fifth Divisional Train (the busiest bunch of men in the service) on their parade ground, 9 a.m. the 125th service in the men’s mess room, 9.45 a.m. the 135th (Highlanders) in the Theatre. I then visited Bramshott Hospital and called on some of my fellows there. At three in the afternoon I lectured to a big gathering at Bramshott on “The Rise of Prussia.” (This is the seventh time for this address in that camp). I then walked (over seven miles) back to Witley camp. Most of the way a drizzling rain fell, but I enjoyed the walk nevertheless. It was all over a section of the Portsmouth-London road, crowded with memories. As I walked along a strange, long stretched out caravan passed me. It consisted of 80 motor ambulances proceeding to Portsmouth en route for France. Each had its big red cross on the side. One had also “From the State School Children of Western Australia.” And another “From the Straits-Settlements.”

Before closing I must tell you how much we all appreciate and long for letters from home. There is nothing that so puts heart into a soldier over here as a good letter. A box is the best thing, anything from home. The box of candy from Brant Avenue, which I acknowledged long ago, I hope you got it – at Christmas time was enjoyed by all those who shared its contents.

Spring is now here in England. Before another comes we all hope that the war will be over. We won’t all come back, but some will. Those who do not will have considered the sacrifice none too great and God grant that the new era in Canada, the Empire and the whole world will be so much better than the past that all who are left both of soldiers and folks at home will be able to say that even the price of this war was worth the paying.

With regards to you all,
Alfred E. Lavell
Capt. And Chaplain, C.E.F.

P.S. – I am glad indeed to know of the prosperity of the church under the combined efforts of Mr. Bowers and of all the rest of you. May it continue and increase.
A.E.L.

BX August 30, 1917

Spirit of Men is Magnificent – Capt. Lavell Finds Time to Give Variations to the Soldiers

In a card addressed to The Expositor, dated Salonika, July 12th, Capt. A.E. Lavell says:

“My work here continues in all its original interest with some new points added. All the time I can spare from actual hospital work, I am giving to the Y.M.C.A., in the way of addresses, lectures, etc. Within a radius of 15 miles from No. 5 Hospital, this means little more than the evening. Further up the various lines takes longer, but is mightily worthwhile. The Tommies get so fed up that it is a great joy to aid in giving them some variation.

“No one can imagine what the armies have endured in this region. And yet their spirit is magnificent. Now, too, they can see results.

“Though here several months now, I have only once had time to take a walk up around the ancient ramparts of Salonika. Another officer and I climbed up on the wall where time had made a breach, and walked the wall for fully half a mile. The view was great.”

Capt. Lavell also adds that Nurse Hartley and himself are well.

BX December 10, 1917

Impressions of Macedonia by Capt. Alfred Edward Lavell – Grim Endurance and high Spirits of British Soldier Stand Out – Road Building

The following letter was received by the Rev. J.D. Fitzpatrick, pastor of Brant Avenue Methodist Church, from Capt. (Rev.) Alfred Edward Lavell, formerly of that church, but now with the C.E.F. overseas.  It was written from the Western General Hospital, Liverpool, to which Capt. Lavell has been confined with a very serious attack of malaria, and was addressed, to the congregation of Brant Avenue Methodist Church.

I fear from what I have heard, or rather not heard, that at least one, if not two, of my letters written to you from Macedonia have failed to reach you, and are probably at the bottom of the Mediterranean. One of the hardships of the Balkans was the uncertainty of the mails. Some were lucky and the majority of their letters got through. Most of us had to be content if one third of the letters sent reached their destinations, or if we received one third of what was sent us. I am glad to know that a letter from me to friends in Brantford generally got through all right, and was published in one of the Brantford papers a month or so ago. This contained some things written in my letters to you and possibly was read by many of you. Only I am sorry if they were lost.

As most of you know, I have been spending the last six weeks in this hospital in a very hard fight with a very malignant form of malaria. Fortunately I am now convalescent and expect soon to leave here. But for a few days it looked as if you and I should not see one another again. I knew nothing about it when the matter was at its worst, being unconscious and delirious. I am thankful indeed that the outcome is as it is. Of course, when I entirely am recovered, that will not unfortunately be the end of the malaria. But is the price of campaigning in the Balkans. Some especially those living in huts, which I did not, had a fair chance of escape. But everyone had to run the risk of malaria and dysentery, and of these many died. When the history of the Saloniki expedition is written, I think it will be found that no front was filled with more kind of dangers than this. Nor was anywhere more devoted courage shown by the soldiers. I have this to be thankful for – that my malaria attack held itself off until I reached England. It was bad enough here, but the boys who had it in Macedonia with the thermometer 104 degrees in the shade, had it far worse.

The British Tommy

Looking back on my experience in the East, I think the following impressions stand out as being lasting. First comes the marvelous fighting qualities of the British soldiers. In action or in patient endurance, when all is well or when everything – in weather, fighting conditions, disease – is as bad as it can be, he is wonderful and quite unbeatable. I have heard him singing when all you could have expected was grim endurance. Second, the noble and self-sacrificing work being performed in aid of the Serbian refugees. I shall never forget a visit to an Anglo-Serbian hospital in the spacious but rough cellars of a massive stone building in Monaster, Serbia. Dimly lighted – the little windows were blocked with round stones, because, because of the falling shells – with mud floor, and rough walls, the place was made light with the cheerful and kindly activities of the English nurses. Babies and old women, torn by the Boche’s shells, and women and children with various forms of illness, including typhus, lay there and were tended by these young sisters and the magnificent English surgeon who was in charge. This was but one of the many of the heroic unknown and unnoticed deeds of this war.

Road Building

Third, the thoroughness and extent of the work of the British Engineers in the making of roads. In St. Paul’s day there was possibly one fair road built by the Romans to connect their possessions. But when the British landed in this campaign there was hardly even a respectable trail, except right in Salonika. No military operations can be carried on successfully without means of transport and for transport in these days of immense motor lorries and heavy artillery, where speed is essential, and the volume of traffic necessarily great, no roads can be too good. And the hundreds of miles of roads built by the engineers in Macedonia across swamps, on high mountain sides, across streams and ravines will compare with any roads I have ever travelled on – smooth, solid, well-drained and permanent. The grades are a little steep here and there for ordinary traffic, and sharp curves make you hold your breath but the A.S.C. drivers take all this as if on a level street.

Military Equipment

Fourth, the completeness and immensity of the general military equipment. Of course, that is characteristic of every front these days.
Of my own work you will have to form your own ideas. To the best of my ability – which I realize is not much – I tried to serve the troops in every way I could. In comparison with the amount there was to do. I did very little. But I did enough to make me glad I was there to serve, and any price I had to pay was light when compared with whatever I was able to attempt and accomplish.

What lies before me I do not know. I have volunteered for France, but this illness will keep me in England at least for the winter. I shall now be attached to the University of Toronto Hospital, and I know shall enjoy the work with them at Basingstoke, in Hampshire. It is a pleasant co-incidence that I shall find myself in the same unit with our mutual friend, Matron Anne Hartley, who has given such a good account of herself in all her work.

I have heard with deep sorrow of the death of members of the congregation, and in every case, of which I knew, have written to express my sympathy. It will be too much to hope that all these letters reached Brantford, but I hope most of them did.

While I lay here I was called on by Major Sweet, and later by Capt. Duff. Slemin and Lieut. Harold Preston. Those visits did me much good. They all looked well.

I am glad to hear of your prosperity. May you have more.”