Alberta from Albert in the Great War

The war time service of a brindle bull terrier

Alberta, much respected in life, honoured in death

Excerpts from The Great War As I Saw It by Lieutenant-Colonel Canon Frederick George Scott reveal the story of Alberta from Albert, a brindle bull terrier found by the Reverend on the Somme in the town of Albert. Alberta, the Reverend’s constant companion till her untimely end in 1918. In a case of mistaken identity, loyal Alberta executed on the battlefield, having committed no crime.

Note the annotation of MIKAN 3522132 incorrectly identifies the location of Reverend Scott. Of course, the Canon is seated in the front row, second from left with the only known image of his constant companion Alberta from Albert.

The death of his dog left him trembling and incoherent with rage. Three years of bottled-up emotion exploded. He had seen men torn to pieces and die in every conceivable way yet the death of his faithful Alberta unleashed the anguish he felt.

Faith Under Fire by Alan Hustak

The tale begins with the loss of Philo, Scott’s previous canine companion.

Château Camblain l’Abbé

From Roellencourt we moved up to our new headquarters in the Château at Camblain l’Abbé. Which, after we left it in December, long the home of the Canadian Corps. I had an Armstrong hut under the trees in the garden. After it was lined with green canvas, and divided into two by green canvas curtains, quite artistic and very comfortable. Opposite the Château we had a large French hut which arranged as a cinema. The band of the 3rd Battalion stationed in town. They gave us a concert every evening, also playing at our services on Sundays.

After the concert over I used to announce a “rum issue” at half-past nine in the building. The men knew what it meant, and a good number would stay behind. Then I would give them a talk on temperance, astronomy, literature or any subject about which I thought my audience knew less than I. We generally finished up by singing some well-known evening hymn. Very pleasant the entertainments we had in that old cinema.

One night, before a battalion was going up to the line, I proposed we should have a dance. The band furnished the music, and the men had one of the most enjoyable evenings they had ever had. Camblain l’Abbé was not a large place. So we were cramped for room, and a Nissen hut had to be built for “C” mess.

Philo the white fox terrier

A few days later my establishment increased by the purchase of a well-bred little white fox-terrier. He rejoiced in the name of Philo and became my inseparable companion. The men called him my curate. Dandy, Philo and I made a family party bound together by very close ties of affection. Though none of us could speak the language of the others, yet the sympathy of each enabled us to understand and appreciate one another’s opinions. I always knew what Dandy thought and what he would do. I always knew too what Philo was thinking about.

Philo had a great horror of shells. I put this down to the fact that he was born at Beuvry, a place which had been long under shell-fire. When he heard a shell coming in his direction, Philo used to go to the door of the dugout and listen for the explosion, and then come back to me in a state of whining terror. He could not even stand the sound of our own guns. It made him run round and round barking and howling furiously.

Philo’s close call

A visit to the trenches was most fascinating. I used to take Philo with me. He found much amusement in hunting for rats, and would often wander off into No Man’s Land and come back covered with the blood of his victims.

One night I had missed him for some time, and whistling for him, when a sentry told me that a white dog had been “captured” by one of the men with the thought that it was a German police dog, and he had carried it off to company headquarters under sentence of death. I hurried up the trench and just in time to save poor little Philo from a court martial. There had been a warning in orders that day against the admission of dogs from the German lines.

The loss of Philo

My little friend Philo had been stolen on our march. So, his place taken now by a brindle bull terrier which had been born in Albert. I called her “Alberta” and as time went on she became a well-known figure in the First Division. She often accompanied me on my walks to the trenches. One day I was out in No Man’s Land when a minenwerfer burst. Alberta from Albert did not wait for the bits to come down. But made one dive into the trench, to the amusement of the men, who said she knew the use of the trenches. She was my constant companion till her untimely end in 1918.

Nine Elms

The engineers had had a dump for their material near the Bethune-Arras road. And, when they moved it forward to a place called the “Nine Elms,” the engineer officer gave me his dugout. Partly beside the road and partly under it. It consisted of several rooms. One of which contained a bed. It had steps going down to a deep chamber whither one could retire in case of shelling. It was good to have such a large and comfortable establishment. When Alberta from Albert chained up in her corner and I had strapped myself into my kit bag at night, we both felt very snug.

Nine Elms Military Cemetery

The only trouble was that visitors kept coming at all hours to ask for engineering materials, not knowing that the character of the abode had changed. Early one morning, an officer came in a great hurry. Waking me up, asked if there were any winches there,—he pronounced the word like wenches. I sat up in bed and looked at him sternly, and said, “Young man, this is a religious establishment, I am the Senior Chaplain, and there are no wenches here.” He did not know quite what to make of the situation. “I mean wooden ones,” he said. To which I replied, “Young man, there are no wenches here, either wooden or any other kind; the engineers have gone forward.” He apologized and left.

Imperial Soldier

On another occasion, in the darkness of middle night, an Imperial soldier had lost his way came down the steps. He put his head into my door. And began to stammer and hiss in such an extraordinary way that Alberta from Albert roused and barked furiously. I woke up with a start and asked what the matter was. All I could get from the poor man was a series of noises and hisses.

I turned on my flashlight, and a very muddy face covered with a shock of red hair looked in at the door of my little room. With many contortions and winkings, emitted a series of incomprehensible noises. What with the stammering man and the barking dog, I was at my wits end to find out the trouble. At last by a process of synthesis, I pieced the various sounds together. Found that the man wanted the location of a certain British battery. I gave him the best information I could.

Scott

On May 4th, orders came to us that we had to move. At night I walked over the old plank road to say good-bye to my son. For their battery was to retain its position. And on the next day, followed by little Alberta from Albert, I rode from Arriane Dump to my old billet in Bruay. Breaking the journey by a visit to the 87th Battalion at Château de la Haie. We had returned to our old quarters covered with glory. On all sides, the French people were sincere in their admiration for what the Canadian Corps had done. It was certainly delightful to get back to clean billets. To be able to enjoy the charming spring weather on roads not shelled and in fields rich in the promise of summer.

Our Headquarters once again made their home in the Administration Building in the square. The usual round of entertaining went on. During the daytime, battalions practiced the noble art of open warfare. The sense of “Something accomplished, something done,” inspired our men with the ardour of military life. Bound us all even closer together in the spirit of valiant comradeship.

Château d’Ohlain

It was a long tramp down the silent road in the darkness. The houses in the little villages through which I passed tightly shut. Not a light could be seen, and Providence supplied no car or lorry for my conveyance. On a hill in the distance, I saw the revolving light which acted as a signal to the aeroplanes. It would shine out for a few seconds and then die away. The air was fresh and cool. I had time to meditate on the curious events of the intense life which I lived. It was still day in Canada, and the sun was shining over our cities, the great lakes, the prairies, and the jagged peaks in the mountain province on the Pacific coast.

When was this life going to end? Were we really making any progress? Overhead, my beloved friends the stars, kept up their silent twinkling, which gave them an appearance of life. In the valley lay the old medieval Château of Ohlain. I thought of the historical figures from the pages of French history who had walked along that road centuries before. Filled with the anxieties and problems of their own age. Now and then, some bird of the night would break the silence with its cry or twitter. And still I plodded on. At last, long after midnight, I reached the outskirts of Bruay. Entering the High Street, made my way to my billet, where Alberta from Albert was waiting to give me a warm welcome.

Our Last War Christmas

I spent three days at Ypres, and then, by jumping lorries, made my way back to St. Venant and Robecq, where I spent the night. The next morning I left for Bethune, and thence by the assistance of lorries and a car continued my journey to our new Divisional Headquarters, which had found a home at Château de la Haie. Here I had a billet in an upstairs room over what had been part of a stable. The room was neither beautiful nor clean, but served as an abode for me and Alberta and her newly-arrived family. The Château was a large house of no distinction, but it stood in delightful grounds, and at the back of it was a pond whose clear waters reflected the tall, leafless trees which bordered it.

One fact made the Château popular and that was, that, up to that time, no shell or bomb had fallen in the neighbourhood. It was said that the location of the Château was not to be found on the enemy’s maps. Round about were huts with accommodation sufficient to house a whole brigade.

Bruay Theatre

The charm of the place was completed by our 4th Division having erected there a large and most artistic theatre, which would seat on benches nearly one thousand men. It had a good stage and a pit for the orchestra in front. This theatre, when our concert party was in full swing, was a source of infinite delight to us all. It was built on the slope of a hill, the stage being at the lower end and a good view of the play therefore, could be had from all parts. The scenery was beautifully painted and the electric lights and foot-lights well arranged.

Château de la Haie

I thought I had better go off and find a place where I could spend the rest of the night. With my haversack over my shoulder and followed by Alberta from Albert, I entered the gate, and made my way up the avenue till I came to the Château. It was a large and picturesque building, and stood out nobly against the outline of the trees in the park. The moon lit up the gray stone front, which was made all the richer by the variegated light and shade. The mansion, however, showed no inclination to be hospitable. All the windows were tightly closed with shutters, and there was no appearance of life anywhere. I knew we were not far from the advancing Germans, and I supposed that the inhabitants had all fled.

I was so cold and tired that I determined to force an entrance and spend the night inside. Walked round to the back, where I saw a great park richly wooded. A large door in the centre of the building, reached by a broad flight of stone steps, seemed to offer me a chance of getting inside. I went up and tried the handle. When, to my surprise, the door opened and I found myself in a beautiful hall richly furnished and lighted by a lamp.

Arabian Nights

Antlers hung on the wall, and the place had the appearance of an English country-house. After my long ride, and at that hour of the night, I felt as if I were in a dream. I saw a door to the right, and opening it was admitted to a modern drawing-room luxuriously furnished. A grate fire was burning on the hearth, and on a centre-table stood silver candelabra with lighted candles.

There were also plates of bread and butter, some very nice cups and saucers, and a silver coffee-pot. At once I said to myself, “I am evidently expected.” It was like a story from the Arabian Nights. I looked about the place and not a soul appeared. Alberta from Albert tucked herself up on a rug and was soon fast asleep.

Colonel Edmund Ironside and Gibby

I was just preparing to partake of the refreshments which, it seemed, some fairy godmother had provided, when in came one of our A.D.Cs. He was as much surprised to see me as I was to see him. He told me that our Divisional Commander had arrived there about an hour or two before and had gone to bed. And that we were in the home of a certain count whose servants had all fled. Also told me that there was a bedroom that I could have upstairs. Which would not be occupied by our staff until the next evening.

Rest

I had a cup of coffee. Then, calling Alberta from Albert and taking a candle, I climbed a very rambling staircase till I reached the top storey. I found an empty room with a very dirty bed in it. However, I was glad to get a place in which to rest. So, with my rain-coat for a covering, I went to sleep. The next morning, having foraged for some water in which I had a good wash, I went off to the village to get some food.

I met many of our units coming up in busses. Some halted by the wayside, and nobody knew what we were going to do or why we were there. The Imperial transport officer in charge had either acted under wrong orders or else the drivers did not know the roads. Some of our battalions had lost their way. One even entered a village at the other end of which were the Germans. And two of our Engineer Companies disappeared completely for two days.

No Man’s Land

A great treat for our men who were billeted in villages in the Scarpe Valley to have plenty of water. And in the various mill-ponds they found swimming-places. Our front line at this time extended for quite a long distance north and south of the Scarpe. In fact the river acted for a short distance as No Man’s Land. On the north of the Scarpe were the ruins of the village of Fampoux, and on the south those of Feuchy. How well our men will remember the towns of Maroeil, Anzin, St. Nicholas and St. Aubin.

I used to go off across the meadow lands, now bright and fresh with spring verdure, till I got to the St. Eloi road, and then by jumping lorries would make my way to St. Nicholas and on to Cam Valley. On the east side of the valley were quaint dugouts which were occupied by the battalion in reserve.

Pudding Trench

A path up the valley led to the communication trench, and finally down Pudding Lane to Pudding Trench. The ground elevated, so that from one of the trenches which led down towards Fampoux I was able to see with my glasses the country behind the German lines. I saw quite distinctly one day the spires of Douai, and in another direction on a hillside I could make out a railway train which must have been carrying German troops.

I had many interesting walks through the trenches, and slept there several times. On one occasion I took Alberta with me, but she would persist in going off into No Man’s Land hunting for rats. The arrival of a minnenwerfer, however, gave her a great fright and made her jump back into the trench with alacrity, much to the amusement of the men, who said that she knew the use of trenches.

The Death of Alberta from Albert, 24 April 1918

Our Division, however, was soon moved from Etrun to Château d’Acq. I arrived at four one morning after a visit to the trenches. I found my billet in an Armstrong hut. The people who had occupied the Château since we were there must have experienced an air raid. Because, extraordinary precautions had been taken to guard against bombs.

German Aeroplanes

I lit my lamp and found that the bed surrounded on all sides by a wall composed of two thicknesses of sandbags. When I got down Into it I felt as if I were in a grave. In the morning I got my batman to remove the fortification. As I thought no occasion to anticipate the sensations of being buried. However, at night I often heard German aeroplanes overhead. And it was a relief when their intermittent buzzing died off into the distance.

We were now a long way from the front line. But by jumping lorries I was still able to go forward and visit the slums. On returning from such a visit one afternoon I suffered a great loss. The order had gone out some time before that all stray dogs were to be shot. And many poor little four-footed souls were sent into whatever happy land is reserved for the race which has been the earliest and best friend of man.

Best Friend of Man

I had kept a sharp lookout on Alberta, but I never dreamt that anyone would shoot her. However, that evening I was getting ready to go off to Ecoivres. Alberta was playing in front of my hut. The sergeant of the police, carried her off, unknown to me, and ordered a man to shoot her. When I came out from my hut, I whistled for my faithful friend. I was told that she had been condemned to death.

I could hardly believe it. But to my dismay I found that it was only too true. The poor little dog. Known all over the Division and had paid many visits to the trenches, not only shot but buried. Filled with righteous anger, I had the body disinterred. A proper grave dug for it in front of a high tree which stands on a hill at the back of the grounds. There, surrounded by stones, is the turf-covered mound. And on the tree nailed a white board with this epitaph neatly painted in black.

Epitaph of Alberta from Albert

HERE LIES ALBERTA
of Albert
Shot April 24th, 1918.
The dog that by a cruel end
Now sleeps beneath this tree,
Was just the little dog and friend
God wanted her to be.

Epitaph of Alberta from Albert

Alberta from Albert, much respected in life, honoured in death, for nearly all the men at Headquarters present when buried, and one of them told me that at a word from me they would lay out the police. I should have liked to have given the word, but I told them that we had a war on with the Germans, and that we had better not start another till it finished.

Alberta lies buried beside a tree at Château d’Acq, Acq, a commune in Pas-de-Calais.

Epilogue

On the following day the board with the epitaph placed in position in the presence of a Brigadier-General and our kind-hearted and sympathetic C.R.E. I was so filled with indignation at the loss of my companion, who, wherever I tied up Dandy, would always mount guard over him and allow no one to approach him, that I determined to seek a billet away from Headquarters, and near the front. However, this intention frustrated a day or two later by an order which came through for our Division to go into rest at a place called Le Cauroy, not far from the town of Frevent, and about 15 kilometres to the southwest of Château d’Acq.

Nursing Sister Agnes Florien Forneri

On 17 April 1918 Nursing Sister Agnes Florien Forneri collapsed while on duty at No.12 Canadian General Hospital in Bramshott with a violent stomach haemorrhage. Despite transfusions and an operation she died on the 24th of “multiple peptic ulcers.” Given a military funeral and was buried in St Mary’s Churchyard in Bramshott.

Sergeant Bill of the 5th Battalion (Western Cavalry) in the Great War

On 23 August 1914, a train carrying soldiers of the 5th Battalion (Western Cavalry) stopped at Broadview, Saskatchewan. A group of recruits noticed young Daisy Curwain, and her cart goat, named Bill. They asked Daisy if they could have her goat as their good luck mascot. At first, Daisy reluctant to part with her proud pet. But, the men promised Bill would be well-cared for, and returned to the Curwain farm on their way back home. Daisy agreed, gave Bill a warm good-bye hug, and thus began the service of Sergeant Bill.

Read Sergeant Bill’s full story here.

Animals in War Dedication

The Animals in War Dedication honours animals that served alongside their human comrades in war. Symbolically set next to the South African War Memorial, a battle for which Canada supplied 50,000 horses for mounted troops. The footprints of dogs, horses and mules stamped into the concrete of the Animals in War Dedication, representing the marks they left on the battlefield. Three bronze plaques depict animals in war and provide interesting facts about their roles, their sacrifices, and their unwavering loyalty. Among the roles animals have played in war:

• Mules: Carried panniers and artillery.
• Horses: Carried mounted troops and hauled field guns.
• Carrier pigeons: Delivered messages to specific destinations.
• Dogs: Used as messengers, medical assistants, bomb detectors, and search and rescue workers.

A bronze, life-sized statue of a medical service dog stands guard over the dedication, wearing an authentic replica of a medical backpack that war dogs used during the Great War. Canada’s military still employs dogs to this day. The Animals in War Dedication created in 2012 by Canadian artist and sculptor David Clendining.

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