Doctor, Soldier, Poet

My family and I visited Ypres (now Ieper) in Belgium a few years ago when I was doing research on my first Muskoka Novel, The Summer Before The Storm, set during WW1. The first thing that struck me, besides the fact that the city has been beautifully restored from the rubble of war, was that Lt. Col. John McCrae’s famous poem, “In Flanders Fields” – penned on the battlefields nearby - was plastered everywhere about the town, even in our hotel lobby. The WW1 museum, housed in the rebuilt Cloth Hall, is called “In Flanders Fields”. How surprised I was when I boasted to the owner of the English bookstore that I lived in John McCrae’s hometown, only to have him casually reply, “Oh, you’re from Guelph, Ontario.”

I know that the small museum in Guelph honouring John McCrae regularly has visitors from Europe, so their respect for this famous doctor-poet is more than lip service for tourists.

The author paying homage at John McCrae's grave in Wimereux, France

 I found humanist John McCrae a fascinating person, and couldn’t resist having some of my characters work with him in France in Elusive Dawn. Two of them attend his funeral. Here are excerpts from a letter one writes about it.

We attended [McCrae’s] poignant funeral in Wimereux along with so many others, including lots of brass hats, which speaks of the esteem in which the Col. was held. What was almost hardest to bear was to see the Colonel’s horse, Bonfire, following the flag-draped coffin, with the Colonel’s riding boots reversed in the stirrups. I’ve never seen a sadder animal, for surely he must have known that his beloved master was gone. I cried hardest then… Among the many flowers was a wreath of artificial poppies that the officers from the Colonel’s hospital had managed to procure from Paris. I do think that the Colonel’s most famous poem resonates with everyone, for it seems as if a veil of sorrow has descended on all the staff and patients here. His words will live on and touch many more lives – children yet unborn. That is a noble legacy, is it not?

Shell-Shock

They trembled, couldn’t sleep, were terrified of loud noises, suffered from headaches, dizziness, ringing in their ears. Some lost their memory or the ability to walk or talk. But they were often considered cowards or malingerers. One doctor said that shell-shock was a "manifestation of childishness and femininity". Treatment included electro-shock therapy, hot and cold baths, massage, daily marches, athletic activities, and hypnosis.

 

Siegfried Sassoon, 1915, photo by G.C. Beresford

Officers were sometimes given psychoanalysis as well, especially at the famous Craiglockhart War Hospital in Scotland, which treated poets Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen. Read Sassoon's poem "Survivors", about shell-shocked soldiers, which he wrote while he was there.

Shell-shocked officers were said to have neurasthenia while the men (usually from the "lower classes") were classified as hysterics.

Medical evidence showed that shell concussion could cause neurological damage - tiny hemorrhages in the brain and central nervous system. But men exhibited symptoms of shell-shock even when they had not been exposed to artillery fire. In 1916, a distinction was made between those who were shell-shock wounded (W) and sick (S). Wounded was honourable, and entitled the victim to wear a “wound stripe”.  The others received no stripe or even pension.

In 1917, the term shell-shock was no longer allowed. Patients were classified as Not Yet Diagnosed Nervous (NYDN). The men called it Not Yet Dead Nearly. It’s now referred to as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

Understandably, many of my characters suffer some degree of shell-shock.