My Grandfather Archibald McDonald left the
Deep South of New Zealand for WW1 with his trusted horse, as a member of the
Otago Mounted Rifles – he was just 18 years old and knew his horse would not be
returning. They sailed by boat to Europe,
from Auckland.
Grandfather fought against the Germans by
day, and by night some of them from both sides would meet at a “safe house” and
drink and play music together. My Grandfather played the violin and was a mean
fiddler.
At some point during the battles he and his
fellow soldiers were gassed, and this caused him to eventually lose half his
stomach.
He also caught influenza while fighting in
the trenches, which resulted in him lying on a slab in a hospital in London,
given up for dead. While the bodies were
being inspected, a nurse happened to put a small mirror under my Grandfather’s
nose and could see condensation. “This one’s not dead,” she was reported as
saying. Thank heavens for that nurse.
~ Michelle Scullion
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