[Editor’s note: The newspaper and date of publication are unknown. The letter excerpted in the article was written by Pte. Conner following the Battle of Valenciennes, which took place October 28 to November 2, 1918. This estimated date of letter creation, rather than the unknown date of newspaper publication, has been used for website posting.]

[included with the article is a portrait-type photograph, captioned:  “PTE. BYRON CONNER.”]

LAST HUN IN MONS DIED AS HE TRIED TO FLY WHITE FLAG
Pte. Byron Conner, Prescott, Was that Valenciennes.
HAD HIS PACK SHOT AWAY
Dangerous Duties of Stretcher-Bearers Are Evidenced by His Story.

When the Canadians took part in their last big “scrap” for Valenciennes, Pte. Byron Conner, son of Mr. and Mrs. George W. Conner, Prescott, was a participant as a stretcher-bearer with his western battalion. His company went in 85 strong and came out with only 21, Pte. Conner having a portion of his kit torn to pieces by shrapnel. Of this battle and of succeeding events he tells in the following letter:

“We are now engaged in a 150-mile tramp to Coblenz, Germany, and as I write we are spending a few days in Havre, Belgium, which is east of Mons, for a rest. Might say we are looking forward to being at home for the strawberry season and most probably before, providing we survive this march and contracting the ‘flu.’ There are a few cases in the army, but they are dealt with properly which does not give it time or chance to spread.

“As I mentioned in a letter before I have been stretcher-bearing lately and have had quite a scope of work among the boys and civilians. You see in an advance we get the boys just as they get hit. They yell stretcher-bearer and we go on the double to them. Sometimes it is a slight wound and other times they are wounded so badly that you realize on first sight they have but a few minutes more. Then, believe me, is when you have to do the right thing at the right time. As is quite often the case, it is impossible to get the men out to the doctor or station where he can be rushed to the hospital.

Many Lost at Valenciennes.

“In our last scrap, which was for Valenciennes, the company came in 85 strong, and when a sergeant, a runner and myself got to the objective, we all looked at one another, wondering. Eventually 19 more wandered in along with one other stretcher-bearer. Our objective was a little trench running between two roads about 50 yards in length. It lay in a field which separated a small town from Valenciennes. The Boche was still in Valenciennes and our little company took up its position and began war again on a quieter scale, as our artillery was scarcely in range, that is, the smaller guns. Anyway orders had been given that Valenciennes was not to be shelled, as it was a large city and a grand one, too. They figured the Germans would evacuate that night and they did, but not before they left many of their soldiers on the fields of Valenciennes. In mopping up the next day we got about 350 in the cellars, most of whom were sent back as prisoners, providing they didn't make any false moves.

“Gee, but we were a fed-up bunch that last scrap. We got to our [assembly?] point [about?] [several words missing due to damaged paper] steady, drizzling rain and then [?] up what cover we could get in shell holes as Fritzy was still shelling pretty heavily.

Caught Between Two Fires.

“Our guns never fired a shot until the signal shot at 5a.m., and on the signal being fired everyone fell into position. As soon as the barrage had played for three minutes on Fritzy’s first defence it lifted and we advanced. During this time Fritzy opened his barrage and we were between the two. Suppose you wonder how we felt. Well, though you would scarcely believe it, I felt as if my nerves had suddenly turned to concrete, and all the boys were just the same. Talking was impossible, as the noise was at its climax. The headquarters stretcher-bearer and I were together when — whizz, bang, right on my left side came a dandy and though it looked as if we couldn't be missed, we were. Frank, the other stretcher-bearer, got away unscratched, but I got a slight scratch on the left leg and had my haversack cut up. Just here I might say that those white socks you sent last were cut up so nicely that I figured they were about as good a souvenir as I could take back to Canada, but, alas, during the next 20 minutes we were so hotly engaged in dressing and fighting that I had to ditch everything and just keep my panier with some necessities, along with my trusty revolver, as we were facing countless numbers of Huns. In the meantime Frank and I shook hands on our marvellous escape. Till eight o’clock we were subjected to very heavy machine gun fire and the boys were falling fast, but we made our objective and held it till relief came that night. The beauty of it was that Valenciennes, the beautiful city it is, was taken without any civilian lives being lost in the city was not destroyed.

Back to Billets.

“That night when the shattered battalion was taken back to the billets they left the night before, hot supper was waiting for us, but as we sat around the billet eating there was very little said, as there were only 21 of good old ‘B’ company to enjoy it. Though we had seen many hard times together we had never before gone back after a fight to the same billet we had made comfortable and where we had enjoyed life together. I tell you as we ate I cannot express to you in words how we felt. After we had finished our hot supper we began to feel better in each one of us began asking another what happened this one and that. We rested a couple of days and then came on up in support of the Second Canadian Division, which was at the taking of Mons. We had no more casualties as the division took Mons easily.

“Just now we are billeted in the region where the British made their first and last stand for Mons, the latter ending the war. The Belgian people who were here in 1914 and saw it all are still here and tell us all about it. When the Canadians advanced this time on Mons, a German officer, when he saw them coming, bid all the inhabitants where he was staying good-by, but he just got across the road about 50 yards in the field when our boys shot him at 150 yards range. When they got up to him he was pretty nearly all in, but was still trying to get a white handkerchief out of his pocket. He was the last German to be shot.”