Nova Scotia/Nunavut Command of The Royal Canadian Legion www.ns.legion.ca 63 The real significance of these three words is only known to a soldier who has gone through hell, and starting out on such a holiday, sees before him two solid weeks of life and luxury. We call it “Blighty” leave, a word that has been coined by the Tommy meaning England. The possibility of leave is hoped for by all ranks, but always doubted. So, when I was told I was to have a fourteen days’ trip to “Blighty”, I could hardly believe it. It was exactly three months since my arrival the second time, and the thought of leave was far from my mind. The battle of Passchendaele, however, with its heavy casualties made such a change in the roster that my turn came around very quickly. Well from the moment I received my warrant until I was on my way, was a matter of minutes rather than hours. Thought it did not happen to be a very good time for me to take leave, I soon forgot. One cannot go to England for two weeks at one’s own chosen time. The day was dark and cloudy with an odd shower. I mention this because I had to ride a matter of ten miles in mud and water to the nearest station. But the road did not seem long, and the weather, as far as I was concerned, a mere matter of detail and not bothering me in the least. My mind was filled with visions of dear old “Blighty” – its warm hotels, its bright theatres and crowded thoroughfares, and I may add, its myriads of beautiful women. Too full of these delights to dwell for a moment on wet clothes – that I think is the frame of mind we all take on when speeding away from the lines. My horse is a wonderful creature – fast as a streak of lightning with racing blood in her veins. In fact, she is easily the fastest saddle in our lines. Breaking camp, I let her run and in a very short time had left my groom so far behind that he never caught up, where, by the way, I had tied (my horse) and boarded the train, pulling out before he made an appearance. I think it was the second best (ride) I have ever had. I judge best by the amount of pleasure it gives, for I have had many exciting, many jaunty, adventurous and many unpleasant journeys on horseback since coming to France. You may be curious to know something of what I consider the best. It was quite different from the one I have told you about. The enemy push had started and things in our particular sector were mighty lively. I was in command of a company for the first time actually holding the line, needless to say I had some anxious moments, when Fritz was making a bid for our line, and incidentally our pelts. We stood them off very nicely, however. We received orders to move to another part of the line, just where, nobody knew exactly. Our first halt was at a very small village where we billeted for the night. The night was a quiet one as far as the troops were concerned but a busy one for me. My orders for the next move were being changed almost hourly, and our intelligence was getting more and more interesting as the battle progressed. In fact, by morning, we were continued ... continued ...
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