Private James Thomas Rogers
Born Littleborough, Lancashire England in 1886
Lived at 16 Carlisle St. Hamilton, ON
Enlisted with 173rd Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders
Killed in action Aug 27th, 1918 at Bois du Sart
Buried at Vis-En-Artois British Cemetery
Living mere steps from the dark, sooty, acrid smelling steps of the industrial sector of Hamilton, Ontario in 1916 would have been a challenge for any family. It would have been even more so if your household included two 8 and 10 yr old adolescents and a wife who was less than one month away from giving birth to your third child. The draw of duty and expectation was that strong in the time of war. To spend another long torturous day as a labourer in the nearby Westinghouse factory, return home and then see your dear wife, exhausted, struggling through the late stages of her pregnancy, trying her best to keep your family in order. In today’s environment, it would be inexplicitly confounding to try to understand how it could happen…yet it was a different time and era and those fateful words were uttered. James turned to his wife Ethel and simply said ”I am going to enlist tomorrow”.
I am certain that she knew it was inevitable and that he really had no other choice. He had spent three years serving in the local militia regiment, the 91st Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders. The pay was almost nothing but it did help in feeding their youngsters. However, the very prospect of her husband and provider leaving her to head overseas and join the worst war in modern history while she stayed home to raise their kids on her own would have been daunting. Yet, it was expected and if viewed from the perspective of the times there would be few complaints nor expectations to the otherwise. Her husband, Private James Thomas Rogers would be going to war. He was going to send back what he could and she would look after their youngsters while he was away. She and her children were going to be okay.
Thus, on the 9th of February 1916, John Thomas signed his name to his attestation form and joined the 173rd Highlander Battalion. Thankfully, he was not immediately deployed as it gave him the chance to spend a few months with their new child. The boy would be named after him, James Rogers. James would grow up in the United States as his mother, Ethel would move the family there after she learned what happened. In time, just like his dad, he would become a solider himself. There is a chance that when he served in the US Army in WW2 that he too was able to try to find where his dad was killed and buried. He did have one memory that he could cherish his entire life. It was a picture of him sitting on the lap of his father, alongside his mom, older sister Nellie and brother Lord (who died too soon at the age of 14). Seeing himself clad in the colours of his battalion and surrounded by the ones he loved so dearly, one would think that a dogeared, well-worn copy of this same photograph would have been found on the body of Private James Rogers when it happened.
James Thomas Rogers was born on March 24, 1886 in Littleborough, England. Littleborough was a small town situated 12 miles north of the industrial megacity of Manchester. At the young ages of 18, James and his hometown sweetheart, Ethel Kershaw by his side would decide to emigrate to Canada. It was here where the pair settled in Hamilton, got married and decided to start a family. Theirs was the story of many soldiers who joined the CEF. An ex-pat from the auld country, responding to the call of their King to return and fight for the freedom they held dear.
Private Rogers and his mates departed from Halifax and arrived in England on the SS Olympic and arrived in Liverpool on the 20thof November 1916. His unit would be transferred to the 116th Battalion in March, just in time for the great Battle of Vimy Ridge. Rogers’ time on the march, in the front lines and support would have encompassed almost all the battles the battalion participated in. He would have scampered over the top in the great raid at Avion in July of 1917 and would have been scratching the earth looking for a safe place to protect himself from the terrible shellfire at Hill 70. And our course, he would have had to make it through the hell of Passchendaele. With each battle, the number of old hands would have dwindled further and further. Rogers, meanwhile, would have watch his pals die one by one or see them get carted off to a waiting ambulance never to be seen again. One by one he would watch the numbers draw down. His turn happened on the 27th of August 1918 when the battalion was asked to participate in an attack on a series of German strongholds east of Arras. Rogers was killed in action in the Battle of Arras in a place called Bois du Sart. The details regarding his passing are not listed however, the battalion history records that a large number of men were killed by machine gun fire while trying to take the position. The attack was initiated with very little preparation and very little artillery bombardment. The war had transitioned to one of movement…and when he moved forward across the field of battle, he would be stopped and his war could come to an end.
Remember him.