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.