From A Stretcher Handle
Private FRANK WALKER
[1893-1977]
Field Ambulance, 1st Canadian Contingent
From a Stretcher Handle: The World War I Journal & Poems of Pte. Frank Walker is a first-person narrative centred around the life and times of Prince Edward Islander Frank Walker (1893-1977), during his service with the Canadian Field Ambulance, Canadian Medical Corps, from its inception in 1914 until 1919, after the Great War had come to a close. Frank Walker was my maternal grandfather.
In the 2014 documentary special Canada’s Soldier marking the hundredth anniversary of Vimy Ridge, CBC News correspondent, Peter Mansbridge retraces the steps that Canadians took as they were dispatched to fight in The Great War.
Even after 100 years, many memories from the First World War remain cloaked in mystery. Canada’s Soldier relates stories of 4 Canadian soldiers including my grandfather, stretcher bearer Frank Walker, whose war journals, read by Peter Mansbridge throughout the documentary, provide the connective underscore. Mansbridge cites Walker’s distinguished 50 year career as an editor/journalist referring to him as “the wordsmith from Charlottetown”.
Frank Walker’s story is first up and is interspersed throughout.
My maternal grandfather, the late Frank Walker, served as a stretcher bearer in WW1. Returning to civilian life, he worked as a newspaper reporter for 15 years eventually rising to become Editor of The Guardian of Prince Edward Island where he presided for another 35 years.
A gifted journalist of 50 years, Mr. Walker of The Guardian was widely respected across political lines for his impartiality, knowledge and accurate reportage. He was respected also for his substantive philosophical viewpoints that he frequently interweaved brilliantly into his editorial commentary, the substance of which defined his personal and professional ethics. He was a lifelong aficionado of classical music, classic literature and history. His book shelves and music collection were my own earliest intellectual introduction to our collective inheritance of Judeo/Christian Western Civilization. Many seekers of Grandaddy’s wisdom included a spectrum of society in those days. Writers, poets, artists, politicians, university professors, clergymen, all beat a well worn path to Mr. Walker’s library for the pleasure of sharing his company.
Being the eldest in my family and the first grandchild born to “Nana” and “Grandaddy” Walker on Prince Edward Island, I was closest to my grandfather in terms of our mutual affection. We were great pals and he loved that I shared a genuinely deep appreciation for his interests.
Frank Walker was admired and respected even by Liberal Prime Ministers of Canada. Photo: Frank Walker and PM Lester B. Pearson
He was offered, but turned down, the opportunity to serve as a Senator in The Parliament of Canada. That says something of his true character especially in light of partisan politics. He valued his independence and freedom from subservience to anything but the truth.
He loved his life of intellectual and artistic pursuits, which was his work as well as his passion, and he loved his family and his country.
God Bless you, Grandaddy. Thank you for your service to your country. You will always be remembered and your poetical gifts as a natural born scribe will never die. Your poem, Packing Out (A Ballad of the Stretcher Bearers), captures the reality of “into the red confusion”.
I am proud to be your Grandson and proud to be a writer. Just like you.
Poem
W.W.I. April, 1917
Packing Out (A Ballad of the Stretcher Bearers)
I
We loaf around the Aid Post, on the sand bags in the sun,
Taking the jeers and sneers of every passing son-of-a-gun.
We are the lousy stretcher-squads, the discards of the Pack,
The idlers of the Army— til the Army’s next attack!II
And then, some bloody morning, when the sky’s a blazing red,
And the batteries are roaring loud enough to wake the dead,
And the little mad machine-guns the infernal racket swell
With the din of devils riveting the boiler plates of hell.III
—Oh, then it’s “Good Old Stretcher-Bearers: they’re the boys for trouble!”
“Gangway for the Stretcher-Bearers coming on the double!”
“Gangway for the Bearers!” goes from trench to trench the cry,
And everybody hops aside to let the “Bearers” by.IV
Into the red confusion and through the din we pass, —
Stumbling along the trench mats, holding our breath for Gas —
Scrambling over the bald-spots, hearing the bullets whine —
Over the gaps and through the saps and up the Firing Line.V
We go where men are falling in the awesome barrage-tract,
We dig them out, and pick them up, and pack them safely back.
Over the wire and through the mire and down the Line we go,
And you can bet your old Tin Hat our pace is far from slow!VI
Back and back we go, til the battle-field is clear,
Private FRANK WALKER – Field Ambulance, 1st Canadian Contingent
(It’s good to hear the wounded chaps giving us the Cheer!)
Back and back we go til the bloody job is through, —
Then it’s “Good old Stretcher-Bearers!” and “A double Rum for you!”
Aftermath
With Desolation and the Stars
I lonely vigil keep,
Over the garner’d fields of Mars,
Watching the dead men sleep —
Huddled together, so silent there.
With bloodless faces and clotted hair,
Wrapped in their long, long sleep!By uptorn trees and crater rims
Along the Ridge they lie,
Sprawled in the mud, with out-spread limbs,
Wide staring at the sky.
Why to the sky do they always stare,
Questioning heaven in dumb despair?
Why don’t they moan, or sigh?Why do I rave, ‘neath the callous stars,
Private FRANK WALKER – From the Somme, 1916
At their upturned faces white?
I, surely I, with my crimson scars
Slumber with them this night!
Death, with shadowy finger bare,
Beckons me on to — I know not where;
But, huddled together, and freed from care
We’ll watch till the dawn of Light.