The Bald Facts
A Story of the Trenches by One Who Knew Them at Their Worst
He has a very illusory view of life who knows only its sunny phases; and his is worse than a deceptive impression of war—especially the monstrous war of 1914-18—who has vision only of its valorous deeds and heroisms, its thrilling tales of daring and achievement, of splendid adventure and fearless sacrifices.
Here is a revelation of the side of war seldom more than glanced at by those who tell of the moving exploits. It wears none of the trappings of romance; it is without allure; but it is terribly true. The New York Times History of the War made certain of that before publishing what it rightly described as one of the most thrilling human documents produced during that awful four years. The grim record of the young soldier’s experience is necessarily curtailed here, enough being given, however, to picture the grisly reality of war as millions of youths encountered it. It is not the stirring tale of a hero.
Roméo Houle, French parentage, was born in New Bedford, Mass., in 1893. He was the son of a local barber, Zacharie Houle. In 1912 he removed to Montreal, where he was employed as a barber, having followed his father’s calling. He had a grammar school education. He enlisted in the Sixty-first Regiment, First Canadian Division, Aug. 1, 1914, eager to serve in the war. He went with the Division to France, and was soon in the front trenches. During his service he made notes of his experiences. With the assistance of the editor of a French paper in New Haven, these notes were put into narrative form after young Houle, through the efforts of his father, was discharged from the army in 1916.
The narrative begins: “The true story of the trenches has never been told. I know, because for many months I lived in trenches. I have slept daily in dread of bullet, shrapnel, mine and deadly gas; and nightly in fear of mine and gas—and the man-eating rats. I am one of the few soldiers living who entered the front trenches at the opening of the war and lived to fight the Germans in the front trenches in February, 1916. Of my original company (the Fourth of the Fourteenth Battalion, Third Brigade, First Canadian Division) which so gayly marched away to that hell at Laventie and Ypres—500 brave boys—I am one of the sixteen who survived. And returning unexpectedly, snatched by the American Government (as an American citizen who had enlisted under age) out of the very jaws of death, with the mud of the trenches still upon my clothing, I discovered how much American people have been talking of the trenches and how little, after all, they know about them.”