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.