McMurtrie - Three soldiers (Seaforths) on train at CPR Station in Vancouver, leaving for overseas, 15 (17) December, 1939. From the Regimental History (pages 60 - 61 ): "Lt-Col. Stevenson left [on 12 December, 1939 for Halifax], the battalion received notice that it would be leaving the city by two special C.P.R. trains on the morning of the 15th December. Lt. D. M. Clark, the Acting Adjutant, had a four-page movement order ready the next day, and early on the 15th everything was ready. It had been a hectic week, but by 0800 hours the battalion was lined up for a final brief inspection by the District Officer Commanding Officer. The greatcoats, rifles, respirators, and large and small packs made movement awkward. Outside the armoury, in the rain, wives, sweethearts and relatives of the Seaforths had begun to gather as early as 0730 hours. An hour later crowds were lining the streets along which the regiment would march to the railway station, and city policemen were diverting traffic from the route. At nine o'clock the great doors of the Seaforth Armoury opened, and the roar of the drums echoing inside the building brought forth the Pipes and Drums playing "Scotland the Brave" as they led the khaki columns out into the street. Swinging right over the Burrard bridge, the Seaforths noted that lining the street were men from the 15th (Vancouver) Coast Brigade, R.C.A., the 1st Searchlight Regiment, R.C.A., and the 11th District Signals, R.C.C.S. Near the crest of the bridge Brigadier J. C. Stewart, DSO, accompanied by various staff officers, took the salute. At the end of the bridge the crowds thickened, and when the pipes struck up "Blue Bonnets over the Border" when marching down Granville Street, there were almost two battalions marching--one of soldiers and one of civilians. Coming up in the rear the brass band was playing marching songs from the Great War, and the combination of the two--the shrill, defiant cry of the pipes and the solid, military sound of the brass band-brought surges of emotion to the thousands who cheered the regiment on its way. Mr. Alan Morley, a local newspaper reporter, summed up the scene on the station platform in these words: There was kissing and shouting and tears and brave smiling and long, long waving of hands and hearty back-slaps and shouts of "Good luck!" and half strangled "God bless you's" and more kisses and girls weeping and tucking pathetic little notes into uniform pockets to he found later, and an exchanging of souvenir badges and brooches and all the immemorial, sad, tear-dimmed ritual. And in the midst of it a few civic dignitaries and important personages looked on bewilderedly as their dignity and importance dwindled to nothing in the swelling tide of common emotion. And when it was all over, the place was empty and the streets around were filled with a thinning crowd of sad-faced men and women, some of whom had not cried before but were crying now. Shortly after ten, the first of the two special trains pulled away from the station, followed by the second within the hour. The long journey had begun, and for many of those who watched the familiar sights of the city pass by, it would be almost six long years before they saw Vancouver again. It took five days to travel [to Halifax]."