Private Frederick Bentley
643847
Born: Cottingham, England
Killed in Action – Vimy Sector May 26, 1917
Interred at Noeux-les-Mines Communal Cemetery
It was a sudden flash. At least that is how his mind perceived it. When he came to, one single word bellowed out to waiting ears…”Stretcher!!” Private Frederick Bentley, the young immigrant to Canada and former resident of the quaint village of Cottingham, Yorkshire has been hit. Initially, it was disbelief…followed by confusion. Shock had yet to set in…like a visitor, sympathetically blurring the intense pain that was about to descend upon him. Prone in the trench, in the dirt, covered in dirt and blood one image flashed before his eyes…it was one of the eyes of his only love, Olive.
One and a half week’s shy of their first wedding anniversary, suffering from severe gunshot wounds that mutilated his body, Fred only thought of the young bride he left behind. The scene was often experienced in towns across Canada in the summer of 1916. In his case, the setting was a small town situated between two lakes. Lake Simcoe to the south and Lake Couchiching to the north and the town of Orillia nestled in the middle. Beauty on both sides and when combined with a warm summer day, cool fresh breezes from the lake cascading over them while two young lovers exchanged vow of eternal love and companionship…one a 22 year old wearing his dress khaki’s and the other, a 17 year old ravishingly beauty beaming with happiness, clad in all white.
Help rushed over to him quickly. Without delay, two battalion mates raised Fred on their stretcher and raced their way through the trenches…trying to desperately remove the private as quickly as they could to the safety of the rear. Once assessed, he was placed upon a truck and then forced to endure an 18km journey to the closest Casualty Clearing Station. Their destination was Noeux-les-Mines, a town situated behind the lines and close to transport options back to the coast and safely home in England.
Sharp pains cascaded across his body, waking him up again….and once again he saw her. He knew the second he saw her. 18 is an exciting time for a young man. Frederick Bentley was born and educated in Cottingham, a town located just outside the town of Hull, UK and situated on the Humber which flowed out into the North Sea. Upon reaching this age, he joined his sister, mother and father and immigrated to Canada. Their destination was Orillia, Ontario. Being a new face in a small town, Frederick would face the typical challenges of meeting new friends, trying to fit in and getting a job. The transition would soon become almost too easy. Where and when it happened…only they could tell…at a town fair? a trip to the market? or more commonly, two sets of eyes would meet on a Sunday morning, glances exchanged across the rows of pews, possibly utilizing the monotonous breaks in the pastor’s sermon to a more fortuitously end, that being initiating something new, fresh and exciting.
With each mile, each pothole, each shell hole…the lifeblood of Private Frederick Bentley would slowly slip away. Between bouts of consciousness, his mind raced between images of his family, his early life in England, the day he proudly signed his name to join the 157th Simcoe Foresters. Closer. Closer. Almost there. The final flashes would linger…one could only guess the content…thoughts of regret, of leaving her, flighting feelings of what could have been…if only. Feelings of loving care, eternal concern for the one he would soon leave alone. His transport to the No. 7 Casualty Clearing Station at Noeux-les-Mines would have just taken too long and his injuries proved to be too severe. On May 26th, 1917 as a result of being another victim of the awesome power of machine gun fire, Frederick would finally, terribly and tragically, succumb to his wounds.
Lest we forget.