Читать книгу From the Klondike to Berlin - Michael Gates - Страница 9

1914–1916

War is Declared

Winter comes early in Canada’s Far North. The weather had been dull grey and cool with a spot of rain in early August. It was the first warning that the summer of 1914 would soon be over in Dawson City. A large contingent of Shriners of the Gizeh Temple from Victoria, BC, was visiting the Yukon capital, and the ladies who had accompanied their husbands on this long journey were received on the afternoon of August 4, 1914, at the home of Mrs. Gus Johnson. They were, as of yet, unaware of events unfolding in Europe. This would be the last social event in the Klondike for five years that was innocent of the shadow of war.² The Auditorium Theatre (better known today as the Palace Grand) had just opened for the season to present silent movies to Dawsonites. Advertised for the silver screen in early August were The Honeymooners, Prisoner of War, Red Saunders’ Sacrifice, The Signal of Distress and The Contortionist. Miss Zella Goodman was the pianist.

There were two other theatres also offering the newest in silent film productions. The Dawson Amateur Athletic Association (DAAA), at the corner of Queen Street and Fifth Avenue, was presenting a drama (Two Daughters of Eve), two comedies (Two Gay Dogs and Chumps) and a weekly Pathé newsreel. The admission was twenty-five cents, and for the reserved seats, fifty. Professor Carpenter provided musical accompaniment on the piano. Meanwhile, the Orpheum Theatre on Front Street was presenting three dramas and two comedies.

When the visiting Shriners’ wives met for a garden party at the home of Mrs. Gus Johnson on August 4, 1914, they had little idea that Canada would be at war by the end of the day. yukon archives roy minter fonds 92/15 # 314

That evening, the Shriners were present at a special program of entertainment at the DAAA, which included, in addition to films, the singing of Miss Hazel Hartshorn, and a monologue and dancing by Danny Green. Just as the performance was ending at the DAAA, news reached the patrons that the British fleet had sunk six German ships. Mr. Walter Creamer, the manager of the theatre, projected a slide of the king on the screen, and Professor Carpenter struck the introductory chords to “Rule, Britannia!” The audience rose as one and sang “until the house shook.”³ That was followed by “God Save the King.” When a picture of Queen Mary was projected on the screen, the crowd sang “The Maple Leaf Forever.”

The same happened at the other theatres. The Auditorium Theatre was filled to capacity. During an interval, a telegram was passed to George Black, the commissioner of the Yukon Territory. Upon reading it, he went to the stage and, after a perceptible pause, eloquent with suppressed emotion, read the cable. The message was from the federal undersecretary of state, saying that England was at war with Germany.

In silence, men and women looked at each other aghast, trying to absorb the significance of the announcement. According to Martha Black, wife of the commissioner:

In the centre of the house about twenty scarlet-coated members of the Royal North West Mounted Police occupied seats. Two of the men, brothers, were former members of the Coldstream Guards, well over six feet in height, and both with fine voices. They looked at each other, whispered to other members of the force with them, rose to their feet and commenced singing “God Save the King.” The effect was electrical; with one move the audience was on its feet and never in the world… was the national anthem sung with greater fervour or more depth of feeling than that night in this tiny mining village on the edge of the Arctic.⁴

As they filed out of the theatres onto the twilit streets of Dawson, men and women, young and old were abuzz with earnest discussion. Although it was not yet officially stated, the community understood what this meant: that Canada, too, was at war alongside Britain. The Yukon was now at war.

The following evening, at the end of their stay in Dawson City, the visiting Shriners were feted at a grand ball in the Arctic Brotherhood (AB) Hall (today known as Diamond Tooth Gertie’s). The hall was colourfully decorated with Union Jacks and flags of other nationalities, Shriner emblems, pennants and bunting. Evergreens and a myriad of potted flowers and swinging baskets adorned the room. The festivities were interrupted when the Yukon’s member of parliament, Dr. Alfred Thompson, read out news bulletins just received by the Dawson Daily News. Mounting the rostrum, Thompson read out the first announcement, which called for parliament to convene on August 18. The announcement was greeted by cheers and the singing of the national anthem. The second message announced a major naval victory, after which the orchestra played “Rule, Britannia!” According to the account published in the Dawson Daily News of August 7, “from every throat welled the chorus till the house shook. Then followed ‘God Save the King,’ and three cheers and a tige[r]. Commissioner Black was present on the platform and joined heartily in the demonstration.”⁵

“We all had read skimpy reports of European troubles in the Dawson Daily News,” wrote Laura Berton, wife of the mining recorder, “but Europe, really, seemed a planet or so away.”⁶A month earlier, the Dawson Daily News of June 30 carried a brief article noting the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne. It consisted of only sixty-seven words.

This was an inauspicious way to herald the coming of a global Armageddon. The headlines in the Dawson Daily News devoted more space to the events surrounding the Mexican Revolution, and upheaval in Ireland, but by the end of July, reports from Europe became increasingly ominous.

On July 25, the News stated that Austria-Hungary and Serbia were engaged in open hostilities. Russia was sympathetic with the Serbian cause. If it became involved, Germany would stand behind the Austro-Hungarian position. Britain, though not in a state of war with Germany over the “Pan-Servian question,” placed its fleet on a war basis on July 27.

By July 30, the headlines in the Dawson Daily News declared that Britain might not be able to remain apart from the conflict. Across the country, Canadians were abuzz with discussions about the latest developments. Crowds gathered outside of newspaper offices in small towns and large cities in the hope of seeing new reports as soon as they were posted. At that time, people thought that the conflict would be over by Christmas.

It is unclear how these events affected people in Dawson City. There was no commentary in the newspaper regarding public stirrings of concern, yet the News was well supplied with images of all the key players in the conflict by the end of July. “WAR EXTRA” declared the Dawson Daily News in a headline that filled one third of the front page of the August 1 edition: “Germany Declares War on the Russians.”⁷

The Volunteers

official notice from the Canadian government of Britain’s declaration of war against Germany reached Commissioner George Black on August 6. Subsequent declarations of war against the Austro-Hungarian Empire (August 13) and Bulgaria (October 15) would follow within weeks. Black immediately wired the secretary of state that a force of volunteers would be raised in the Yukon. The day after the official notification of war arrived, Black placed advertisements in the newspaper calling for volunteers.⁸ He and Dr. Alfred Thompson, Yukon’s member of parliament, were the first to sign their names in a ledger laid out in the lobby of the Territorial Administration Building, which stood in a prominent location on Fifth Avenue, on land set aside for government use. Sixty-seven others followed their example; by war’s end, most of them had signed up and shipped to Europe. Of the men who signed the ledger, only two identified themselves as Canadian—the rest, nearly half of whom were born in Canada, listed their nationality as British. Dr. Thompson said: “Our Empire and our Dominion now face the greatest crisis in their history, and I feel it is my duty to be in Ottawa when such momentous matters are to be discussed.”⁹ A large notice placed by the commissioner appeared in the Dawson Daily News on August 9 calling for volunteers. Veterans and servicemen, British subjects who were less than thirty-five years of age and capable of passing a rigid medical examination, were preferred.

Men immediately stepped forward to sign up. Most believed that the conflict would not last very long. Many of the first to volunteer in support of the empire were born in Britain. Howard Grestock, a Londoner and veteran of the Boer War, was the first. Within days of the declaration, he was aboard the steamer Dawson, heading Outside—out of the Yukon—to enlist. He signed his papers on September 22 at Valcartier, Quebec, and shipped out with his old regiment, the Lord Strathcona’s Horse. His letters from France would be published in the News for years to come. With him was Jack Maitland. During the Boer War, Maitland was with the Royal Scots Greys and was wounded twice. A large crowd of friends and well-wishers massed at the waterfront to see the two men off. Aboard the riverboat with them were the Shriners from the Gizeh Temple, who had concluded their visit to Dawson City.

Thomas Corville, a miner working at Coal Creek, also decided to enlist. Unfortunately, he did not have the fare to book passage on the riverboat for Whitehorse, and he could not get anybody to loan him the money for travel, so he put some hardtack into a pack, threw it to his shoulders and walked more than 600 kilometres overland to Whitehorse.¹⁰ Ironically, he was rejected because of flat feet! Jack Morgan from Mayo was also quick to respond, as was Kenneth Currie from the Fortymile district, a long-time miner who was “prominent on many a platform in stirring meetings of the camp.”¹¹ Neither knew what was to come.

All twenty-five members of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police in the Dawson City detachment were quick to volunteer. Nine of the fifteen officers in the Whitehorse detachment offered their services, including Inspector Arthur Acland, who was the first to step forward. Acland, who served as a constable on the Dalton Trail during the Klondike gold rush, quickly rose through the ranks, and would eventually retire from the Mounted Police as assistant commissioner in 1933.¹² Those who were British Army reservists were called upon to join their regiments in England, including Constables Harvey, Dooley, Hull, King and Greenaway. Greenaway reached London by November 1 and joined the Coldstream Guards. He was on the battlefront by the middle of the month.¹³

Sam Steele of the North-West Mounted Police, who had guided the stampeders safely through the great gold rush sixteen years earlier, joined and took a senior command position. Other former Mounties were commissioned officers in the British or Canadian Expeditionary Forces. Malcolm “Scotty” Morrison had served in the Yukon for thirteen years. Corporal Ward, who led the annual patrol from Dawson to Fort McPherson, and had left for the coast in the spring, joined the 68th Battalion of field artillery the day he arrived. Weston Burrell, formerly with the Whitehorse detachment, joined the 83rd Battalion. Constable George Pearkes, who was born in Watford, England, on February 26, 1883, came to Canada in 1906 and joined the Royal Northwest Mounted Police. In 1915, he enlisted in the Canadian Expeditionary Force, later rising to command the 5th Canadian Mounted Rifles.

By August of 1918, 101 former and current Mounties from the Yukon had enlisted for service overseas. Most tragic of all may have been a former constable named Spreadbury, who, after leaving the Mounted Police, worked for the White Pass and Yukon Route. Spreadbury had a good character reference with the force but was despondent after being rejected because of his age. In a fit of despair, he killed himself with a gunshot to the chest.¹⁴

Volunteering for military service quickly reached a fever pitch and continued during the protracted conflict overseas. For some, it was a family affair. Dr. P.F. Scharschmidt of Whitehorse and his two sons, Guy, a surveyor, and Howard, signed up.¹⁵ Three sons of Fred Maclennan, the collector of customs in Dawson, enlisted. Eldest son James found himself on a patrol boat in the Atlantic. Fred Jr. eventually left with a large contingent accompanying George Black. Son Jack was accepted by the British Columbia School of Aviation and trained in the flying corps.¹⁶ Frank Slavin, an Aussie pugilist and former empire heavyweight champion, signed up, followed by nineteen-year-old Frank Jr. a year later. The aging boxer would survive the war, but his son would not.

Elliott and Alfred Totty, and Kenneth and Hugh McDonald, all sons of Anglican missionaries and First Nation mothers, enlisted and served with distinction. Hugh was married and studying law in Winnipeg when he enlisted January 4, 1915. Kenneth joined the Royal Navy. First Nation men from the Yukon, however, found it difficult, or impossible to volunteer for service in the early stages of the war. According to military historian Timothy Winegard, “John Campbell, an Eskimo from the Yukon Territory, made a 3,000-mile journey by trail, canoe and river-steamer to enlist at Vancouver. He had previously tried to enlist in the Yukon with three Indians. They were all accepted by the recruiting depot and passed the medical exam; however, after complaints from men in the Yukon contingent, they were all summarily released from the unit. No Indian or Eskimo was accepted for service in the Yukon itself prior to conscription.”¹⁷

Several women enlisted for service. One was Mrs. L.G. Bennet, whose husband, a Dawson City lawyer, had enlisted as an officer on November 28, 1916. A few months later, in the spring of 1917, she was selling their Seventh Avenue Dawson home, hoping to close the deal by the breakup of the Yukon River.¹⁸ She then planned to go overseas as a nurse. Marie Thompson, daughter of Dr. and Mrs. W.E. Thompson of Dawson, served as a nurse in France and Flanders. Zowitza (Zo) Nicholas, second daughter of Mrs. Jennie Nicholas of Dawson, and later Mayo Landing, joined the U.S. Army Nurse Corps and eventually left with a Seattle contingent.¹⁹

In addition to the Scharschmidt family, Whitehorse residents Jack Taylor, W.L. Breese, James Salvatore, Harold Newton and Frank G. Wilson, a nineteen-year-old student at the University of British Columbia, all joined up. By war’s end, the Whitehorse volunteers would number ninety-six. Volunteers also came from Atlin, Mayo, Carmacks, Carcross and Fort Selkirk.

The news of the war filtered through the territory. Nevill Armstrong, a tall hardy Englishman, was returning with a hunting party after a trek to the south fork of the Macmillan River in search of large game. In the mid-afternoon of September 22, 1914, they encountered an old friend of Armstrong’s, a French Canadian by the name of Tom Jeffreys, who was hauling out the hindquarters of a moose onto a gravel bar in the river. When he saw them, Jeffreys became agitated; he had important news to convey to the party. According to Armstrong, Jeffreys told him: “The War—half the world fighting!… there ‘was one hell of a war going on on land.’ Thousands of Germans killed, in some places piled thirty feet high, the bodies being used as breastwork! Although it was impossible to obtain any coherent explanation of what was actually happening in Europe, it was only too painfully evident that the whole of Europe was up in arms, and it was our duty to get back as soon as possible and offer our services.”²⁰

Within weeks, Armstrong was an officer in the 50th Regiment (Gordon Highlanders of Canada). Armstrong survived the war and left the military with the rank of captain and an Order of the British Empire (OBE) five years later.

Two men, William Annett and Walter Keddy, were on Herschel Island, the most northerly point in the Yukon, when they answered the call. They mushed by dog team hundreds of kilometres over ice and snow to Fort Yukon, near the mouth of the Porcupine River, then came up the Yukon to Dawson City, on the first boat of the season, to enlist. William Forbes came all the way from the Liard River in Dease Lake country to sign up in Whitehorse.²¹ Several members of the territorial assembly left their seats to serve king and country, as did sixty-seven members of the Fraternal Order of Eagles.²²

They came from all walks of life: lawyers, bankers, dockworkers and ships’ crews. There were miners in large numbers. George Chapman was the son of the man who ran the steam power generating plant in Dawson. Alfred Cronin worked as a clerk for the Northern Commercial store in Whitehorse. Jack Taylor was the son of the magistrate in Whitehorse. Rowland Bourke, son of Dr. Isadore Bourke, formerly of Dawson City, was rejected from all three branches of the Canadian military, so he booked passage overseas and enlisted in the Royal Naval Reserve. Other Yukoners, like Selwood Tanner, who joined the 11th Hussars when he got to England, did the same.²³

The Yukon volunteers were of various nationalities. The United States was not at war with Germany until 1917, but Americans in the Yukon signed up to fight with the Canadian forces, and a number of impatient citizens from Alaska came to Dawson to enlist with the Canadian Expeditionary Force. Seventeen men of American birth joined the George Black contingent, which went overseas in early 1917. Russians, Italians and those from the Balkan states who were not called up from the reserves by their own countries joined the Canadian forces. Aside from volunteers from the countries of the British Empire, those from the Balkans formed the next-largest group of Yukon volunteers. A number of French citizens in the Yukon departed for France at the beginning of the conflict, including August Brun, who was working for C.P. Dolan at Granville; Charles Troceasz, Julius Barbe and Gustav Espenon.

They joined up singly, or in groups. Nearly two dozen Whitehorse men volunteered in Victoria together, their regimental numbers falling in sequential order. Most of them ended up serving in the 67th Canadian (Pioneer) Battalion. A year later, fourteen Dawson men joined the 231st Battalion (Seaforth Highlanders of Canada), along with a number of men from Atlin.²⁴

One of the most remarkable volunteers of all was “Grizzly Bear” Jim Christie. James Murdoch Christie was born in Perthshire, Scotland, on October 22, 1867. When he joined the stampede to the Klondike in 1898, he had been farming in Carman, Manitoba. Christie remained in the Yukon after the gold rush, later becoming a guide and professional hunter, but his extraordinary story began in late October 1909, when he and partner George Crisfield were trapping on the Rogue River, a remote tributary of the Stewart River. Christie had been tracking a large grizzly bear that had disturbed one of their caches. A marauding grizzly bear at that time of year is never good news. The bear surprised him as he climbed up a snow-covered riverbank, and at a range of 30 metres, he got off one shot from his Ross rifle, which hit the bear in the chest, and a second round to the head, just before the bear was upon him. Christie tried to escape the charging grizzly, but to no avail.

Jim “Grizzly Bear” Christie was one of the heroic figures of the Yukon. He survived a vicious bear attack in 1909 to become a decorated hero during World War I. PPCLI Museum and Archives

The grizzly took Christie’s head into his powerful jaws and began to crush his skull. Christie’s jaw and cheekbone were crushed, his skull was fractured and his scalp was ripped away from his head, drenching the snow with his blood. One eye was blinded. To protect himself, Christie thrust his right arm into the angry bear’s maw, and it too was crushed. Christie might not have survived had the bear continued its attack, but the bullets finally took effect and the beast rolled over, lifeless.

Christie was in terrible shape. He was bleeding profusely, and his broken jaw hung open. He wrapped his jacket around his head to hold the fractured jawbone in place and staggered half-blinded toward his cabin, which was 11 kilometres away. By force of will, he overcame the impulse to give up and lie down in a snowbank and freeze to death. Leaving a trail of blood behind him, he struggled forward. It took him an hour to stagger and crawl the last kilometre to the cabin. Crisfield was not there, so Christie kept a fire going despite being half-delirious, until his partner returned. Crisfield barely recognized his mutilated partner at first. After a couple of days’ rest, Crisfield strapped Christie into a sled and headed to Lansing, the nearest trading post, on the Stewart River. Wrapped in his blood-soaked clothing, Christie endured in silence the pain from every bump and jolt on the four-day journey.

For two months, J.E Ferrell, the trader, and his wife (a former nurse) tended to Christie, slowly nursing him back to health. Ferrell even trimmed the jagged edges of Christie’s scalp wounds as the flap of skin began to heal. Eventually, Christie was fit enough for the journey to Dawson by dog team. He, Ferrell and Crisfield left Lansing on New Year’s Day. Christie even insisted on doing much of the physical work on the journey to Mayo, and then on to Dawson City, where he arrived in mid-January.

By this time, his jaw had healed improperly, so he could not chew solid food and was reduced to consuming a liquid diet. The staff of St. Mary’s Hospital in Dawson could do nothing for him, so he went to Victoria, where surgeon Dr. C.M. Jones reset his arm and his jaw, and reconstructed his face over the course of several operations. Dr. Jones told Christie: “You have no business to be alive.” Much of the credit for Christie’s recovery goes to the Ferrells, who tended him for so many weeks.²⁵ Within months, he was back in the Yukon.

When war was declared August 4, 1914, Christie knew he wanted to serve, and signed up in Ottawa only three weeks later. The doctor’s physical examination noted the scars on his head from the grizzly attack five years before. If he had not lied about his age, he would never have been accepted into the Canadian Expeditionary Force. He listed his age as thirty-nine years, ten months, but in fact he was seven years older than that.²⁶ He joined Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry (PPCLI) and saw considerable action as a scout and sniper in France.

The federal government made a commitment to provide a force of Canadian soldiers to aid the British, so the need for volunteers was urgent. It quickly established procedures by which civil servants could enlist, with a job guarantee when they returned after the war. Notice was received that a new war tax would be imposed on tobacco products, alcohol, coffee, sugar and confections containing sugar. Commissioner Black received a letter from a miner on Independence Creek pointing out that miners and prospectors who enlisted for overseas duty would be unable to fulfill their annual assessment to keep their claims in good standing, and would thus lose their claims. Although this was beyond the powers of the commissioner to rectify, Dr. Thompson introduced the issue in parliament and was able to confirm, just six weeks later, that he had been successful in getting the government to consent to the proposal that: “In case of mining leases in the West, including Yukon, held by men who are enlisting to go to the front, they shall be exempt from payment of the leases while absent at war.”²⁷

The territorial government also placed restrictions on the actions of German and Austro-Hungarian nationals, who were required to register with the Royal Northwest Mounted Police. The collector of customs was instructed to compile names, occupations, places of employment, ages and religions for these individuals. Note was made of any of those expressing pro-German sentiments, and restrictions were placed on their movement. None expressing pro-German sentiments would be employed in the public service in the territory, and any German attempting to leave the territory would be arrested. Superintendent Moodie of the Mounted Police hastily added that while Germans remained where they were and were neutral, they would be afforded the same protection under the law as any other person in Canada.²⁸

Joe Boyle, the manager of the Canadian Klondyke Mining Company, posted a notice stating that any employees expressing pro-German sentiments, or those who failed to report anyone doing so, would be fired.²⁹ The territorial government later instituted a similar policy. Pro-German magazines and newspapers were banned from the mail. Germans on the American side of the border in the nearby Fortymile district continued to voice their pro-German sentiments, as long as America remained neutral, but doing so often led to a “rap on the nose.”

On the Home Front

while patriotic men were lining up to volunteer, the entire community geared up to support the war effort. The Imperial Order Daughters of the Empire (IODE) would become the pivotal organization for raising funds for the war effort. The purposes of the IODE were, among others, to “foster a bond of union among the women and children of the [British] Empire,” and “to provide an efficient organization by which prompt and united action may be taken… when such action was desired.”³⁰ In other words, the IODE was meant to do good deeds but honour the British Empire, and its history, as well.

Martha Black (seated far right) and ladies of the IODE in the sun room in Government House, making pyjamas for the soldiers serving overseas. Howard Firth

The first chapter of the order was established in the Yukon on March 6, 1913, when Martha Black formed the George M. Dawson chapter at a meeting in Government House in Dawson City. Until the war started, the activities of the order were mostly social, along with hosting a few charity events and handing out prizes for essays written by the public school children. After the war began, the student essays were written on patriotic subjects.

A second chapter, the Fitzgerald chapter, was created less than a year later, on January 17, 1914. It was named in honour of a member of the Mounted Police who perished on a patrol from Fort McPherson to Dawson in 1911.³¹

Three more chapters followed: the Klondike chapter on January 29, 1915; the Martha Munger Black chapter, of Dawson City, on February 1, 1916; and a chapter in Whitehorse, established on October 21, 1914, with Mrs. Phelps, wife of Willard Phelps, lawyer and member of the territorial council, as its first regent. All were active in organizing events and raising funds for patriotic purposes during the war.

As soon as war was declared, the national IODE organization vowed to raise $100,000 for the purchase of a hospital ship. On August 7, Martha Black, the regent of the George M. Dawson chapter, received a telegram requesting the aid of the local IODE in raising the money. She quickly responded that they had already set themselves to the task and announced a special fundraising meeting of both local chapters at Government House on August 9 at three o’clock in the afternoon. Even women who weren’t members attended the meeting to offer their assistance. The Dawson Daily News started the ball rolling by donating $100, and hundreds more soon followed.

By August 10, the hospital ship fund had grown to $1,800; the next day it had reached $3,000. A day later, that amount had doubled. Of that amount, a contribution of $2,500 was made by entrepreneur Joe Boyle. This was just the beginning of Boyle’s patriotic giving. Boyle was an active member of the British Empire Club and reportedly “never turned down any request to raise money for the despatch of parcels to Yukon volunteers serving in his company or any other Canadian units overseas.”³²

The IODE wasn’t the only community group rallying to fund the hospital ship. On August 14, the Daughters of Nippon added another $85 to the quickly growing bank account. Other women’s groups, including the Order of the Eastern Star and the Women’s Patriotic Service League, began raising funds for the ship as well.

On September 1, Commissioner Black received a telegram from the Governor General asking him to become a vice-president of the Canadian Patriotic Fund, and he agreed to do so. The purpose of this campaign was to raise a national fund to provide for the dependents of Canadian soldiers, British reservists and others going to the front. He approached Martha, as regent of the George M. Dawson chapter of the IODE, asking that their organization manage the collection of money for the fund. The chapter agreed and they commenced immediately, stationing members at the government administration building, Scougale’s Mercantile and the post office to collect donations.³³

In support of their effort, the Dawson Daily News pounded the patriotic drum in an editorial dated September 7: “Not a man, woman or child lives in Yukon who cannot give a golden nugget… The gold harvest here contains hundreds of thousands of nuggets. It will be a simple thing for those who have no nuggets at home to toss in their dollars or their quarters, and later for the committee to purchase the equivalent in raw gold direct from the miners, the dredge companies or the banks… Open the pokes—roll up the nuggets.”³⁴

Whitehorse also responded to the call. Within days of the announcement, $2,170 had been raised, with the largest donation, $100, having come from Taylor Drury Pedlar & Company. The number continued to rise slowly through September and October. By early November, they had raised nearly $3,000.³⁵ This prompted the Dawson Daily News in its October 5 editorial to report that the total raised to date in the territory was $10,000. They went further to point out that if the rest of the country were to contribute on the same per capita basis, the sum raised nationally would be $16 million. By Christmas, the total raised in the Yukon had risen to $20,000.

The community gave money to many charitable causes during the war. Early on, there was the fund for the hospital ship, the Canadian Red Cross Society, the British and the Serbian Red Cross societies, Belgian relief, Polish relief, the Duchess of Connaught Hospital Fund and the Queen’s Canadian Military Hospital at Shorncliffe, England. The number of funds multiplied. There was the Yukon Comfort Fund, which was administered by Martha Black when she was stationed in London, England. There was the Field Comfort Fund, and money given to both Dawson hospitals. There was a disablement fund, a Serbian relief fund and the Queen Mary Christmas Box fund.

In November 1914, the George M. Dawson chapter of the IODE decided to open a fund for Christmas presents for the soldiers at the front. The war office in Ottawa wanted to provide each man in active service with a pound of chocolate, a pound of tobacco and a pack of cards. Subscriptions to this fund were to be sent to Mrs. Frank Osborn, treasurer of the chapter. The ladies also planned an informal tea party at Government House (until they went overseas, Commissioner and Mrs. Black were generous in making their spacious mansion available for a variety of patriotic activities). A pair of wolf/Belgian cross puppies were raffled off at fifty cents a ticket, to raise another hundred dollars.³⁶ When not busy with her IODE duties, Mrs. Black helped form another organization for wartime purposes: the Women’s Patriotic Service League, which also raised funds for the war effort. Before Christmas of 1914, they had ordered the material to produce hospital garments to be sent overseas. “Everything is for the war,” said Martha Black. “Any festivity arranged has a war fund for the motive; everyone is enthusiastic, and no sacrifice is too great.”³⁷

Society in the Yukon was heavily invested in patriotic activities and all social organizations took part in the cause. Yukon women were prolific joiners, and during the war, a number of patriotic clubs and organizations were formed to provide support in one way or another. In 1915, the Sunshine Club put on a lawn party, and the money raised from the sale of handkerchiefs, jellies and candies went to the patriotic fund.

The First Nation people of the territory also pitched in. Reverend Totty at the Moosehide settlement reported that his congregation gave their church offerings to the Canadian Patriotic Fund. Those located at the village of Big Salmon sent nine pairs of moccasins and a cash donation to the IODE in Whitehorse.³⁸

Even children became involved, both in school and out, with wartime activities. In November 1914, the Dawson Boy Scouts were picking up bundles of clothing assembled by Dawsonites for the relief of Belgians. On May 24 of the following year, the children of Dawson City raised $596.25 holding an “entertainment” at the Dawson public school.³⁹ As for the girls, said Mrs. Black:

And the girls? I must tell you about our Girl Guides, who are very sorry they can’t be soldiers. Three years ago we organized the Guides with Mrs. Frank Osborn as Scout Mistress, and Miss Hilda Potter and Miss Hazel McIntyre as Lieutenants. Mrs. Osborn is also the Regent of the Martha Munger Black Chapter of the I.O.D.E. and President of the Women’s Auxiliary of the Church of England. Each summer the Girl Guides spend two weeks in camp about twenty miles above Dawson, on Klondike River. Lately sixteen of the Guides passed the Tenderfoot Test, and are now wearing trefoil pins.

They are being drilled too. Major Knight, the Commandant of the Royal North-West Mounted Police in Dawson is drilling the Girl Guides, the Boy Scouts, and two hundred Dawson Men who are ineligible for active service overseas, yet feel they want to be ready in case Canada calls for men for home defence.⁴⁰

If there was an event honouring the new volunteers, the children were there to help with the celebrations. As Christmas approached, the Daughters of the Eastern Star put on a fundraising event to a full house at the DAAA (one hundred people had to be turned away). One of the features of the evening was a series of tableaux involving young schoolboys. For years to come, both the Boy Scouts and the Girl Guides played a significant role in any event that was sponsored in the communities of Dawson City and Whitehorse.⁴¹

Just before Christmas 1914, Mrs. Black stated in an article in the Dawson Daily News, “Dawson, the most northerly capital of the British Empire, realizes that, though far from the motherland, she, too, must do her duty, nor will the Yukon be found lacking for her people are united in their determination that their portion shall be One Flag, One Throne, One Empire, and that the British.”⁴² It was quite a pronouncement for an American who first came to the Yukon during the gold rush!

Mrs. Black concluded: “Yukon is proud of the fact that sixty-five of her stalwart sons have given themselves for the defense of the Empire, fifty of whom are yet in training with the second Canadian contingent at Hastings Park, Vancouver.”⁴³

Fundraising activities continued at a hectic pace in 1915. The women of the Yukon found countless opportunities to open purses and wallets. One of the most powerful tools at their disposal was the publication of donors’ lists in the newspaper, which were aimed at shaming those unwilling to contribute to the war effort. Social pressure was a powerful tool to loosen purse strings. The civil servants of the territory were subject to special scrutiny, as they were in salaried positions of privilege. Later in the year, the Whitehorse chapter of the IODE received one hundred copies of the pamphlet Why Don’t You Wear a Uniform? for local distribution.

The theatres of Dawson became common venues for patriotic events. Included in the nightly film screenings were newsreels with war content carefully edited to produce patriotic stirrings while concealing the tragic horror of the battlefields. The DAAA announced that viewers would be treated to scenes like the Russian bombardment of Turkish coastal towns, and “marvellous realism depicting scenes of the battlefields” were advertised, promising that the weekly Pathé newsreels were “brought directly from the front and are well worth seeing.”

In Whitehorse in February, five reels were shown as part of a program sponsored by the IODE, supplementing an evening that featured singing by both children and adults. Several compositions had been specially prepared for the event (people were regularly penning patriotic songs, whose lyrics were often published in the newspapers).⁴⁴ The films included a two-reel Italian love story, the weekly Pathé newsreel, a reel with four comedies and the film titled High Tide. The program was followed by dancing, and the management charged admission for all the men who tried to slip into the dance after the films were shown.⁴⁵

In April 1915, Martha Black received a package containing battlefield souvenirs from Walter Greenaway, a former Mountie who served in the Dawson detachment, now stationed overseas with the Coldstream Guards. The noses from a couple of German artillery shells and a spiked German helmet, which contained inside it the name of the soldier and the unit he belonged to, were placed on display in the front window of Charles Jeanneret’s jewelry store.⁴⁶ Mrs. Black could be counted on to give a wholehearted contribution to any event she attended. In July, she gave a speech at the annual session of the Anglican Church women’s auxiliary. “There are but few of us in this most northerly bit of British territory possessing large means,” she said, “ but what we can afford we can give cheerfully and regularly.”⁴⁷ One of these ladies, Marie Joussaye Fotheringham, published a book of poetry titled Anglo-Saxon Songs, and the proceeds were donated to various causes, including the local war veterans association.⁴⁸

In the past year, Mrs. Black noted, they had raised more than $20,000 for various causes. And the fundraising would continue apace in Dawson City. A couple of days later, at the Discovery Day event at Minto Park beside the administration building, the IODE sold refreshments for the patriotic cause. Money from a fundraiser at the Auditorium Theatre on Labour Day was contributed to the machine gun fund. The ladies achieved their goal, and the money was sent off; Sam Hughes, the minister of militia and defence sent a letter of thanks to Commissioner Black, acknowledging their contribution.⁴⁹ Another event sponsored by the IODE in late November at the DAAA included Pathé newsreels and other films. Everybody joined in with songs or recitals; Charlie MacPherson sang “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary,” and Mrs. Frank (Laura) Berton sang Kipling’s immortal “Recessional.” This event raised another $250.⁵⁰

America may not yet have entered the war, but in Dawson City, the American Women’s Club threw themselves wholeheartedly into fundraising. The club held a Fourth of July picnic in 1916, and the White Pass Company provided them with the steamer Casca and a barge for the purpose. Lunch was served on the Casca, and ice cream on the barge. Lemonade and cigars were sold to the revellers. They also organized a patriotic fundraising ball at the Arctic Brotherhood Hall. The event was a grand affair attended by the acting commissioner George Williams and his wife, as well as Judge Macaulay. Their Fourth of July picnic alone brought in $1,100, and other events raising thousands more dollars followed over the course of the war.⁵¹

The most high-profile IODE event of 1916, Alexandra Rose Day, was sponsored by the George M. Dawson chapter at Government House on July 20. Charming matrons circulated on the grounds selling roses handmade by children with disabilities in England. No one could say no to them. People played bridge in the drawing rooms and circulated throughout the main floor rooms, smoking and talking. The rooms were filled with a profusion of cut flowers taken from the government greenhouse. Ice cream, cake, sandwiches and coffee were served on the lawn, while people played various games, the most popular being “Swat the Kaiser.” Likenesses of Kaiser Wilhelm II and the crown prince were placed on hinged boards in front of a canvas backstop, and three tennis balls could be thrown at them for twenty-five cents. Winners received a fancy cigar or other gift. Meanwhile, an orchestra played on the verandah, where there was also enough room for dancing the waltzes and one-steps.⁵²

One of the most creative money-raising schemes for the patriotic fund came from the Duchess of Connaught. Mrs. Black got her to knit six pairs of socks on her knitting machine. When she received them, Mrs. Black raffled three pairs for $25 and sold the other three pairs for the same amount. The winner of the raffle returned the socks, and the IODE raffled them a second time, making $100 more.⁵³

By the end of 1915, the total amount paid out to various funds and societies in the Yukon for war purposes was more than $53,000.⁵⁴ By March 1916, that amount had risen to $62,000. An article in the Dawson Daily News estimated that Yukoners had donated often and generously at a rate of $12 per capita, compared with $1 per person in the rest of the country. “It is doubtful,” the article concluded, “if anywhere in the world a larger per capita contribution is given any war fund.”⁵⁵ This was a recurring theme in newspaper articles and speeches until the end of the war.

Fifty Brave Men

The Yukon’s exceptional support for the war was not limited to fundraising. Yukon men volunteered to serve in numbers that dwarfed the rates of enlistment in other parts of Canada. Nearly one thousand men, from a population of four to five thousand, enlisted before the end of the war. Most notable among the first to step forward was a group of men who joined a machine gun unit sponsored by local mining millionaire Joe Boyle.

If anybody was to fit the mould of heroic figure, it was Joe Boyle, whose exploits were filled with the sort of bravery, leadership and adventure that inspire books and movies.

Boyle was born in Woodstock, Ontario, in 1867. Always an independent spirit, he went to sea as a deckhand while in his teens. By the time he left the seafaring life three years later at age twenty, he had been promoted to ship’s quartermaster. Next, he ran a lucrative feed- and grain-shipping business in the United States, but his dreams of expanding into a nationwide chain of grain elevators fell through, so he moved on. He went on an exhibition tour, promoting fights for Australian heavyweight boxing champion Frank Slavin, who was known as the “Sydney Cornstalk.”

In Seattle, in the early summer of 1897, Boyle and Slavin caught wind of the opportunities in the Klondike. They headed north before the full stampede began, and Boyle soon found himself working on claim number 13 on Eldorado Creek, where he became friends with its owner, the notorious “Swiftwater” Bill Gates.⁵⁶ They forged a partnership of sorts and headed out of the Yukon just about the time the Yukon River was starting to freeze up in the fall. Fighting through ice floes and bitter arctic weather, they made their way up the Yukon River to Carmacks Post, where they joined forces with another party that was attempting to make their way out of the Yukon over the Dalton Trail.

Fighting snow, wind and bitter cold, they battled for weeks to reach their destination, Haines Mission, on the Alaskan panhandle, not far from Skagway. It was only through Boyle’s leadership and forceful determination that the party reached the coast safely. In gratitude, everyone chipped in to purchase a watch, which they presented to him once they reached Seattle.

Boyle was a force of nature. Stocky and barrel-chested, he had the chiselled features that would have made him a movie star in Hollywood. Contemptuous of bureaucrats and authority figures, Boyle was a take-charge man, attracted by adventure. He was a born storyteller who liked to be at the centre of things, but above all, he was a man who followed his own direction. He also had a vision of the future, and he could clearly see that mucking about in the frozen gravel was not for him. Instead, he saw massive machines chewing up the Klondike placers and collecting the gold trapped within. So he headed to Ottawa, where he was able to secure a concession for several kilometres of ground in the Klondike Valley upon which to build his dream. He was then able to secure financing from Rothschild interests in Detroit, and through a series of legal manoeuvres, took control of the Canadian Klondyke Mining Company.

Soon he had valuable waterfront property, a profitable sawmill business and a gold dredging company, which eventually built the three largest dredges in the Klondike. By 1912, he was a millionaire and had taken over the title of “King of the Klondike” from Big Alex McDonald, who had died a few years earlier (once the richest miner in the Klondike, he died penniless while chopping wood on his Clear Creek claim in January of 1909).

Boyle became a prominent benefactor in the community. He was one of the founders of the DAAA, the huge sporting complex that included a theatre, a hockey arena and an indoor swimming pool, which would host many a fundraiser during the war. He sponsored a hockey team, the Dawson Nuggets, which challenged the Ottawa Silver Seven for the Stanley Cup in 1905. They lost, but the epic journey to get to Ottawa for the matches has become part of Stanley Cup lore.⁵⁷

When war was declared in August 1914, Boyle was ready for the challenge. Again, he foresaw the future and determined that he would sponsor a machine gun detachment of fifty men. He was not alone in his endeavour. At the same time, wealthy sponsors elsewhere in Canada were doing precisely the same thing, and his detachment would eventually join the ranks of the Bordon and Eaton Batteries in the fields of France.

He sent a telegram to Sam Hughes, the minister of militia and defence, who responded on September 2, accepting Boyle’s offer.⁵⁸ Hughes had, at this time, a single purpose: to prepare Canada for war. Hughes also demanded that the Canadians sent overseas not be broken up and mixed with British units but remain as discrete Canadian units throughout the war. Boyle had a similar interest for his volunteers and also insisted that his unit was to be a specialist force, trained in the use of machine guns.

Within four days of Hughes’s response, Andrew Hart, the Dawson City fire chief, acting as recruiting officer, started enrolling men in Boyle’s Dawson brigade. At first, they were known as “the Boyle detachment.”

Boyle was heaped with praise in an editorial in the Dawson Daily News:

Unbounded credit is due to Joseph Whiteside Boyle for his more than generous and patriotic contribution which makes it possible for Yukon to have a brigade in the great conflict. Mr. Boyle is a true Yukoner, a loyal Canadian and a sterling Britisher. His contribution proves him a man of action and a power for good in his country’s service. If every wealthy Canadian did as much, Canada could place ten times as many men in the field as she has since the war has opened. The boys who are going in the Boyle Yukon contingent have not the wealth to give, but they are giving even more—their lives if need be.⁵⁹

The News also suggested that a rally be held honouring the volunteers before they left Dawson: “The boys of Boyle’s Yukon Brigade are the lions of the hour. Give them a grand sendoff. Give them a bully time. Give them the heart of Yukon. Sound the drums, strike up the pipes—send the boys to war with colours flying—buoyant with the fire of Britain, keen with the zeal of Canada, stirred with the spirit of Klondike, fast in the love of Yukon.”⁶⁰

Boyle received a telegram from Hughes stating that the men should be shipped Outside as soon as possible. He determined that his volunteers could depart upstream for Whitehorse on the steamer Casca, whose last voyage of the season was scheduled for October 7 or 8. Winter comes early to the Yukon, and any later in the month the river would be congested with ice floes. From Whitehorse, they would take the train to Skagway, thence travel by ship to Victoria, the capital of British Columbia. By the end of September, recruiter Hart could announce that thirty-eight Dawson men had passed the physical examination and would be joined by a dozen others in Whitehorse so that the contingent would be fifty strong upon leaving the territory.

Big plans were afoot for a community send-off for “Boyle’s Boys.” Commissioner Black called for a large get-together to offer them a proper celebration of their departure. School superintendent Thomas Bragg said that the schoolchildren were practising patriotic songs to be sung as the Casca sailed away, and the Boy Scouts would all turn out in full uniform. The Dawson brass band would join the event, and bagpiper Johnny MacFarlane sent a call to the gold-mining creeks for other pipers to join him for the farewell.⁶¹

Joe Boyle sponsored the formation of a machine gun detachment from the Yukon, which later became the Yukon Machine Gun Battery. Here, they are assembled, without uniforms, behind the courthouse in Dawson City. Yukon Archives George Black fonds 81/107 #148

A mascot was chosen to accompany the unit. It was a dog named Jack, which was purchased by territorial councillor George Williams from Bill Ferguson, the Glacier Creek mail carrier.⁶² (Sadly, Jack, who had been raised in the wilds of the Fortymile goldfields, would be killed by a train when the Boyle unit was in England.) They also had a song—John Dines, “Dawson’s troubadour,” adapted the well-known song “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary” for Boyle’s Yukon Brigade with the following lyrics:

It’s a long way to dear old Klondike,

It’s a long way to go;

It’s a long way to golden Yukon—

To the homeland of the sourdough.

You may sing of Tipperary,

Strand and Leicester Square

It’s a longer mush to old Klondike,

But my heart’s right there.⁶³

The entire community became involved in this body of men and their imminent departure. Slides of “Joe Boyle’s Yukon Contingent” were to be shown in the Family Theatre in the DAAA building on the evening of October 7. The new patriotic slides would honour the contingent, all of whom would be guests of the management.⁶⁴

Fred Congdon, the former Liberal member of parliament, had dropped off one hundred dollars at the Dawson News to start a “pocket fund” for the men of the Boyle unit, intended to pay for things not covered by their wealthy benefactor. The Dawson Daily News of September 26 noted that this money would add to the comforts of these heroic volunteers, and the community was to be applauded, but went on to add:

But the one great point which will send the men to the front most appreciative of their home will be the satisfaction of knowing that they left with every heart in Klondike accompanying them. They deserve it. And they deserve a genuine ovation as every fraternal society, every civic body, every man, woman and child of the Yukon should rise and cheer the men who go forth to battle for the preservation of all that means the life of Britain, the perpetuity of civilization and the continued prosperity and very existence of this happy realm.⁶⁵

By October 12, the pocket fund had increased to more than $1,500, meaning that each Boyle volunteer would receive $31 from the fund. It didn’t stop there. Fifty women met at Government House to make “housewives” for each of the men of the Boyle detachment. These small domestic kits sewn by the women contained needles, thread, buttons, pins, shoelaces and other things that the men might need once away from home. During the same meeting, the ladies formed the Women’s Patriotic Service League, which would continue to meet periodically for the duration of the war for fundraising, or “as the necessity for concentration arises.”⁶⁶

The day of their embarkation was steadily approaching. The evening of Tuesday, October 6, the community turned out en masse to celebrate the pending departure of the volunteers. It was a gala affair: the gaily decorated Arctic Brotherhood Hall was filled to capacity. Schoolchildren occupied the first four rows of chairs in front of the stage, and many women were scattered in the crowd.

The volunteers were seated on the stage; a giant Union Jack hung above them. Flags for the allied nations were hung from the mezzanine that overlooked them. Commissioner Black spoke of the generous donations given by Yukoners, especially those of Joe Boyle. He then referred to the “unbounded contribution of the men who have offered their lives in Yukon for their country.”⁶⁷ This remark was followed by an outburst of applause.

Black further stated that Britain might have retained peace had Germany not violated its treaty with Belgium, but Britain was unwavering, and when Belgium was invaded, she took up the sword, and volunteers were rallying from every corner of the empire. “Wherever the Yukon boys go in their campaign for the Empire,” he said, “they may rest assured that they carry with them the hearts and hopes of Yukon.”⁶⁸

With reluctance, Joe Boyle then told the crowd it wasn’t his place to make a speech, that he was satisfied to send “such a splendid and representative lot of Yukoners to the front.” He added: “If I thought myself a better fighter than this bunch, I would leave them home and go myself, but I am sure they will be a credit to Yukon, and [that I will be] only too glad to do what I can to aid in the cause.”

Fred Congdon then made a speech lauding the volunteers as heroes “of all time in Yukon,” asserting that “their names ever should be preserved here as the most honored in all the history of the Northland.”⁶⁹

Mrs. Black got up and spoke on behalf of the IODE, thanking Boyle and the volunteers. In particular, she singled out gold miner Harry Lobley, the youngest member of the contingent, who had just turned twenty-two.⁷⁰ She then called forward the thirty-five men who attended and presented each, one at a time, with a souvenir button, and then shook their hands. The buttons were fashioned by Dawson jeweler Charles Jeanneret, and each had the word “Yukon” across the face. Buck Taylor of the contingent called out the names of each and every man as they stepped forward to receive their gift.

Several stirring songs followed, including “O Canada,” sung by Mrs. Frank (Laura) Berton; “La Marseillaise,” sung by Max Landreville; and “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary,” sung by Charlie MacPherson. The schoolchildren followed with “Rule, Britannia!” and other patriotic numbers, directed by Professor Gillespie and accompanied on the cornet by Constable Clifford. After the songs were completed, the crowd gave three cheers and a tiger for the volunteers—twice.⁷¹ Then the ball began, and the dancing continued until one o’clock in the morning.⁷²

The following day, during drill practice, the boys of Boyle’s Yukon machine gun detachment presented Constable Stangroom, their drill instructor, with a handsome gold nugget watch chain. The gift was a token of appreciation of the services rendered in giving them instruction. The constable was more than pleased with the handsome gift and made a neat address appreciative of the remembrance, but more than anything, he wanted to be joining them overseas.⁷³

A few months later, Stangroom and two other constables escorted a “lunatic” from Dawson to Whitehorse, en route to an asylum in New Westminster. Instead of remaining in Whitehorse as ordered, Stangroom boarded the train for Skagway, but the train was stopped at Carcross and he was arrested. Stangroom was an excellent police officer, but he was exceptionally anxious to enlist to fight for “king and country.” He had repeatedly offered to buy his way out of the Mounted Police but was denied. Stangroom was later released from the Mounted Police to enlist and had some remarkable experiences on the Western Front. He would later be decorated for bravery.⁷⁴

Three days later, a throng was assembled on the dock when the Boyle contingent departed for Whitehorse on the steamer Lightning at midnight. According to the News:

At 9 o’clock in the evening… the troop assembled at the Royal North West Mounted Police barracks. The boys were attired in their natty new uniforms, comprising khaki trousers and woolen shirts to match, yellow mackinaws and stiff-brimmed sombreros. A finer looking body of men never before was assembled north of fifty-three… Not being formally enlisted, they carried no arms.

When the last whistle blew the boys in khaki were lined up on the forward deck with Andy Hart, their recruiting officer and chief, in the centre. The band played “God Save the King,” and a more impressive rendition never fell on the ears of Klondike. The spirit of the occasion seemed to move all, and all stood and sang to the band accompaniment.

The boys proposed three cheers for the people of Dawson and yelled mightily. Then they gave three ringing cheers and a tiger for Joe Boyle and many more for Joe… With the exciting exhaust of steam, the kicking up of the foamy wake by the whirring wheel, the streaming of sparks and a column of smoke into the starry sky, the screaming of the steamer’s whistle and the jostling of the dancing waves against the shore, the scene was one of superb climax to the departure of the pride of the Yukon.

Standing at the end of the coal barge, in the shadow of the bulkhead, with bared head during all the excitement as the steamer plowed past the shouting crowd was a silent man, who watched the ship and her brave boys until she was out of hailing distance. He stood transfixed, gazing until only the dancing lights were visible on the water. It was Joseph Whiteside Boyle… Quietly he turned from the place on the barge, and marched up the street with the people, and was soon happily relating in his characteristic style one of his tales of good cheer from the inexhaustible fund which is his.⁷⁵

The lights of Dawson faded behind them as they headed for Whitehorse. The journey that Boyle’s boys had embarked upon was not an easy one. Fog, shortened daylight hours and other obstacles slowed down their progress upstream so that it took them ninety-two hours to reach Fort Selkirk. At every camp they passed on their upstream voyage, they were greeted with cheers, and the recruits repeatedly sang, “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary.” Whether they used the original lyrics or those penned by John Dines is not known. When they reached Fort Selkirk, their singing was loud enough to scare the huskies into the woods. Finally, early in the morning on Friday, October 16, they arrived in Whitehorse, a week after leaving Dawson City. They had lunch on board, with Captain P. Martin, a Whitehorse businessman, and E.J. White, the editor of the Whitehorse Star, as special guests. Jim MacKinnon, known as “Skotay” by his fellow volunteers, made a speech, and they presented Captain Cowley with a gold watch chain and fob in appreciation of the hospitality extended to them during their upriver voyage. As the Lightning vanished downriver later, they stood on the wharf, again singing “Tipperary.”

The Boyle battery in uniform in Vancouver. Dawson City Museum 1984.55.1

Since the Canadian Pacific ship was not to arrive in Skagway for a few days, they remained in Whitehorse for a week; while they were there, they owned the town. A committee of Whitehorse citizens arranged some social activities for the Boyle boys. A dance was arranged for the Monday and a smoker for Tuesday. The five-piece orchestra donated their services for the dance. Across one end of the hall was hung a banner that read “Dawson to Berlin 7460 Miles.” The Boyle men, all dressed in their uniforms, had earlier posed for a photograph with the banner supported on the building behind them. A splendid supper was served after midnight, catered by Henry Kamayama, a local baker.⁷⁶ The dancing continued until two in the morning. The smokers outnumbered the dancers the following night in a program filled with movies, speeches, dancing, recitations, songs, banjo duets and boxing matches, which also lasted until two in the morning. The guests stated that they were well entertained during their stay in Whitehorse.⁷⁷ They then rode the train to Skagway and took passage on the Princess May to Victoria, where, after a three-day delay, they were transferred to Hastings Park camp in Vancouver, where hundreds of recruits were temporarily stationed.

Life took on some semblance of order at Hastings Park. Charles Jennings, a Whitehorse man, was appointed the colour sergeant, and James MacKinnon quartermaster. Harold Strong and Jesse Tolley became sergeants, and Robert Morton, Edward Fitzgerald, Frank McAlpine and William Black (Commissioner Black’s brother, who joined them in Vancouver) became corporals. But if they thought that they would soon see action, they were sadly mistaken.

A New Kind of War

The months rolled by and the Boyle unit remained in Vancouver, and the men became restless with the delays. Finally, on May 19, 1915, an impatient Joe Boyle sent a telegram asking when the Boyle contingent was to be shipped overseas. Minister Hughes responded by issuing orders that they be shipped overseas immediately, without horses. Within a week, the men, and Jack the husky, were on their way to Montreal by train. They boarded the SS Megantic on June 11 and arrived in England a week later.

Six months after arriving in England, the Boyle detachment was still posted to Shorncliffe camp in Kent, still unequipped and yet to see action. The discontent of the Yukon men grew. For patriotic Canadians, there was nothing nobler than to serve and to see action “on the front.” Many homesick enlistees wrote about their eagerness to go up on the line. “Yukoners are very much dissatisfied at being kept here so long,” wrote Felix Boutin to his brother back in Dawson,

In fact, a number of the boys have transferred and gone to the front with other units. There are only thirty three left and most of us would give anything to get across to France, as we are ashamed to remain here. Last week a call came into this depot for twelve men to reinforce the Sifton battery and nearly all the Yukoners jumped at it. Twelve of them were picked out, including Forrest, Peppard, Black and Burgess. They got all ready to go, and at the last minute orders came from headquarters that Yukoners could not be taken on a draft as they were to remain as a unit. There seems to be no reason why we should be kept here so long as lots of men are being sent over that are less trained than we are.⁷⁸

“As a matter of fact,” wrote one of the volunteers, “we are all rather ashamed to be here so long in England, but there seems to be no way of getting machine guns with which to equip us.”⁷⁹

The year passed, and still the men had not seen action. Meanwhile, back home, the IODE and the civil servants of the Yukon each raised $1,000, and two cheques in that amount were sent to Ottawa for the purchase of two machine guns. Over the winter, the Boyle men remained at Shorncliffe and were formed into a battery that was later attached to the 4th Canadian Division.⁸⁰ In late February, they were moved from their comfortable billets into tents, which they found very disagreeable in the damp, cold winter.

The training for machine gun units was rigorous and physically demanding. Many volunteers found themselves transferred to other units if they didn’t meet the standard. Leading commanders in the British forces did not grasp the tactical significance of the machine gun during the early years of the war. The generals did not see the need for them or to revise their tactical thinking. Machine guns were viewed as contrary to all accepted military practice. Tight formations by foot soldiers with bayonets fixed were the order of the day, and as a consequence, tens of thousands of soldiers, many of them Canadians, were sent to deaths that could have been avoided.⁸¹ The machine gun took the nobility out of warfare. It was industrial-scale slaughter.

The hidebound structure of the British chain of command was not inclined toward subtlety and manoeuvre but rather believed that only the greatest display of moral fibre would win the day. By this structured thinking, soldiers who hesitated to advance under machine gun fire were not showing the stern qualities of a good soldier. A bold charge of infantry would cause the enemy lines to break and run, and the waiting cavalry would ride through the gap on their horses and take the line. As one observer noted:

In Britain, class was everything. The command and fabric of the British Army has been described by one critic as having “stiffened into a sort of Byzantine formalism.” The other ranks, who belonged to the lower class, were expected to obey orders without question and without any real knowledge of the military situation, which was considered too deep and complicated for them to grasp. Such was the gap between officers and men that any private soldier who did try to ask a question of his seniors was considered by his own fellows a traitor to his own class.⁸²

The combatants dug into opposing defensive lines zigzagging across northern France, for hundreds of kilometres from the North Sea coast to Switzerland. They were occupied by hundreds of thousands of soldiers—German and Austrian on one side, French, English, Australian, New Zealander and Canadian on the other. They called it the Western Front. The Allies’ combat strategy quickly resulted in a stalemate in which the Germans had dug trenches and established defensive positions using machine guns with overlapping fields of fire, hidden behind rows of barbed wire. Such positions were virtually impregnable and could only be broken at terrible cost. “Three men with a machine gun can stop a battalion of heroes,” noted one observer.⁸³ Then there were snipers hidden in nooks and crannies, their sharpshooting rifles trained upon the opposite line. If anyone dared to lift their head above the top of the trench, they risked getting it blown off. Between these lines lay No Man’s Land. Varying in width from one hundred to several hundred metres, it was a zone in which nothing lived, and any man foolish enough to enter it quickly died. The men on the front lines figured this out almost immediately. The high command, securely positioned kilometres away from the action, and aloof from the enlisted men, denied this reality for far too long.

Between 1914 and 1918, the machine gun became the defining instrument of death for hundreds of thousands of soldiers on both sides of the conflict. By the time the Boyle detachment had made its way into the theatre of war, the Vickers machine gun was the weapon of choice. These guns had withering firepower, capable of firing up to five hundred rounds per minute. They required a team of five men to operate, because of their size and insatiable appetite for gunpowder and lead. They were heavy and awkward to carry from one position to another on the pitted landscape of No Man’s Land. The gun itself weighed 13 kilograms, plus another 4.5 kilograms if the water jacket was full. The tripod weighed nearly 22 kilograms. Each ammunition box, which carried a cloth belt containing 250 rounds, weighed 9.5 kilograms. Given that they could run through two belts of ammunition every minute, it was a full-time job providing a constant supply of bullets. With the high volume of fire that machine guns were capable of, the spent casings would soon bury a gun emplacement; the support team was kept busy filling sandbags with spent cartridges, which were stockpiled and hauled to nearby dumps, where they would be removed by salvage companies for recycling.⁸⁴

One soldier, Private George Coppard, described the procedure for setting up a Vickers machine gun to fire:

Number One dashed five yards with the tripod, released the ratchet held front legs so they swung forward, both pointing outwards, and secured them rigidly by tightening the ratchet handles. Sitting down, he removed two metal pins from the head of the tripod, whereupon Number Two placed the gun in position on the tripod. Number One whipped in the pins and then the gun was ready for loading. Number Three dashed forward with an ammunition box containing a canvas belt, pocketed to hold 250 rounds. Number Two inserted the tag-end of the belt into the feed block on the right side of the gun. Number One grabbed the tag-end and jerked it through, at the same time pulling back on the crank handle twice, which completed the loading operation.⁸⁵

Once this was done, the Number One gunner flipped up the sights and was ready to fire. If properly placed along the battlefront, with well-designed overlap in their fields of fire, these machine guns could lay down an impenetrable and deadly curtain of lead. To attempt to enter into this field of fire would be disastrous for the enemy.

In order for each gun emplacement to operate smoothly, a constant stream of supplies had to be brought forward. Ammunition belts, water, lubricating oil and spare barrels, as well as replacement personnel in case of casualty, had to be kept in reserve. To work successfully, each machine gun team had to be well trained and ready to deal with all sorts of contingencies, from replacing another member of the team to repairing malfunctions quickly and efficiently. The training continued for months as the Boyle men waited for their orders to go to the front.

In June 1916, the Boyle unit was renamed the Yukon Motor Machine Gun Battery, but still they had seen no action.⁸⁶ Captain Harry F. Meurling, from the instructional staff of the Canadian Machine Gun School, was placed in charge, with Lieutenants Nicholson, Harkness and Strong under his command.⁸⁷ Captain Meurling, born in Sweden and later trained as a civil engineer, had seen service with the Swedish Royal Navy and in the Belgian Congo force before enlisting in Sherbrooke, Quebec, the previous year. Meurling would command the Yukon units for the remainder of the war.

Finally, on August 15, 1916, they shipped out for France aboard the SS Nirvana. This is what they had trained for, for so many months. Now fully equipped to go into combat, they were eager to get to the front. They did not know where that would be, and they had only a vague idea of what to expect when they got there. For the men of the Yukon Battery, the war was about to begin.

The Battlefields of France

The Yukon Battery arrived in Le Havre, France, the morning of August 16 and quickly made their way to Number 2 Rest Camp, at Sanvie, just outside Le Havre. From there, they moved steadily forward until they reached the camp of the 1st Canadian Motor Machine Gun Brigade at Abeele, Belgium. Now designated E Battery, they immediately took up position on gun emplacements.

Captain Harry Meurling commanded the Yukon (Boyle) battery, and later the 2nd Motor Machine Gun Brigade, which also included the George Black contingent. Library and Archives Canada 3219317

The Yukon Battery was in the heart of the action. What followed was a constant cycle to the front, where they provided direct fire and barrage support along the Ypres (Belgium) Salient—a tiny piece of northwestern Belgium, including the town of Ypres, still held by the Allies, that protruded into the German line—then went back to the rear lines for rest and recovery. Over the next two months, they alternated between billets and the front line. Behind the lines they rested and trained, and cared for their equipment. Much time was spent at gun instruction, gun practice and filling machine gun belts. On September 16, they covered a raiding party that penetrated enemy lines in a night raid. On September 22, they opened fire on an enemy working party. “Enemy machine guns tried to locate our positions but failed,” reported the entry in the battery war diary for that day.⁸⁸ On October 15, Privates McKinley and Bloor were wounded during routine duty installing splinter-proof shelters.

On October 21, the Yukon Battery, now attached to the 4th Canadian Division, became involved in the assault of Regina Trench (named Staufen Riegel by the Germans), a lengthy enemy trench system that was positioned behind the devastated French village of Courcelette on the Somme battlefield. According to historian Tim Cook: “The Somme battlefield was a wasteland of ruined farmers’ fields; scummy, water-filled shell holes; and acres of unburied corpses… not a single metre of the war zone had escaped being chewed up by artillery fire… The mixture of blackened flesh and broken bones with thousands of tonnes of metal and shattered structures created a nightmare landscape.”⁸⁹

As for the village of Courcelette, like many others, Lieutenant A.B. Morkill, who had been a bank manager in Victoria before coming to the Somme, noted: “The battle-fields are indescribable. What villages there were, are as flat as ploughed fields, and most certainly the country is one of desolation. Not a tree, but occasionally the stump of one to accentuate the barrenness, and at night when it is lit up by the flames and flashes of the guns, it leaves the impression of a very modern hell.”⁹⁰

It was this shell-blasted wasteland that they sought to capture. The attack commenced at six minutes after noon with a heavy barrage. The Yukon Battery was positioned parallel to Sugar Trench and provided heavy barrage support. At first, it was an all-out burst of intense fire from each machine gun that lasted for twenty minutes, followed by a reduced rate of one hundred rounds per minute, and then slackened to fifty rounds per minute. The pace of firing varied but continued throughout the afternoon and overnight.

The Regina Trench was pounded into oblivion by the artillery barrage, which was supported by the planned machine gun barrage. Behind the carefully designed creeping barrage, Canadian infantry were able to advance and take the German positions. A curtain of lead from Canadian machine gun fire effectively prevented a successful counterattack by the Germans. The machine gunners were not so much trying to hit specific targets as they were trying to drench the area with bullets, thus forcing the enemy to take cover while Canadian troops advanced. Those members of each gun crew not actively firing their weapon were kept busy bringing a steady supply of ammunition to the emplacements.

So intense was the rate of fire by the Yukon Battery that one soldier, Frank McAlpine, was sent to hospital, overcome by the noxious gasses emitted by the machine gun during the continuous firing.⁹¹ The Yukoners were lucky, having come in at the very end of the Battle of the Somme, an offensive that started four months earlier and gained little at great expense of lives. A million combined casualties were inflicted upon the Germans and the Allies during this offensive; more than twenty-four thousand of them were Canadian.

Through the end of October and into November, the Yukon Battery followed its daily firing orders. Things became routine until, on November 15, Private Bob Ellis was hit in the head by a piece of shrapnel in the trenches near Courcelette. His fellow Yukoners carried him to a dressing station 3 kilometres distant. He was still breathing when they arrived but later died.⁹²

Then, on November 18, the Yukon Battery was engaged in a major offensive action providing barrage support to the Canadian 10th Brigade over Grandcourt Trench. The barrage commenced at 10:00 a.m., and the machine guns spat lead continuously for the next six hours, and then provided continuing covering fire through the night until dawn of the following day. Captain Meurling, the commanding officer, reported: “It is impossible for me to lay too much stress on the enthusiasm, endurance and general good behaviour of both men and officers during the whole of these trying 36 hours, out of which 24 hours were spent under practically continuous firing.”⁹³ These men, he noted, had already been on the line for five to six days before the offensive began. Heavy enemy shelling of their positions did not make their assignment any easier. Three of their guns were put out of action when two emplacements and a dugout were blown up. Miraculously, there were no casualties.

Captain Meurling praised his men for their ability to work the guns when under intense fire: “As long as any of them are left to teach the new ones our infantry will never lack the support that M/Guns, when properly handled, can give them, both before during and specially after a battle”⁹⁴ By November 19, they had expended 550,000 rounds of ammunition during this engagement.

Compared to the preceding months, which were filled with constant combat duty, the Yukon Motor Machine Gun Battery spent a quiet December, based at Divion, 25 kilometres from Vimy on the front. They did active duty laying down fire at La Folie Farm, perched near the top of Vimy Ridge, and adjacent roads, followed by time spent behind the line recovering and resting. Belt filling, machine gun instruction and drills occupied much of their time. On December 13, Captain Meurling and the Yukon men were decorated with the Military Medals they had earned in the battle at Grandcourt Trench the month before. Several men from the Yukon Battery were singled out for recognition: Privates David Roulston, Harry Walker and Ernest Peppard, as well as Corporal Anthony Blaikie and Sergeant Frank McAlpine. Sergeant McAlpine was not available to receive his medal, as he had returned to England to train for a commission.

Harry Walker was a good example of a Yukon volunteer. Raised in Victoria, British Columbia, he came north during the early days of the gold rush and was engaged in mining on Sulphur Creek. In the spring of 1915, he joined the 2nd Canadian Mounted Rifles, subsequently transferring to the armoured motor battalion. Walker was awarded the Military Medal for his “devotion to duty displayed when he assembled a machine gun under heavy fire” during the November 19 offensive:

In the midst of a heavy bombardment of the British Lines by enemy guns, Private Walker and two of his comrades, showing utter contempt for the existing danger, moved out into the open and assembled their machine gun at a point where the fire could be effectively directed against the German positions. Just as they got the gun properly mounted a German shell buried itself in the ground immediately in front and undid their work by disarranging and burying some of the parts. In the face of all hazards they managed to secure the parts, put them together again and were eventually able to operate the gun against the enemy with telling effect.⁹⁵

Christmas came and went and the Boyle men were able to enjoy a belated Christmas feast on December 28. They had been initiated with a baptism of lead, gas and steel. They had proven themselves in battle; many had received decorations for their courageous actions. By war’s end, nineteen had been decorated, but thirteen had paid the supreme sacrifice, and others were casualties unable to continue in combat. They didn’t know it, but yet to come were some of the most brutal battles of the war: Vimy, Passchendaele, Amiens and the Hundred Days Offensive. Only a handful of the original fifty would remain in uniform by the armistice.

The Black Contingent

“Month by month I could see that George was growing more restless,” wrote Martha Black about her husband, the commissioner of the Yukon. In her diary, she noted:

George has just come in and told me he has to enlist—that he cannot stand it any longer, seeing our men go away, while he sits in his office and we have the comfort of this beautiful home.

Of course, there’s nothing for me to do but to act as though I like it. It will be a wrench—to leave this lovely place. There’s the dreadful anxiety of our future, too. What will this horrible war bring forth? I dare not think of it. Yet why should I hesitate or try to keep him back? Thousands, yes, millions, already have suffered the horrors of this terrible war for over a year.⁹⁶

But his decision was not as impulsive as his wife presented. The decision to raise a company of Yukon volunteers and act upon it took more than a year to bring to realization, and it was almost three years before he and his comrades saw action overseas.

In late September of 1915, Black sent a lettergram to Sam Hughes, the minister of militia and defence, offering to raise a company of volunteers—an offer that Hughes was quick to accept.⁹⁷ George Black came from United Empire Loyalist stock and it would have been difficult for him not to join the cause in support of Britain in the war effort. Black had left his home and his new law practice in Fredericton, New Brunswick, in 1898 and headed west and north for the Klondike with tens of thousands of others. He discovered gold on Livingstone Creek, north of Whitehorse, and after a couple of years of mining in that area, he went to Dawson and once again established a law practice.

George Black acquired a reputation as a good criminal lawyer, one who could take hopeless cases and deliver a verdict favourable to his clients. His opponents acknowledged his ability to pull off a victory in the courts in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. A lifelong Conservative, George had campaigned for George Eulas Foster, one of Ottawa’s most respected politicians, while he was a young man articling for Foster in Fredericton. He worked with others in the Yukon to organize the Conservative Party in the territory and campaigned fiercely to place Dr. Alfred Thompson in the Yukon seat in the House of Commons. Black was elected to the territorial council for three consecutive terms, and when he went to greener pastures in Vancouver, bc, around 1910, he became active in politics there. In 1911, he was campaign manager for H.H. Stevens’s successful bid in Vancouver for election to the House of Commons. Because the Yukon held a deferred election, Black was able to return to the territory and campaign for Dr. Thompson as well. Both candidates were elected to a majority government and Black, now with numerous political credit notes in his pocket, was appointed the commissioner of the territory in February of 1912. Black was only the second man from the territory, not from Outside, appointed to this position.

A dozen years before, George had met and married Martha Munger Purdy, an American woman from a wealthy Chicago family. Martha embraced her new role without hesitation, adopting not only George’s country but his religion and his politics as well. Together, they formed a formidable partnership that lasted more than fifty years. Martha Black was no shrinking violet, and together they tramped the mountains and valleys of the Yukon on hunting and camping trips. Martha was also schooled in the social graces and had once taken tea in the White House. Whatever George became involved in, Martha did too.

In October 1915, George and Martha travelled to the east on family business, but before he left Dawson, George spoke to the British Empire Club, where there was discussion of raising a Yukon corps for regular drills in preparation for enlistment in the expeditionary force, if necessary. Accompanied by Dr. Thompson, the Yukon MP, he met with an enthusiastic Sam Hughes in Ottawa about his intention to not only raise a company of volunteers but to join as well, and obtain his commission as captain. Robert Rogers, minister of the interior, welcomed Black’s offer and would facilitate his desire to serve with his fellow Yukoners. George planned to take his officer’s course either at Victoria or in the military college at Kingston, Ontario. He would decide once he had consulted with Colonel Ogilvie, the officer in command of the British Columbia military division.⁹⁸

While in Ottawa, Commissioner and Mrs. Black were entertained by the Governor General of Canada and his wife, the Duke and Duchess of Connaught. The duchess and her daughter, Princess Patricia, were filled with questions about life in the North, while the duke expressed his regret at not having been able to visit the region. Before heading home, George visited the Montreal headquarters of the Canadian Patriotic Fund, after which he and Martha spent several days in Toronto in a whirlwind of activity, meeting and dining with various dignitaries, including the acting national president of the IODE, Mrs. E.F.B. Johnson.

In the following months, the Blacks spent time in California, visiting Martha’s family and exploring the Panama-Pacific Exposition. While Martha remained with her family, George returned to British Columbia, where he completed his training in Victoria and qualified as captain in the 104th Regiment (New Westminster Fusiliers).⁹⁹

Meanwhile, back in Dawson City, recruitment was moving ahead. The work of enrolling volunteers for a Yukon Company of the Canadian Expeditionary Force started in Dawson at the Territorial Administration Building in January 1916. “The opening of the roll is in accordance with a telegram received by Administrator George Williams from Commissioner Black, who is now in Victoria,” reported the Dawson Daily News.¹⁰⁰ The Arctic Brotherhood made its hall available for drilling. The government agreed to defray the cost of heat and light, and to protect the floor against damage. The company was to consist of 255 men, and volunteers from Whitehorse and the southern Yukon were welcomed. The men who signed the provisional roll had their first muster and drill the evening of February 11 in the south courtroom of the old courthouse. As the News described it: “The room has been cleared of all furniture and railings and the like and affords quite a comfortable room for a limited number of men. Thirty were present.”¹⁰¹

Drill was to be held once a week, though later on, they planned to increase to twice a week. No rifles were being used yet; the initial drills were designed to harden the men for more strenuous drilling. The first volunteers included high school student Lyman Purdy, Commissioner Black’s stepson. Other volunteers included another student, Norton Townsend; long-time barber Joseph Dubois; lawyer J.A.W. O’Neill; and former territorial councillor Andrew Smith, as well as Frank Thompson, a Canadian Bank of Commerce employee and son of local doctor W.E. Thompson. There was a former amateur boxing champion, a French teacher, a waiter, a piano tuner, a boilermaker, a gardener, a couple of “old-timers” and a veteran of the Balkan Wars.¹⁰² Edward A. Dixon, territorial council member for Whitehorse, volunteered as well. Before the end of the summer, William Radford and Norman Watt followed his lead, leaving the council with barely enough sitting members to form a quorum.

Alaska wanted to be represented as well. A large number of Alaskans had left to join various armies of the Allies, and more were expected to go. As many as twenty-three volunteers at one time had left Juneau in the preceding months. Some mushed out over the trail from Fairbanks and other places. George N. Williams, acting as commissioner in George Black’s absence, received a telegram from a man in Iditarod asking if he and others could join the Black contingent. Williams promptly replied by night letter that no doubt there would be opportunity to get on board and suggested that the Iditarod boys come to Dawson by “the first boats in the spring.”¹⁰³ In the end, seventeen men of American birth would ship overseas with the Black contingent the following year.

The enlistment papers arrived from Victoria on April 8, and the formal process of signing up began. The North American Transportation and Trading Company (NAT&T Co.) offered the use of its former store as a temporary barracks, and those signed up would start receiving an allowance from the government of $1.25 per day. So far, fifty-two had done so, and Major Knight of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police was serving as drill instructor.

George Black’s intended arrival in the Yukon was set back by surgery. Returning from Ottawa by rail to Vancouver, he became ill on the train and was taken off in Winnipeg, where he laid over for a week before proceeding. The diagnosis was appendicitis, and upon reaching the West Coast, he was sent to Royal Jubilee Hospital in Victoria, where he had surgery on May 4. Complications developed after the surgery, but despite being in critical condition, George was predicted by his doctor to recover. By May 17, he was recovering nicely and expected to be released within a week.¹⁰⁴

By the end of May, more than ninety men had passed the physical examination for the Yukon Company, and more were joining up daily. It was expected that as many as one hundred would be ready to leave by sailing time in the middle of June. The recruits continued to drill, now outdoors in Minto Park, as the season had warmed up and the snow was gone. Over the summer, more groups of volunteers would leave Dawson aboard future sailings until the magic number of 250 was reached.

Immediately upon release from hospital, George Black headed north, now reunited with Martha, who had returned from her family visit in California. They arrived in Whitehorse, where the couple were entertained by W.D. Greenough, manager of the Pueblo copper mine. The following day, Black, still recuperating from surgery, visited all the government employees but otherwise took it easy, until he and Mrs. Black attended an informal dance at the North Star Athletic Association (NSAA) hall in the evening. On Monday, June 5, he delighted the schoolchildren of Whitehorse by giving them a half holiday. At the dock, in the evening, dressed in full uniform, he was given a send-off by many of the new recruits before he and Martha boarded the steamer Casca, headed for Dawson City. The Whitehorse men would later join the Dawson party when it passed through town on its way south to Victoria.¹⁰⁵

Commissioner Black addresses an exuberant crowd on Front Street upon his arrival in Dawson City, June 6, 1916. Gates Collection

A large and enthusiastic crowd met the Blacks when they arrived in Dawson on June 8. Joe Boyle, who had often been George’s adversary in the past, greeted them and escorted them ashore, while a brass band played patriotic songs. Black, still weak from the surgery, walked briskly in full uniform into the street, where he greeted a line of fresh recruits, one hundred strong. He walked along, shaking the hand of each man. Boyle then addressed the Blacks, acknowledging Martha, whom he described as “a faithful worker in the cause of the Empire.”¹⁰⁶

Young students from the Dawson Public School enlisted during the war. George Black (in uniform) and Martha Black were proud of their son Lyman (front row, third from left) for enlisting. Yukon Archives Roy Minter fonds 92/15 # 746

George responded by acknowledging the large number of Yukon men who had already volunteered and the amount of money that had been donated to the cause by Yukoners. He said that the time was past when only single men should enlist. “It is a thought that is not only for every lover of freedom and every lover of civilization; and it is the duty of every lover of freedom and civilization to make that thought his own.”¹⁰⁷

Black referred to the legions of Americans who had come north to cities like Toronto, Winnipeg and Vancouver to enlist: “American citizens who feel as you and I feel about this war—that they want to get in it and help the allies win, because if they don’t—if the allies lose—it will not be long before the United States will come next, and that can only be prevented by fighting with us.”¹⁰⁸ After the Yukon Company marched back down Front Street to the barracks, with hundreds of citizens following the parade, the Blacks were conveyed to Government House.¹⁰⁹

The first contingent of volunteers was scheduled to leave Dawson the following day. Among them were a number of students from the Dawson City public school. Just before noon, they assembled on the front steps of the school with various dignitaries for a photograph. George and Martha Black were there, along with their son Lyman. It was a proud moment for George Black, Lyman’s stepfather, and the only father Lyman ever knew. (Unlike his two older brothers, Warren and Donald, Lyman never met his biological father, who split up with his wife, Martha, before she departed for the Klondike.) A few months later, on November 15, Lyman Munger Purdy had his surname changed to Black, in recognition of George’s parental role.¹¹⁰ Among the other students were Alfred and Norton Townsend, Frank Thompson (son of Dr. W.E. Thompson), Toby Duclos, Joseph Harkin and little Jimmy Matthews. Matthews, the youngest of the lot, was also the smallest. A mere 157 centimetres tall, he had to stand one step higher than the other lads for the photo in order to be shoulder to shoulder with them. The only one absent was Charlie O’Brien, the son of the brewery king T.W. O’Brien. Other students had already gone off to war; included among them were Donald Chester Davis and Frank Gane, both of whom would die overseas.

School superintendent Bragg remarked: “You are now going forth to preserve and perpetuate those grand ideals of British freedom. Others from our school have preceded you and may now be on the field of battle.”¹¹¹ They were all presented with a solid gold engraved disc, with the name of the recruit and a space for his regimental number on the reverse.

At eight that evening, the students were among the 129 men who lined up in front of the courthouse at the south end of Front Street for a photograph. There, the ladies of the IODE pinned a souvenir Klondike badge on every man’s coat. The evening before, they had presented each recruit with a handsome monogrammed utility kit, containing buttons, needles, pins, shoelaces and such. They had also raised sufficient funds for all of them to be presented with a wristwatch when they reached Victoria. Lieutenant G.G. Hulme called off the roll, and the men responded, “Here, sir.” Then Captain Black spoke to them. He “wished to congratulate the men on the manly part they have volunteered to do in the Empire’s cause.” Further, he said “the report has spread in certain places outside that men from the Yukon are much given to drinking.” He hoped that “this company would prove to them such is not the case, and that the best of reports will be heard from them. Nothing is so disgusting… as to see one in uniform disgrace the uniform by being intoxicated.”¹¹²

The men then fell into formation in front of the courthouse and marched down Front Street to the steamer berthed at the dock, followed by Mrs. Black and Mrs. Hulme, with her small son, Croft, in a carriage. George Brimston, who acted as parade marshal, led the home guard at the head of the procession. Then the Boy Scouts and the Girl Guides, all in uniform, followed. Next were members of the Yukon Order of Pioneers, two abreast. Pat Penny carried the banner of the order. Other members carried the flags of Britain, France and other allied nations. Then came the Dawson brass band playing stirring patriotic marches. One of the volunteers led the company mascot, a handsome grey malamute.

Finally came the volunteers, described in the Dawson Daily News as: “Stalwart, rugged, lithe, firm of step, resolute and ready for come what may. At the head walked Captain Black, presenting a splendid appearance in his khaki uniform… the men presented a stirring sight and as they marched past the large crowd of friends mingled emotions of sadness and pride struck every heart.”¹¹³

At the wharf, the Yukon Rifle Association parted ranks and presented arms. The Guides, Scouts and Pioneers stepped aside on the wharf, and the men marched through and onto the deck of the steamer: “The brave boys destined for the front swarmed over the boat from the Texas deck to the lower deck and soon were bidding a fond adieu to old friends… Husbands were embracing wives and little children, sweethearts were tearfully expressing their last well-wishes, and old pards of the trail and camp were giving the firm hand and ‘God Bless you Bill and good luck.’”¹¹⁴

The first group of volunteers for the George Black contingent posed in front of the Administration Building for this photo, June 8, 1916, before leaving Dawson the following day. Gates Collection

As the summer passed, more recruits were signed up. On July 11, thirty-five “brave lads” were honoured by the community before leaving Dawson on the steamer Selkirk, bound for Victoria.¹¹⁵ They assembled in front of the courthouse at the south end of Front Street, and after a group photo, they were greeted by the various chapters of the IODE, which were there to hand out the usual sewing and repair kits (“housewives”), though the Klondike badges would have to be forwarded to them in Victoria. They then turned about-face and marched out of the Mounted Police parade square, where they joined up with the Dawson Guards, followed by the Boy Scouts, the flag-bearing ladies of the IODE and the brass band, playing a lively march. Behind them were citizens in automobiles and others on foot. They made their way past Government House, where Captain Black, still recovering from his surgery, watched them from the broad upper verandah and saluted as they passed. Mrs. Black watched them from the boardwalk along the side of the street until they passed and continued down Front Street to the wharf. The dock was thick with people who soon swarmed aboard the vessel, wishing the men farewell.

Just before their departure, Alexander Mahaffy, the former vice-principal of the school, and commanding officer of the party, was presented with a pair of binoculars of the type used by officers at the front, as well as a gold disc similar to those given to the departing students, and received a speech by one of his former pupils, who closed by wishing him a safe return. Once the well-wishers had gone ashore, the Selkirk cast off and headed upstream to Whitehorse as the band played gay and patriotic airs and the crowd cheered.¹¹⁶ When this second party of volunteers arrived in Victoria, they were greeted by Lieutenant Hulme and some of the Yukon boys. Two days later, the Yukon Company was inspected by His Royal Highness, the Duke of Connaught, who stopped and talked to several men in the line of Yukoners before they formed up and marched by “like professionals.”¹¹⁷

Among the new arrivals was Yukon territorial councillor Norman Watt, who came to Dawson in 1898 and worked first in the gold commissioner’s office and then for the utility company. Back in 1905, he was a member of the Dawson Nuggets, the famed hockey team assembled by Joe Boyle that travelled east to Ottawa to challenge for the Stanley Cup. As Watt announced,

I have enlisted as a simple matter of duty. I feel that the time has come when every loyal Canadian who can get away should go… I am going with Yukoners because I believe there are no more resourceful men in the world. I would select them above all others. I hope they are kept together. No part of the world can produce men more accustomed to all-round frontier experiences and the great experience of hustling for themselves in face of emergency. Any man can be trained for ordinary soldiering, but it requires years of frontier life to get the experience the Yukoners possess in regard to getting along in face of all kinds of difficulties which try every man’s resourcefulness to the uttermost.¹¹⁸

The summer passed quickly, and the recruitment campaign continued. At the Discovery Day celebrations, Commissioner Black gave a speech praising the pioneers who settled Dawson City and wrenched $200 million in gold from the frozen earth. Black then turned his focus to the German conflict, accusing their enemies of barbarism. Germany has “therefore brought upon herself the odium, scorn and hatred of all decent people of whatever nation or race.”¹¹⁹ The Germans he painted as warmongers and fiends, whereas the British were peace loving. Black then praised the volunteers for stepping forward when duty called and stated that those physically fit men who had not yet volunteered were not doing their duty.

Although the number of available men had to be declining, the number of volunteers continued to rise. Toward the end of September, the IODE sponsored a dance at the Moose Hall in honour of the next batch of men from the Black contingent who were preparing to ship out to Victoria. George Black and many of the other volunteers attended the event; the hall was gaily festooned with flags, flowers and potted plants, and dancing to the strains of the John Dines Orchestra continued until two o’clock in the morning. The following day, Black aimed his sights at the Scandinavians, who were not stepping forward to volunteer: “Whether naturalized or not, they have the same opportunities as the native born in Canada and should have the same pride in the country… The company is not filled up and there is time enough yet for these descendants of the Vikings to show that red blood courses in their veins and that Canada may be proud of them as citizens.”¹²⁰

Although Martin Larson Hale, a Norwegian, and Pete Carlson Berg, a Swede, were the only Scandinavians to join the Black contingent, there were other Scandinavians who signed up. But they did not join in the numbers of other nationalities: twenty-two Balkan-born recruits and seventeen Americans could be found in the nominal roll of those who crossed the Atlantic with the Black contingent.

In October, as the remainder of the Black contingent prepared to leave Dawson, the Dawson Daily News singled out Mrs. Black for particular recognition: “For the loyal, capable and gifted helpmeet of Captain Black the Yukon ever will cherish the highest esteem and good wishes. The hospitality of Mr. and Mrs. Black at Government House and the devotion of Mrs. Black to the organization and promotion of patriotic societies in Dawson ever will be remembered in Dawson with pleasure and gratitude. Those societies and others will continue their work in Dawson mindful ever of the good that they can do for the Yukon boys at the front and the Empire in general.”¹²¹

With only a few days to go before departure, the quota of volunteers had not yet been met, as some had failed to pass their medical examinations. Still short by twenty men, George Black announced publicly that some had no good reason for not enlisting. Looking around Dawson, he could see quite enough eligible men to fill two whole companies. On October 5, the Yukon Rifle Association gave a nice farewell at Lowe’s Hall honouring their members who were headed for the front. At the function, George Black was loud in his praise for those who joined up, and, repeating a theme about Yukoners that would characterize his speeches and actions throughout the war, he said there were no men he would rather serve with than the Yukon’s loyal volunteers.¹²²

Also on the evening of October 5, the Yukon Order of Pioneers honoured the veterans of the gold rush and their sons who were going overseas. Taking a seat of honour along with George Black were Harold Butler, A.W.H. (sometimes known as “Alphabet”) Smith, C.S.W. Barwell, C. McDonnell, Sam Miller and Pete Allan. The following night, it was the Girl Guides who entertained the volunteers as the Campfire Minstrels, after which a dance was held in the theatre in their honour. But the biggest event was the reception and banquet sponsored by the British Empire Club at the Moose Hall the evening of October 7. The volunteers marched into the packed hall and lined up in rows of twenty at the front, where the ladies presented each man with the Yukon crest in bronze, to be worn on their caps. Various people sang songs, but the real hit of the evening was when little Gordon McKeen sang his own composition, titled “The Yukon Boys Will Surely Win Where the English Channel Flows.” Various speeches were given, including one by school superintendent Bragg, who acknowledged the deaths of four of the school lads who had already enlisted. The number would grow before the end of the war.

Speeches were given by several other dignitaries, including former commissioner and past member of parliament Frederick T. Congdon, and Judge Macaulay. After applause that lasted several minutes, George Black rose and thanked the IODE for the kindness they had shown his boys on the eve of departure, and, in particular, the purse of sixty dollars received from Mr. Yamaguchi on behalf of the Japanese residents of Dawson, for the purchase of tobacco for the members of the company. He mentioned the Girl Guides, who put on entertainment the previous evening, and the George M. Dawson chapter of the IODE. He thanked the 10 percent of the male population of the territory who had enlisted so far. He said he expected 110 men to sail from Skagway. He had fully 80 men ready to go. More were joining them from Whitehorse, Atlin, the Fortymile district and the Stewart River region.

He referred to the Canadian Patriotic Fund not as a charity but as a fund to help the families of those serving overseas:

I can truthfully say to you, in endeavoring to fill the office of commissioner, I have endeavored to give every man who had business to transact with me a square deal. I may have made some mistakes. I did make some, no doubt, as all do, but whatever mistakes I did make were of the head and not of the heart.

I want to thank the people also for the kindnesses and the kind things they have said on many occasions to Mrs. Black. She has been more of a help to me in being commissioner of the Yukon than probably any of you can realize. She has tried to do her duty in this community and I am happy to say the people of Yukon give her credit therefore, and I want to thank them for it…

I hope at any rate until the strife of this Great War is past, until this struggle for existence is finally over and the battle finally won, that the people of the Yukon Territory will lay aside their local and personal strifes and pull together for the good of the territory and for the good of the Empire.¹²³

Members of the British Empire Club served the banquet, which continued until shortly after midnight.

Final preparations were made for the departure of the men. On October 8, Commissioner Black and other members of the infantry company attended a service at St. Paul’s Anglican Church. The following day, the volunteers formed up in the rain and, in a ritual that was becoming all too familiar, marched from the courthouse with an honour guard of Pioneers and a brass band to the waiting crowd at the waterfront, where the men boarded the steamer Casca. With them was a solitary woman: Martha Black. Martha Munger Black was a force to be reckoned with, and she was determined to accompany her men overseas, at least to London, if not the battlefront. As the Casca pulled away from the dock only a few minutes behind schedule, the cheerful recruits lined the railing; at the centre of the happy crowd were George and Martha Black, wearing their greatcoats. All were waving farewell to those onshore.¹²⁴

Going Outside

Everybody aboard the Casca was subdued after the excitement of their departure from Dawson City. They settled in for the long journey up the Yukon to Whitehorse and beyond. Some played cards during the evening, and others crowded around the piano singing songs, while some wrote letters. A few just sat and stared out the windows, contemplating what was to come. Everybody slept soundly that night.

During the journey, Martha presented all of the men with the usual sewing and repair kits prepared by the ladies of the IODE. The men in turn presented her with a poke of gold nuggets, one from each member of the Martha Munger Black chapter of the IODE. Martha gave a little speech and everyone cheered; then “Sergeant Major” Thomas Greenaway presented several pairs of warm wool socks, also made by the ladies of the IODE, to George Black amid another bout of cheering.

As the Casca churned its way against the powerful Yukon current, Mrs. Black penned the following words, which she sent to her companions at the IODE:

The men of the Yukon Infantry Company, irrespective of race, religion or party, will be very close to Captain Black and me. He can always be with them to share in their work, their disappointments, their sorrows. But though the day will come when I see them all leaving to go where the stern reality of duty will face them from morning until night, yet I have dedicated my mind and my strength, God willing, to do all that I can to help our men, your men and my men until the day comes when the duty that calls will have become a thing of the past. In that work, I will need your help, the help of every man, woman and child in the great Yukon, and not only the help that your hands can give, but the help that your prayers and good wishes will always be to one who is your grateful and very sincere friend, Martha Munger Black.¹²⁵

During the upstream journey, the men were kept active, performing drill twice a day on the flat deck of the barge being pushed by the Casca. All supplies delivered to Dawson came in by riverboat. Since much of the main deck of the boats was used to hold the wood that powered the boilers, barges were attached to the fronts of the riverboats to carry additional freight. Aside from people, the boats did not carry much freight on the return voyage to Whitehorse, so the empty barge served as an excellent space for the men to exercise. The drills were strenuous enough to keep the men quiet for a couple of hours after. They enjoyed excellent food and there were plenty of magazines to read. Martha Black served as the purser of the nicotine, dispensing cigars and cigarettes judiciously so that they would not be used up too soon.¹²⁶

The journey passed quickly enough, and the ninety-two Dawson men, plus Captain and Mrs. Black, were joined by twenty-one more volunteers from Whitehorse and seven from Atlin.¹²⁷ The train ride to Skagway took just three hours, and then they departed Skagway on the Prince Rupert bound for Victoria, on October 14, arriving at their destination two days later. The same day that they arrived in Victoria, another group of eleven volunteers left Dawson City, including William Radford, who was in charge, and Hugh, Lawrence and Walter Chisholm. Less than two weeks later, a baker’s dozen recruits aboard the steamer Nasutlin were joined in Whitehorse by Frank Berton, from the Dawson mining recorder’s office, and Whitehorse men Louis Belney (a miner), Jack French (a carpenter), Billy Williams and Orris Church (a cook).¹²⁸

Officers and men of the George Black contingent (Yukon Company) pose proudly in Victoria before their departure for England, January 1917. Yukon Archives Roy Minter fonds 92/15 #146

By the middle of November, more than enough Yukon men had arrived in Victoria to form a company of 255 officers and other ranks. Some were billeted in the old drill hall on Menzies Street, and others in Sidney, but they would all soon unite in Victoria. They were a significant presence among the more than 1,000 soldiers temporarily billeted there before shipping out. At first, the men were accommodated in tents neatly arranged in a double row, with each named after a familiar Klondike feature, such as “Treadgold,” or “Dominion Creek.”¹²⁹ When the entire company had arrived in Victoria, the men took temporary possession of several buildings at the Willows Camp on the BC Agricultural Association’s fairgrounds. One building was set aside for officers, and another for the men. The mess hall was nearby, though the officers were messing with the officers of the 50th Regiment (Gordon Highlanders), and the sergeants, the same.¹³⁰

“We are all in one big building and this one big building is composed of one big room partitioned off by wire netting into twelve sections, each holding fourteen men,” reported George Vail Raymond. “We are given a tick and are allowed 10 pounds of straw. The tick goes on the floor, on top of which we have three blankets, increased yesterday to four. This constitutes our bed and it is sufficient. I have not been cold yet.”¹³¹

The week quickly passed with distributing the men’s kits, getting settled into their new quarters and organizing into platoons. Only the men of the most unusual measurements were still waiting for their uniforms to arrive. They settled into a routine: reveille at 5:30 a.m., parade at 6:00 and breakfast at 6:15. Drill was scheduled morning and afternoon with a break for lunch.