Private Earnest Nelson Carrick

Private Ernest Nelson Carrick

868143

Born: 1897, Washago, Rama, ON

Died: Sept 8, 1916, Bramschott Military Hospital

Buried at Kensall Green (All Souls) Cemetery, London England

What is considered a glorious death? One that a person’s ancestors recount and pass along to their next generation? The kind that is told around fire pits on warm summer nights with eager eyes listening intently as the tale of courage and bravery, of selfless sacrifice are relayed? Are they the type of stories that are recited by bright elementary schoolchildren as they nervously stand before their classmates on Remembrance Day and talk about their great uncle?

But what type of death is glorious enough to be remembered at least to be remembered over others?

Does it have to be about a brave warrior who responds to the shrill of the whistle, climbs the ladder, jumps the bags…and is immediately cut down to pieces? Or about a man who just executed a successful trench raid only to be blown to bits in response by enemy shellfire? Sure, tales of men with bayonets or wading through withering gunfire make for exciting family legends, however how should we consider the others? What about the stories of the men who merely travelled overseas, got sick and died? Died before they even have the chance to make it to the trenches? How should we remember those who died before getting the chance to die gloriously? How do we remember them?

I discovered the name of a 116th Battalion soldier who experienced what would be seen as a ‘unremarkable’ death. After training in Canada and joining his mates on the SS Olympic to travel overseas, he caught a respiratory illness in England, saw it develop into pneumonia, having it get worse and then, well, he died. Just died. Simple and sad, but it would be a stretch to categorize it as glorious death. The soldier’s name did not even make it into the battalion Roll of Honour. He was the second person in the battalion to die. He got sick three weeks after arriving in England, was admitted to hospital and after 14 days he passed away.

I have a certain feeling of trepidation in openly unearthing something that I discovered while researching this particularly unfortunate youngster. The individual was only 19 years old. In the time since his passing and possibly due to the limited information being relayed back home regarding the nature of his death, the prevailing information about the nature of his death found on genealogical websites memorialized him as dying of wounds received while fighting at the Somme. In researching his medical and service records, we are now able to correct this inaccuracy. He did not die from wounds experienced at the Somme. He picked up a bug, couldn’t kick it and died of the pneumonia that resulted.

One can imagine that over the past century, the loved ones he left behind would travel to Ramona United Church Union Cemetery (located just east of Washago) and regale his loss through a misunderstood lens related to the apparent glorious nature of his death. That nature gave his loss value. It comforted them and allowed them to feel a sense of pride. I am certain that nieces and nephews across the past 105 years would have related that foggy story about their great uncle and reimagine the glorious exploits he might have done at the Somme…one of the most storied battles in history. It gives me pause to feel that I might be letting them down and in- essence waking up a sleeping dog…so to speak.

Yet, I do feel that breathing some life back into those who gave all they had has merit too. Ernest Nelson Carrick of Washago Ontario was only the second soldier in the 116th Canadian Infantry Battalion to die. He was an eager robust young man who signed up to enlist only three weeks shy of his 19th birthday. He initially joined the 182nd Overseas battalion but was quickly transferred to the 116th while training at Niagara. He joined his battalion mates on SS Olympic and would have engaged in excited banter about getting the chance to give those Huns a licking! But instead of eventually dying a brutal, catastrophic, yet glorious death in the muck of Flanders, he spent his last few days and weeks struggling to recover from a respiratory ailment upon crisp white sheets, surrounded by caring nurses in a ward in the military hospital at Camp Bramschott.

May he rest in peace and may his ancestors be comforted knowing the truth around his passing.

Sergeant Harvey Alexander Keller

Sergeant Harvey Alexander Keller

679270

Born; 1884 in Lynden, Ontario

Died from Suicide and result of PTSD – Sept 8th, 1917

Buried at Longuenesse St. Omer Souvenir Cemetery

5:15am, September 8th, 1917

No. 7 Hospital - St. Omer General Hospital

September mornings in France…in-croy-able. As the sun approaches the horizon it reveals a warm orange glow, chases away the cool air and lets it rush through open windows. That is the prime spot for a soldier to be placed when convalescing. With the days still warm, the cool air lets the men sleep soundly. At 5:15 am, Sister Gibbs, the attending nurse, stopped to check in on him. He was already awake and returned a friendly smile upon her approach. He always did since he began his recovery a little over a month ago. The sergeant was wounded in his battalion’s first major operation of the war. “Through and through”….that was how his doctor described it. A minescule fragment of an exploding shell, randomly discharged by some random German gunner far off in the darkness, penetrated one side of his head just behind the ear. It went in, through and out the other side. Through and though.

Sister Gibbs made her regular check up on him and he seemed calm, relaxed and did not demonstrate a hint of any trouble. He was lying back in his bed and smoking a cigarette. Probably a Players. His name was Sergeant Harvey Alexander Keller. He was a native of Toronto and lived on a comfortable, tree-lined street in a neighbourhood called St. Clair West. It was not in the burbs but you could see them from where he lived. Harvey was 31 yr old. He was married to his Scottish bride, Elizabeth. Harvey worked as a clothing cutter in the local garment industry. When the winds of war swept through Toronto, the question of him enlisting was an easy one. Prior to the war, he served in the 109th Kings Own Rifles. While married for 5 years, Harvey and Elizabeth had yet to start a family. Thus, without much delay, he ventured down to the barracks and joined up with the 169th Battalion.

5:30 am

By 5:30am, the boys are all washed, their dressings replaced, their bedpans emptied and are left to get a couple more hours sleep before the new day begins. The ward is quiet. Calm. Nothing but the fresh air cascading over the men, as if blowing away their fears, concerns and allow to focus only upon recovery. Stillness.

5:45 am

An orderly passed by and noticed something amiss. An empty bed.

Sister Gibbs came by to investigate. It was then where she heard the faint sounds of a man groaning. Looking out the window, she saw him. Sergeant Keller was a crumpled into a mess of a man, on the ground below, the bandages of his wounded skull cap starkly visible from their second story opening. Doctors were immediately wakened. Nurses and orderlies rushed to provide aid…however it would be of no help. Within moments Harvey was no more.

A Medical Board was called. Nurse Gibbs told her story. As did Private Saunders who administered aid. Captain Adie was the doctor urgently woken and rushed to help. Medical doctor Captain Wagstaffe provided further context into the nature of his injuries and progress he was making in recovery. Private Ruffell was stationed in his ward and spoke to him daily. They all mentioned how happy and cheerful he was. How he was recovering so well and that he never showed any inclination that he was on the very verge of desperation.

We are left with only guesses. Why? Why did he do it? He patiently waited for the perfect time. Why? Was it something he feared? Did he fear going back? Going back home? Why was this his only option? He had so much to live for…was recovering well. He was expected to make a full recovery. Why? Was it an escape? From what? From whom? Was he of sound mind? Or as he drew on that last puff, and saw the young nurse recede into the distance, retiring from his ward, if only for a few sparse minutes, why did he decide to control his own fate? Why did he decide to end his life and end his war? Why?

Lest we forget.

CQMS Arnold Penman

Company Quartermaster Sergeant Arnold Penman

643810

Born 1878 Ashton, Underlyne, Lancashire, England

Lived in Orillia, ON

Killed in Action - Dec 31, 1917

Buried at Mazingarbe Communal Cemetery Extension

Where does the line exist between duty and expectation when it comes to enlisting to fight and serve? Is it dependent upon when the line is to be drawn or the urgency and need for men to replace those who have fallen? What about married men? Men with children? Should they be called upon to serve? A cause as righteous as the Great War for Civilization (as it was referred to at the time) would it matter one’s age? For some men, the cause was too great and they felt it was their duty to forgo their familiar responsibilities and join the war. One such gentlemen was a man named Arnold Penman.

Arnold Penman was 37 years of age. Just a few years prior, he uprooted his family from their home in England and moved all the way across the world to end up in the sleepy lakeside town of Orillia. Alice, his wife and two young daughters, Lilian and Vera, would hope to establish a new home and life in Canada. Within two years of arriving, however, war broke out and two years after that they came looking for men to sign up and fight ‘over there’. The 157th was the local battalion and long queues of men sought to partake in the big adventure. One would expect that he looked out of sorts when he took his place in the line. Arnold was at least double the age of most of the lads. He would more easily have known the fathers’ of the boys signing up than the young lads themselves. Yet, the draw of expectation and duty was too great for the aging gent and Arnold Penman put pen to paper an joined the cause.

One can imagine the sight of the middle-aged father scaling the heights of the make-shift parapet or plunging his bayonet into the bag serving as the Kaiser. In basic training, the almost 40 yr old soldier would have had to accomplish the same physical exercises as the boys. Yet one could imagine that very morning his body would remind him of his true age. The battalion set off for England in the fall and continued their training at Camp Bramschott. It was here where the officers determined that Arnold would best suit a job fitting his both age and relative fitness…thus, he was appointed Company Quartermaster Sergeant.

For those unaware and unfamiliar with the structure of a battalion, each battalion consisted of about 800-1000 men and was split up into Companies consisting of about 200 men each. A company of 200 men required a significant amount of organization to transport, feed, house, cloth and supply with weapons and ammunition. This was the job of the Quartermaster. Whether the platoons of soldiers be in reserve or up in the line, Arnold had to make sure they were fed. He also needed to make sure they were equipped to fight and had blankets to keep them warm. From the lad’s perspective, Arnold would have been the fatherly figure who looked after them. From warm socks to a fresh pair of pants to replace the ones torn to shreds from crawling through the mud…Quartermaster Penman was their man.

He served as CQMS in both the 157th and in the 116th when they were deployed to France. Prior to every engagement, Penman would be the one who supplied the officers with their jugs of rum to give the men a little liquid courage. He would also be the one who had to adjust the food, clothing and supplies when the battalion reported so many of the men as dead, missing or injured after a night over the bags. That was the plight and burden of the quartermaster…to know the fresh faces, clothe them, feed them and protect them with arms….and to be one of the first in the morning to know their loss when they did not report back for their rations or a change of fresh clothes.

The records do not tell the story of his death…other than “1 other rank wounded, now died.” The battalion has just moved from the line to their Billets in the areas of Houchin. This was a village located west of the town of Lens. It could have been an unlucky shell or the skilled work of a sniper as he supervised the movement of supplies to the front…one would never know. However, it would be certain that the loss of their Quartermaster, the now 40 yr old fatherly figure, Albert Penman would be felt greatly by the men.

Sergeant Penman gave it all…and some may say he gave too much.

Lest we forget.

Sergeant Sidney Osborne Dennison

Sergeant Sidney Osborne Dennison

775472

Born 1893 in Inglewood, ON

Died from Spanish Flu in Aberdeen, Scotland Nov 3rd, 1918

When war washed over the world in 1914, young Sidney Dennison was out in the fields, working the land to help support his family and their livelihood. He was from a village just west of the town of Bolton Ontario called Inglewood. As many of his friends would have also done, when Lt. Col. Hamilton set up a recruiting station in Brampton to raise his 126th OS “Peel” Battalion Sidney traded his hoe for a rifle and signed his name to the attestation form.

Sidney became Private Sidney Osborne Dennison on Nov 15th, 1915. After basic training, the battalion departed Canada and arrived in England in August of 1916. It was here where the remarkable young man began his ascent up the military leadership ladder. He was promoted to Lance Corporal at Camp Bramschott in September, right before he was transferred to the 116th a month later in late October.

Upon joining the 116th, he was reduced to Private but rapidly moved up being appointed Lance Corporal then Corporal then Lance Sergeant and up to Sergeant. He would have been able to showcase his leadership skills as the Battalion fought at Vimy, Avion, Hill 70, Passchendaele and up to and through the final push in the summer and fall of 1918. Sidney navigated these battles with skill and determination, constantly and relentlessly serving alongside his mates while pushing back the enemy.

On Oct 20th, his superiors granted Sidney 14 days leave to England. Imagine being thanked for his fine efforts with a well-deserved vacation just days before the war was expected to end. The allies were pushing back the Germans Army, taking thousands of prisoners. While he could have be thinking about taking Berlin, his heart was now set on some rest in the UK.

While the details are not known, however they can be imagined. He left his men on Oct 20th and immediately set out for the coast. Between his arrival at port and the trip across the channel, Sidney would start to feel unwell. A few days after that he would check into a hospital to seek medical care. The Spanish Flu was already ravaging across Europe, North America spreading its’ deadly tentacles around the world. Akin to today’s pandemic, the effects of the disease was rapid and without remorse. Six days after leaving his men and four days after being admitted to hospital, Sidney succumbed to the influenza. He became one of Canada’s 61,000 war dead and one of the between 50 and 100 million to die from the Spanish Flu.

Let we forget.

Lance Corporal Harry Thomas Newton

The First to Fall

Lance Corporal Harry Thomas Newton

746216

Born in Saintfield, ON - 1897

Lived in Uxbridge, ON

Interred at Uxbridge Cemetery, Uxbridge ON.

As the SS Olympic pressed forward, driving its’ way across the Atlantic in the July of 1916 one could imagine what was going through the heads of the men it was transporting… the men of the 116th Ontario County Battalion. The entire battalion was on board and excitedly anticipated their chance to join their countrymen and knock back the Hun pushing them back from Northern France and Belgium. The men would have plenty of chances to contemplate their fates as they made their way to England. As they basked in the summer sun and chatted with their brethren, they would brag on who would be the first to bag a German. Who would be the first to go over the top? Who would be the first to have a medal pinned on their breast pocket? And yet…intermixed in their conversation they would wonder…who amongst them will be the first to fall? Lance Corporal Harry Thomas Newton…while no doubt engaging in this same enthusiastic banter would not know that would be the first to fall.

Young Harry Newton was only 18 year old when he signed up to join the 116th. He was a slight young man, of average height and weight (135 lbs) and hailed from the hamlet of Saintfield…a small community just east of Uxbridge. While the transport from Halifax to England would have been fairly uneventful, there is a good chance he knew something was up as he started to feel unwell. Arriving in port on July 31st, LC Newton was admitted to the Isolation Hospital at Aldershot on Aug 2nd. He was immediately provided treatment for spinal meningitis, an infection of the brain and spinal cord. Harry would not recover from this debilitating condition and passed away three weeks later on Aug 23, 1916.

Every young soldier dreams of experiencing the sights, sounds and excitement of war. They eagerly look forward to earning their chance at glory. Some accept and realize the high probability they may fall. Harry’s fate would not live up to these lofty goals of an excited youthful infantryman. Instead, he died even before he had any real chance to prove himself. His body was returned to Canada and interestingly, while his fallen mates from the 116th may lie far away in France and Belgium, today he shares the same final resting spot of his own Lt Colonel, Samuel Simpson Sharpe in the Uxbridge Cemetery in Uxbridge, ON.

Associated links

https://soldiersofuxbridge.wordpress.com/.../newton.../

Private Sylvester Angus Herbert

Private Sylvester Angus Herbert

644065

Born Simcoe, ON (Orillia)

Died April 1st, 1917

Buried at Bruay Communal Cemetery

Modern warfare is something that one cannot just ‘learn on the job’. This reality was very true at the beginning of the Great War and continued until the later stages of the conflict in 1918. For the Canadian’s volunteering for the war service, each one of them had to go through much training and preparation. For the 116th, many of the men went through basic training at Camp Niagara in the late Spring of 1916 before being sent overseas that July. However, many of the men would come to serve in the battalion started by enlisting in other battalions. They would primarily train at the newly constructed Camp Borden. These men enlisted with the 126th (Peel), 157th (Simcoe Foresters) 164th(Halton and Dufferin), 169th (Toronto), 173rd (Canadian Highlanders - Hamilton) and 208th (Irish Canadians-Toronto). Once in England, the men trained at the Camp Bramshott and Camp Whitley.

Private Sylvester Herbert, from the Hawkestone south of Orillia ON, enlisted with the 157th Simcoe Foresters. He would have trained at Borden and Bramshott in England prior to getting folded into the 116th in December of 1916. The men crossed the channel with the rest of the battalion on Feb 2nd, 1917 and set out to further prepare for war. He was assigned to “A” Company and joined them up in the line when they first took positions on the foot of Vimy Ridge. In the months before the planned attack, when not in the line, the men were involved with extensive training in all the camps situated in the area to the West of Arras and Vimy. For green soldiers, like the men of the 116th, this preparation was critical to both the success of the attack and for the effectiveness and wellbeing of the men.

One week prior to the planned attack, the men of the 116th had been involved in live fire training at a town called Houdain when the incident occurred. Platoon after platoon of men from each company would be called upon to participate. If a man could not effectively use his weapon in the benign conditions of a practice trench that was not being bombarded by high explosive shellfire, how would he perform when he was? Thus, soldier by soldier, they moved through the make-shift trench and when it got to be their turn, they discharged their weapon. However…as happens in warfare, mistakes and accidents happen… sometimes tragically. It was during one of these practice sessions that while attempting to shoot his grenade rifle, Private Herbert, rather than seeing his grenade propel out of the muzzle to blow up an imaginary German in the distance, it just fell to his feet and blew himself up. An terribly unfortunate end to a young soldier, so full of promise and prospect.

Lest we forget.

Here is a copy of the letter sent home to Private Herbert's mother.

Major H. P. Cooke

Dear Madam,

As company commander of “A” Company of the battalion, the unpleasant duty falls on my lot of informing you of the facts concerning the unfortunate death of your son S.A. Herbert. We were practicing a platoon in attack on a system of trenches using live bombs and live rifle grenades. Fourteen platoons had gone over the course when the platoon to which your son belonged had its turn. Your son was a rifle grenadier and was firing at an imaginary point along with others of his section. I myself was near the scene of the action when I heard a grenade explode in the trench, closely followed by another. I realized something was wrong as the bombs were further down the trench and no one would be throwing live bombs in that place.

Hurrying over I found to my horror that one man was wounded and proceeding further found the body of your son. He never suffered. Death was instantaneous. I have made an investigation and the cause of the accident was defective cartridge. The grenade in question was placed in a cup attached to the muzzle of the rifle and a pin holding the spring that drives the striker onto the cup that sets fire to a fuse which exploded a charge in the bomb is drawn out. What happened in this case was that the cartridge was strong enough to allow the spring to work and then it fell back. Probably your son did not notice that the had acted until it was too late. Your son had recently been with us to a trip up to the line and there as in every other case, conducted himself as a Canadian soldier should.

Since he joined my Company at Whitley, your son was a model of what a soldier should be. His platoon commander and comrades all speak highly of him and the most general regret in felt as his most unfortunate death. I made it my personal business to at once do all that could be done and battalion arrangement will be made who died just as much for Canada as if he had fallen in the field of battle.

Lt Col. Sharpe in writing to his mother said, ”He was buried with full military honours on April 2, 1917 in a little town about three miles from here. “A” Company to which he belonged attended in a body with the band and firing party, and the Rev Mr. Bradford, late of Orillia and now with the battalion conducted the service in a very suitable manner, and he was laid to rest with fully military honours. I attended to pay my last respects to the by and you and your family have my sincerest sympathy. From accounts, your boy was an exceedingly good soldier and it will be greatly regretted that he died without an opportunity to meet the enemy.”

(Barrie Examiner May 10, 1917)

Lance Sergeant Samuel James Caufield

Lance Sergeant Samuel James Caulfield

678241

Born Dunminning, Ballymena, Ireland 1890

Lived in Toronto, ON

Killed in Action – Dec 20, 1917

In honour of today, being St. Patrick’s Day, I am remembering a member of the 116th of Irish descent. Born in the north of Ireland, on a green spot on the map barely registering as a place at all, a spot called Dunmining. His name was Samuel James Caulfield. His father was a labourer from a nearby farm called Killycreen and his mother was Annie. Like many others of Irish descent at the time, in 1907 his folks left to pursue a better life and found themselves in Toronto via Belfast.

Samuel grew up to become a tall strong lad, 6 ft 1 in height. He served six years with the Royal Canadian Regiment the found a job walking the beat as a policeman. Then as the winds of war came whipping through Toronto, he accepted his duty and responded by enlisting with the 169th Battalion in January of 1916. The 169th was the overseas battalion of the 109th Regiment. Departing from Canada in late October of that year, upon arrival in England Samuel was promoted to Sergeant. He spent the next few months training before being transferred to the 116th in January of 1917. The battalion proceeded to France on Feb 11th, just in time to participate in the attack on Vimy Ridge.

In the summer of 1917, Sgt. Caulfield was slightly wounded in the neck on the attack on Fosse 4 at Avion. After a month’s convalescence he was back with his men for the advances on Hill 70 followed by slogging through the mud at Passchendaele. Recognized for his leadership skills and abilities, he was again promoted assuming the rank of Corporal on Nov 25th, 1917. However, most tragically….and I will let the Casualty Form entry tell the story of his end… detailing his final days as a man, a soldier and a promising leader in the 116th.

“On the night of Dec 20th, he was one of a party which went up to the trench in advance prior to his battalion taking the front line in the vicinity of Lens. The party was proceeding along a communication trench, he being the last one when an enemy shell exploded behind him. Several fragments which hit him in the back. He died the same night at No. 7 Casualty Cleaning Station.”

The headline simply said, “Died of Wounds”.

Lest we forget.

Lieutenant Francis Alexander MacGrotty

Lieutenant Francis Alexander MacGrotty

Born: Glasgow, Scotland

Lived in Whitby, ON

Killed at the age of 22 on Dec 25, 1917

Interned at Mazingarbe Communal Extension (just to the west of Lens, France)

Francis was a Glasgow, Scotland native who emigrated to Canada with his family and signed up to Sam Sharpe’s regiment on Nov 24th, 1915. Prior to war Francis served in the 34th under Sharpe and hence answered the call when the Lt. Colonel announced he was raising a battalion. He had achieved his Sergeant’s certificate in the 34th which contributed to him being appointed a commission as a Lieutenant in the 116th. Not bad for a 22 yr old civil engineering University student.

Akin to the situation often attributed to the structure of battalions in the UK, the officers selected to lead the men in the CEF were also often from prominent families. Within civil society they could have been lawyers, bankers, teachers or doctors. Francis was no different from his officer peers. His father, Charles Francis MacGrotty (based in Whitby, ON) was Ontario’s Chief Constable. This would make him the highest-ranking police officer in Ontario.

On the ground in France and Belgium, Francis led his men through action at Vimy, Fosse Raid, Hill 70 and Passschendale…watching 126 of his battalion mates fall in battle. His war, however, would end tragically on Christmas eve 1917. While leading a platoon on a wiring mission Francis was struck by machine gun fire followed by two observed hits as a sniper as he struggled in the mud. A sad loss for a promising and successful young man.

Lest we forget.