Sergeant Ernest Henderson

Sergeant Earnest Henderson

690078

Born Lindens, ON (Hamilton)

Killed in Action on Sept 29, 1918 in the Battle of Canal du Nord at Cambrai

Buried at Ste. Olle British Cemetery, Raillencourt, France

The wail cascading from across the distance instinctively caused his toes to rhythmically tap along. His well-tuned ear easily recognized the familiar song, the pipers' ballad commemorating the clan’s loyal backing of the crown against the Jacobites in 1715. It was The Campbell’s are Coming…used by highlander battalions when marching into battle for over 150 years. For Earnest Henderson, it was the song adopted by his adopted battalion the 173rd Highlanders, the Argyle and Sutherland (Prince Louise) Battalion from Hamilton, Ontario. And for the proud Scottish-Canadian he it would straighten his back and bolster his spirit before leading his men over the top.

Henderson enlisted in the war in Feb of 1916 at the age of 29. He was a respected citizen working as a Grocer and attending lodge in town as a Freemason. With 12 years serving with the 91st Argyllshire Highlanders prior to the Great War it was expected that he enlist when the call was made. Thus, he left his wife May at home in Hamilton and went off to war. Upon joining the 173rd he was quickly promoted to Sergeant and transferred to the 2nd Reserve and 8th Reserve Battalion before joining the 116th on August 18th, 1918. This coincided with the time that the 116th ‘s ranks were bolstered by an influx of replacements and conscripts.

Despite serving in reserve battalions for over 2 years, he was able to manage to avoid any serious injuries other than the odd bout of influenza and appendicitis. His luck did run out when on the 29th of September in 1918 when the 116th was decimated on the approach into Cambrai in the midst of the 100 Day Push. 94 men of the 116th would fall on that fateful day, including the Sergeant from the Hamilton, Earnest Henderson.

Lest we forget.

Corporal Carl DeGeer

Corporal Carl De Geer

868273

Born: July 6, 1898

Killed in Action Sept 29, 1918 at Ste. Olle in the Battle of Canal du Nord at Cambrai

Buried at Ste Olle British Cemetery - Raillencourt

At the tender age of 16 or 17, Carl De Geer was learning his preferred trade within the local newspaper, The Uxbridge Journal when the first death notices would arrive. Horrific accounts of the Battle of St. Julien, later known as one of the Battles of the Second Battle of Ypres would be arriving. This was the battle where the Germans used poison gas as an offensive weapon for the first time. These stories would need to be edited, set and printed. Newspapers were the primary medium to inform the local population of all events, foreign and local. One can surmise that young Carl, the strapping 6 ft 1 apprentice, would read every word, devour every account of a death or injury to any local chap who went to France in the first wave. Being the conduit to inform the masses on eventualities from the Great War, Carl would always be the first to know.

It was under these circumstances, that when he was about one month away from reaching the age of 18 that Carl signed his name to his Attestation for and joined Lt. Col Sam Sharpe’s battalion. It should be noted that he was still rather young, Carl was assigned to the sister battalion to the 116th, the 182nd Battalion. Carl was transported along with the battalion to England in the March of 1917 where he was transferred to the 3rd Reserve Battalion then to the 208th Irish Canadians.

Two days before they were deployed to France, Carl was transferred to the 116th. Meanwhile, he was rapidly moving up the ranks within the battalion hierarchy. As a 20 yr old man, he was appointed Lance Corporal then full Corporal, both with the 208th and later with the 116th. These are great achievements for a young man, full of energy, courage and promise. His role would require him to lead a squad of 12 men on engagements in the field, such as Hill 70, Passchendaele and especially with the kick off of the 100 Day Push at Amiens on Aug 8, 1918. He would also need to manage his men once they were given a respite from the front and moved back to Reserve for rest, supply of construction roles.

Like many of the men who fell with the 116th, the battles of the 100 Day campaign would turn out to be a deadly series of encounters for Canada. Carl was wounded on Aug 15th, 1918 with a minor general contusion. That unfortunate scrape put him out of commission for two weeks. However, he quickly returned to the battalion and resumed his leadership role only to fall in the deadliest day for the 116th, Sept 29, 1918. He was killed in the advance on Cambrai at St. Olle in the Battle of the Canal du Nord.

Lest we forget.

Private John James Beveridge

John James Beveridge

2591293

Born Glasgow, Scotland 1891

Killed in Action – Sept, 29, 1918; Battle of Canal du Nord, Attack on Ste Olle

Buried at Saint Olle British Cemetery, Raillencourt, Cambrai France

One can imagine the look on the Recruiting Officer’s face when he walked in the door. The day was on Halloween, thus it is understandable why he may have shown a look of disbelief on his face. Could you describe a more typical late round pick for the war effort? Weighing in at a solid 160 lbs and 5 ft 8 in height he would have been a rough looking lad. A former coal miner from Dunfermline, Scotland with brown hair and blue eyes, the 26 yr old ex-pat Scot surely got their attention when he rolled back his shirt to showcase his tattoo covered arms. However, the coup de gras on his venture to report in at the Hamilton-based recruiting station would have been when the Lt. Col. stood up to shake his hand and welcome him to the Canadian Expeditionary Force. John would have reached out delivering a strong handshake, his thick muscular mitts developed from years bashing at the black rock firmly grasping the officer’s hand. Then, the interaction would be cemented by a wide proud smile blithely showing off his chicklets, one on the top and a haphazard collection of 6 or 7 on the bottom. With that John James Beveridge became a Private in the Canadian Army Service Corps.

The final year of the war was different in nature and composition from those years that preceded it. On May 18 of the previous year, the Canadian government passed the Military Services Act which mandated that all males between the ages of 18 and 45, to serve in the war effort if called upon. Thus, in the Fall of that year John James Beveridge would have become 503126BR – Draftee.

He was called up for his Medical Examination on Oct 23, 1917 and told to return and join the Canadian Forces one week later on Oct 31st. John’s service would start with the Canadian Army Service Corps to the 8th Reserve Battalion the following March. In August of 1918, only a week after the Big Push kicked off he would join the 116th Battalion. Joining a Battalion in the middle of a major attack is akin to meeting your new teammates for the first time in the final two minutes of a football or basketball game. Yet, many, many men found themselves in this difficult position.

Private Beveridge would not be given any time to learn how to stay alive in a modern war. Instead he was given a gun, a company and a platoon, with the most valued gift being an old-timer to wish him good luck. Even the chance that this occurred was limited. Following the sound of the whistle and the man in front of him, the wide eyed tough would have been no match for what he was up against. On September 29, the bloodiest day of the war for the battalion, John James would have met his end by rambling into a criss-crossed hurricane of machine gun fire. The only thing that would remain of the man was the memory of a toothy tough rising up to shake the hand of the recruiting officer less than one year before.

Captain Thomas Harold Broad

Captain Thomas Harold Broad

Born: Feb 4th, 1895

Killed in Action – Sept 17th, 1918 at Guemappe, France

Buried at Monchy British Cemetery, Monchy-le-Preux

Stories abound in the annuls of Great War history of demonstrations of bravery, courage and sacrifice. Yet, when one digs a little deeper into the lives of the men they uncover stories of phenomenal success and personal achievement. The short life of Thomas Harold Broad is one of those wonderfully tragic stories.

Thomas Broad was born in the seaside town of Tintagel, Cornwall England. (while unrelated, legend relates that Authur, King of the Britons was conceived in the town of Tintagel. Not that he ruled from there, but was actually conceived in the town. Worthy of being placed on the sign denoting the entrance to a town fmho) Thomas’ family emigrated to Calgary, Alberta in 1908. By the outbreak of war, Thomas was 18 years old and worked as a cashier. This shows that 104 years may have passed but the first job of a young person hasn’t really changed much. In the summer of 1916, he enlisted with the 137th Calgary Battalion and assumed the role as Lieutenant.

The battalion proceeded to England in July of 1916 where they were transferred to the 2nd Reserve Battalion upon arrival. Thomas was transferred to the 116th on Feb 2, 1917 to coincide when the battalion was ordered to the continent. Thomas’ first exposure to the horrors of warfare was at Vimy Ridge. Like many of other former cashiers, the shock of death, destruction and misery dramatically impacted many of the newly arrived soldiers. He was treated for Trench Fever, later recognized as Shell Shock, that sidelined him for a month before being able to return to his men.

In the next year the battalion’s mettle was tested at the raid at Avion/Fosse, Hill 70 and Passchendaele. They then spent a significant amount of time in the first half of 1918 training and preparing for their planned major assault on the Germans. It was during this time that Lieutenant Thomas Broad was promoted to Captain and then after successfully completing courses in England, to the Intelligence Officer for the battalion. As a 22 yr old man, he had quickly improved his leadership skills, improved his position within the battalion and would have been a valued member of the 116th leadership team. These are fantastic achievements for a former store cashier.

Captain Broad’s brilliant run came to a tragic end suddenly on the 17th of September of 1918. Along with the other Canadian units, the 116th were the sharp end of the spear breaking through Amiens on Aug 8th and rapidly compiling wins and gaining territory. On that morning when the battalion was positioned near the town of Guemappe, France German artillery shells zoned in on their camp. While rushing to help men injured in the first volley, including the battalion Lieutenant Colonel, Captain Thomas Broad was killed in a follow-up series of 5.9s. His loss dealt a significant blow to the battalion, losing a rapidly advancing leader and the just appointed Intelligence Officer.

Lest we forget.

Private Fred Lorenza Miller

Private Fred Lorenza Miller

249286

Born – Simcoe, Ontario

Killed in Action – Bois de Sart, Boiry Notre-Dame-Aug 27, 1918

Some soldiers of the great war had cool jobs before entering the service and others had really, really cool jobs. To best understand the men who served and gave our country their ultimate sacrifice, one needs to dig deep to appreciate their lives before the war. It matters. It counted when they queued up on the day they enlisted in the local battalion. It certainly came up when they introduced themselves to each other….small chat on the boat ride over from Canada to England, more friendly chit chat at the confectionary, a conversation or two over a pint of beer on an off day at training or late nights on patrol with a battalion mate. “So, what did you do before the war?” The responses would be as varied as the answer to where they called their hometown. “Worked on the railway…raised cattle with my old man…banker…am a school teacher…” Private Fred Lorenza Miller of Toronto ON had the coolest answer…”I sold Ice Cream.”

We often do not appreciate the wonderful and conveniences advances that have been made just in the last century. For all of time…up until the 1940’s ice for home and business use came from a lake. In the winter the lakes would freeze over and after a nice long cold spell, blocks of ice would be cut and stored for use throughout the remainder of the year. Fred Miller worked for one of Toronto’s largest Ice proprietors…Bell Ewart Ice Company. His employer cut blocks of ice out of Grenadier Pond in High Park and it was used by Torontonians throughout the year to cool down their drinks or help keep their disposables a bit longer. Thus…one can imagine that Fred might have used the best ice breaker when he started new conversations with the new men he met while serving overseas and talking about his former job.

While he probably didn’t know it at the time, Fred and his family also lived in what would become one of Toronto’s most prestigious addresses. He lived on Toronto’s Yorkville Avenue…a street where today one would more than likely bump into the socially elite of society than a hardscrabble great war soldier. From his blue-collar worker background, at the age of 26 he decided to follow the herd (friends and co-workers) and enlist for the war. Miller began his service with the 208th Irish Canadians. They were a Toronto-based battalion that was affiliated with the 2nd Battalion, the Irish Regiment of Canada.

Miller enlisted on April 7th, 1916, trained at Camp Borden throughout the remainder of 1916/1917 and on May 3rd departed for England on the SS Justica. It took almost another full year of training in England before he would join the fray. On Feb 16, 1918 he was transferred to the 116th Battalion and accompanied the men already over in France. Soon after, the Germans would kick off their Spring Offensive which was primarily focused on the sector of trenches to the east of the Canadians. Our boys were in the Arras sector. Meanwhile, the 116th spent the spring and summer manning the trenches, training the men and ramping up their manpower and resources in preparation for the big push planned for the fall.

Private Miller received bis baptism of fire along with the majority of the men now serving in the 116th at Amiens on Aug 8th. By this time, the war had evolved from one of attrition and stagnation to attrition and movement. The seemingly daily arrivals of new recruits from Canada (via England) represented the fuel the allies needed to power their war machine. From Amiens, the 116th were moved to an area east of Arras and Monchy. They were assigned the task of taking Boiry Notre dame and Artillery Hill. These represented two objectives situated to the east of Bois du Sart and beyond Bois du Vert…both protected by a network of German trenches. The series of objectives needed to be taken to brake the final section of the Hindenburg Line still in the hands of the Germans.

4:55 am August 27th. Darkness still clouded the front between the Canadians and the entrenched Germans. The men did not have much time at all to prepare. The war of constant movement had changed the nature of warfare. The men were now just tools to mop up after the combined forces of artillery, airpower and tanks. Yet, as the human body had always been no match for shards and bits of flying iron this would again prove to be a weak spot when the whistles blew that fateful morning. The artillery barraged the German trenches. Air superiority enabled the RAF to strategically bomb vulnerable positions and the new weapon, the tank, slowly crawled across the battlefield. Meanwhile, almost instantly in climbing atop the parapet on the attack on Bois du Sart, Private Frederick Miller was cut down by a hail of gunfire spat out by the entrenched German gunners. He and 60 other men from the 116th that day did not stand for roll call the next morning. The 116th lost 8% of their troop strength that day. A most tragic day for the battalion and for the family of Private Frederick Lorenza Miller.

May he rest in peace.

Private William Alfred Brown

Private William Alfred Brown

868201

Born 1898, London England

Killed in Action Sept 4, 1918

Interred at TERLINCTHUN BRITISH CEMETERY, WIMILLE

“Stretcher Bearer!”

With one final brilliant dash, William followed his Lance Corporal on the attack on Boiry. The approach to the town was protected with a series of machine gun nests that were quickly set up with the raising of our guns. The men leaned into the blizzard undeterred by the torrent. The one by one, the men around him fell to the ground. A new cutting blast of lead would be emitted each time they appeared from the protections of a shell hole in the attempt to reach another. Eventually it was his turn. Like a hard right to his head, one bullet found its’ target. Tumble. Private Brown was down.

It would seem like hours passed by as lay out there. Prone out in the grass, meandering from light to dark. Watching. Waiting. But still alive and still hearing the sounds of combat as they receded into the distance. Waves of fear washed over him but then thankfully and suddenly help arrived. Stretcher bearers came to save him and bring back to the waiting ambulances. Stunned by the shock of being hit, did not overcome the realization that a greater challenge lay ahead. The bullet that entered his neck embedded itself into his spine. The year was 1918, and while the advances in medical care were significant, his prospect for mobility, let alone survival itself, were low and proved daunting for the lad.

A little over two years prior, the soldier was just William Alfred Brown. The 17 yr old boy was still but a boy. In such a short time, the young man had overcome so many challenges, more than enough to prepare him for adulthood. At the age of 14, just a few years prior William was sent to Dr Barnardos Home for British Children. It is not known who made this act of compassion and hope, however the only person on his next of kin was a sister in London. London, especially his district of Haggerston in London, was a tough, unforgiving place. Being poor and without support, his chance of living a full life was quite limited, thus the chance to be sent overseas to work on a farm was at least a chance. The children sent to Canada by Dr. Barnardos Homes were essentially indentured servants, obligated to work for free until they paid off their food, board and transportation costs. However, this chance was cut short with the announcement of war. Despite only being able to spend a few years in Canada working on a farm near the small lakeside village of Beaverton, Ontario a new opportunity was presented to him. Officers from the 182nd Battalion, reached out to local lads urging them to enlist and when presented William jumped at the chance. Maybe it was a little homesickness and the fact that he missed his sister still back in London. Either way, the underaged, 5 ft 2 boy was now a soldier in the 182nd Battalion.

With incredible rapidity, William found himself attaching his name to the Attestation Form on May 1st, 1916 in Beaverton then finding himself watching the docks of Liverpool quickly approach only 13 days later. In a series of transfers, he was sent to the 3rd Reserve battalion, then the 208th Canadian Irish for training. 8 months thereafter, Private Brown and a number of his battalion mates were sent along with a new draft to the 116th. The battalion needed more men after a catastrophic number of casualties were inflicted on it after Vimy, Hill 70 and Passchendaele. However, the waves of drafts would continue unabated with the 116th assembling a full component of soldiers for the planned fall assault on the Germans. This last push would prove to be a most deadly challenge for the 116th. Following a successful kick-off at Amiens on the 8th of August, the battalion moved onto the areas east of Arras and was ordered to take the town of Boiry-Notre-Dame. It was during this attack where the young private was hit.

For eight long days and nights, Private William Alfred Brown battled to survive. He was being cared for at the hospital at Bologne. However, the injuries proved to be too severe and he descended into a long downward spiral. There would be no recovery for the unfortunate young man with him dying of wounds on September 4th, 1918. His was another life of promise and opportunity cut short by the war.

Lest we forget.

Lance Corporal Darcy Jardine Reynolds

Lance Corporal D’Arcey Jardine Reynolds

644838

Born 1890 at Orr Lake, Simcoe ON

Killed in Action on Aug 28, 1918 Boiry, Notre-Dame

One wonders about the nature of his life before he elected to travel that short distance to wind up in the town of Midland. Life was simpler back then. Safer. A time when finding a locked door would be quite rare. To the contrary, people looked out for each other. Rural communities, especially, acted together to help police themselves. Everyone was their brother’s (or sisters’) keeper. Yet, as it tended to happen then as it does today, if a ruffian happened to get into the sauce and started to upend the odd table in the local public house there was still a need for someone to enforce the peace. And thus, in 1916, the person they would call was the now Midland-native, 5 ft 10 ¾ in, 200 lbs barrel-chested Police Officer D’Arcey Jardine Reynolds.

His size and character would have been known and noted within town. He would have been the one the town looked up to (so to speak) and respected. He would also be one person they would expect to feel a sorry presumed loss when word was out that a battalion was being raised in the region. At this time, the 157th Foresters was being raised out of Midland, Ontario and on the 15th of February, 26 yr old D’Arcey Reynolds would put pen to paper and sign up.

Once part of the Simcoe Foresters, they would take advantage of his policing background and have him act as an MP on Base Borden. Not long later he departed with the men in October of that year and arrived in England on the 28th. Like a number of Foresters, he was transferred to the 116th in early December and travelled to France with the battalion on the 11th of February. The adage ‘once a cop, always a cop’ proved true, once again, as he was sent to a course on Divisional Police services two months since joining the team in France. From the significant number of infractions amongst his soldier brethren, like the occasional instance of a OR being AWOL, the ubiquitous ‘drunk on duty’ citation or disobeying the commands of a senior officer. There was definitely a need for more police officers in the army. However, instead of acting as an MP they do show that he accepted the role as a Lance Corporal with the 116th in November of 1917.

The role of a Lance Corporal was the equivalent of a team leader. His role was to lead a squad of 8 men and successfully achieve the tasks assigned to them in the field. While he typically spent his time working and living alongside his brethren, namely ordinary private soldiers, when the unit was asked to perform certain tasks his job was to lead them in achieving the tasks. After being promoted to Lance Corporal after Passchendaele, D’Arcey would have spent the winter and spring training with the men readying themselves to act as the tip of the spear.

The 116ths, as a part of the 9th Regiment and alongside the other battalions of the 3rd Canadian Division was moved to an area east of Arras following the successful operations at Amiens. On August 27th, 1918 they were assigned to take the town of Boiry-Notre-Dame. This was town was situated approximately 14kms to the East of Arras. Following a massive barrage that kicked off at 4:55am on the 27th, the men spent the majority of the day shuffling from shell hole to shell hole in a long approach to take out the German units protecting the town. As the war has transitioned to one of trench warfare to one of movement, the men would rely upon the shell holes created by the massive bombardments for well-needed protection. This was needed as the Germans were well dug in and blanketed all approaches with a withering array of machine gun fire.

Step by step, hole by hole, the men drew closer and closer. After resting on the evening of the 27th the men made every attempt to remove the wounded from the field. However, they moved on and positioned themselves for the final blow. At 11am on morning on the 28th the Canadians’ unleased another devastating artillery barrage on the German positions. This allowed the men to move within sight of the town and the distinctive church steeple that had yet to be ‘removed’. It was in the final moment of the attack, when the men were just about to take the last defensive positions of the Germans’ protecting the town when it happened. Lance Corporal Reynolds had just led his team in overtaking the final objective when an artillery shell burst above him. Like that, the policeman from Barrie, the 27 yr old young man was made another casualty of the war. He, along with 41 other men from the 116th and 5,800 men from the CEF would fall in the attempt to clear the region and take the town.

Lest we forget.

Corporal Frederick Daniells

Corporal Frederick Bernard Daniells

681305

Born: 1895 Manchester, England

Lived in Toronto, ON

Killed in Action June 18, 1917 – Vimy Sector

It must have been the dilemma of a lifetime. Viewed from the lens of 2021, it would be expected that he would, just simply, stand down. Maybe that perspective is blurred by contemporary societal expectations. If tragedy struck a soldier’s family today it would most certainly result in the branch of the Army of which he served giving him (or her) one option…they would be expected and urged to stay home and look after their child. However, in the year 1916 when war was raging in France and Belgium societal expectations were different. It was expected that all men of military age serve…to fight and risk their lives to protect those left back at home, including their own children. Thus, on the eve of departing to France, one man, Manchester-born, Tilsbury native Frederick Bernard Daniells was saddled with making the hardest decision a man, a father could ever make.

It was that same summer in 1916 when tragedy struck his family. While out shopping with her son Douglass, and whilst certainly masking her pain and illness, Frederick’s wife Annie with all the suddenness that one can imagine…died. I imagine there is an even more complicated story behind it, however the diagnosis concluded that she died of syphilitic meningitis. This left the 37 yr old soldier, a rising star in the 170th Battalion with an arduous decision. The Private who was quickly promoted to Corporal and then to Sergeant was also a father…father of a ten year old boy.

Frederick was a father in an age where the mother stayed home and raised the children while the father went to work to make it so. Frederick and his wife Annie emigrated from England to Canada to give their son a chance at growing up in a place far from the congested, polluted, harsh confines of their industrial hometown of Manchester England. The family settled in the quaint town of Tilbury Ontario. This was about as opposite one can get from their former setting. Frederick rose to become a foreman at the F.S. Carr Rubber Company, an organization that manufactured fittings for the growing automobile manufacturing industry. With the success he was able to attain, he elected to move his family Toronto. However, soon after, the first decision of many difficult ones had to be made. Having a background in military service from the 2 years he spent with the 4th Manchester Battalion prior to emigrating to Canada, made the decision rather straightforward. Hence, in February of 1916 he enlisted with the 170th Mississauga Horse Battalion.

With the sudden death of his wife and mother of his son, Daniells was left with a most challenging decision. With no apparent family in Canada at the time, his ultimate decision would be considered unthinkable today. He placed his son, Douglass Bernard in an orphanage so he could go off to war. Daniels choose to maintain his commitment to king and country and asked the Oddfellows Orphanage to look after his son and give him a safe, loving home until he returned from the war. If.

In the short time prior to leaving, in October of 1916 Sergeant Daniells would be given one final leave. One final chance to give his boy a hug. One last time to hold him in his arms. On Oct 25th, he set off to England with the battalion. Upon arrival in England, his unit was absorbed into the other Toronto-based battalion, the 169th. Members of the 169th were then broken up with some being absorbed into the 116th. Daniels joined the 116th on Jan 25th 1917.

During the month of May and June, the 116th would go back and forth from manning quiet areas of the Vimy Ridge trenches to the rear where they conducted an intensive degree of training. It was late in the evening on June 18th after 5 days serving in the front-line trenches when Daniells platoon received word that they were being relieved. Men from the 4th Canadian Mounted Rifles arrived marking the time when Corporal Daniells could lead him men to the trenches in the rear. It was during this transition when another random inbound chunk of iron from the sky exploded in the wrong place at the wrong time. Out of the platoon of men, one jagged scrap hit Daniells in the head…killing him instantly.

Which leads us to the young orphan, Douglass Bernard Daniells…what happened to him? My research on his life and experiences are yet to be completed…however I was able to confirm that he went back and forth to England three times in his early twenties. He took up a career as a bookkeeper and appeared to get married in 1930. There was the chance that he himself became a father. Yet, as one contemplates the memory that Douglass might have had of his father they need to consider the prospect of hope. Hope that he eventually came to understand why he made that decision…the most difficult decision that any father could ever make. This, on this Father’s Day weekend, I am hopeful that if he every felt any animosity towards his dad that he came to forgive him. And I am more hopeful that he grew up proud of his old man. Proud that his dad fought and died for his freedom. Proud that he kept his promise…to give him a better life and a chance to be as successful as he could possible be.

Happy Father’s Day Frederick! You did your best…and thank you for keeping your promise.

Lieutenant James Ignatius McCorkell

Lieutenant James Ignatius Joachim McCorkell

Born: Utney, ON

Died: Aug 12, 1918

Buried at Bouchoir New British Cemetery, Le Quesnel, France

Oh, the indomitable exuberance of youth. Their wide-eyed idealism is not only infectious but stubbornly resolute…especially to their more worldly, experienced elders. James McCorkell was one of those spirited young men. Born in Utney, ON, a mere crossing of roads situated southeast of Orillia, he grew up as an engaged and active young man. Taking to educating himself in the discipline of education, James, at the tender age of 18, became a school-teacher and worked in several schools in and around the area.

In the fall of 1915, as Canada was beginning to ramp up its’ recruitment drive, James signed up as a Lieutenant with the 116th Battalion. As a part of the officer corps, James was found to be an effective recruiter and was deployed to convince area men to sign up and join his boss, Sam Sharpe’s team. One can imagine watching this barely adult man, engaged, energetic idealist and proudly showing off his lieutenant stripes stand before crowds pf people at churches and community centers to promote the importance of duty, sacrifice and service. He was found to be so good at this job, that the Lt. Col asked him to help lead a second recruitment drive for the follow-up to the 116th, the 182nd when it was being raised.

In his history of his service in the Great War, James was sent overseas with the 182nd in May of 1917. Throughout 1917 up until February of 1918, he was stationed in England with the 2nd Reserve Battalion followed by the 3rd Reserve Battalion. Finally, he was given the opportunity to join the campaign when he was sent to France and transferred to the 116th.

James McCorkell’s story came to an end just after August 8th and the storied battle of Amiens. In this action the 116th broke out alongside their fellow Canadian countrymen and helped kick off Canada’s 100 Days. The battalion was situated just east of Amiens at Bois de Gentelles. With this final push, the war transitioned from one of stagnation to one of movement. Every day the 116th moved further and further east pushing back the Germans as they advanced. By the evening of the 12th they were positioned to capture a section known as Middle Wood located near the town of Le Quesnel. Lt McCorkell ventured out with an NCO to establish communication with the unit on their right when tragedy stuck. An enemy shell zeroed in on him killing him instantly. 14 other men from the 116th fell that day, some whose remains are interred at Bouchoir New British Cemetery and a number whose remains were never recovered. The enthusiastic, promising leader was missed by his just married wife, his battalion, his community and the students he left behind.

Lest we forget.

Totally irrelevant note: If you find yourself lost while driving around rural Ontario and somehow stumble into James hometown of Utney, they have a wonderful little roadside chippy that sells the tastiest homemade jam. Yum Yum!

Private William John Cousins

Private William John Cousins

775467

Born 1880, Brampton, ON

Killed in Action at Le Quesnel on Aug 12, 1918

Commemorated on Vimy Ridge Memorial

On a day as fine as St. Patrick’s Day one must scout the databases to identify a man to recognize for his courage, his adventure, his repeated stumbling into misfortune and for his love of the aqua vitae.

When looking to recruit the bravest men to lead a battalion, one should scour the city, towns and neighbourhoods looking for the right type of man. Young, tall, broad and blonde…the perfect attributes for a soldier. Then there was William John Cousins…older at 35 years old, shortish at 5’4, blonde and to top it off, there is no better training for war than to enlist…an unmarried florist from Brampton. Yet, that was exactly what William John Cousins was.

He joined up with the 126th Peel Battalion in January of 1916. The battalion signed him right up and sent him overseas later that summer. After being transferred to the 116th in October, his next adventure was perfectly timed for April 1st, 1917. It was on this date when on battalion parade at Houdain whilst the men were practicing an attack with live grenades, poor Pte. Cousins was injured. He received wounds to his left shoulder and left buttock. Not the best way to spend April Fools Day.

Cousins rejoined the unit a month later. He may have made it through the attack in Vimy Ridge, but couldn’t make it through a parade with his battalion. He then survived the raid at Fosse 4 at Avion followed by the attack on Hill 70, but was unable to make it unscathed after fiddling with his grenade rifle. On August 26th, while removing a grenade from a rifle, the said grenade exploded exploding his left hand. While suspicious in nature, he was found not negligent in a Court of Inquiry for trying to purposely injure himself.

How does one medicate themselves and heal from all these unfortunate injuries? From a keen view of his service record, it appears that he was found drunk by his senior officers three times in 1916 up until his deployment. He picked up his penchant for the beverage when he returned to the battalion. The first time he got caught, he was given 7 days Field Punishment. Three weeks later he accepted his licks with another 14 days Field Punishment. To reward him for his wounds and his fine skills at locating the bottom of a bottle he was granted 14 days leave to the U.K. Upon return, he went for the trifecta and after being found drunk on duty the third time in a few months, he was rewarded with 28 days Field Punishment.

A sympathetic mind can acknowledge that Private Cousins was actually seriously wounded. His body and mind were slowly being killed by the war. And at every chance, the poor soul sought refuge. Unfortunately, alcohol would provide him with only temporary solace. Yet, he managed to at least avoid getting caught for the next 6 months. I guess that was a positive. However, it was on the 12th of August, 4 days after the start of the Big Push when Private William John Cousins was instantly killed by a sniper bullet during the company’s withdrawal from Middle Wood at Le Quesnel. A sudden and unfortunate end for a man suffering from the unseen pressures of war.

Lest we forget.

Lieutenant Vernon Cuthburt Lick

Lieutenant Vernon Cuthburt Lick

Born West Oxford/Embro, ON 1895

Died July 23, 1917  Fosse 4 Raid at Avion, France

Buried at Ecoivres Military Cemetery, Mont St Eloi

For the past five months they were just allowed to watch.  Meanwhile, other battalions would get the nod to lead each attack.  From Vimy to Scarpe to Second Scarpe, Arleux, Fresnoy (aka Third Scarpe) and then Avion they were told to sit back, watch and learn.  The 116th would be placed in reserve, on the flanks or were positioned far back from the fighting and be seen marching back and forth in the parade grounds. Just another round of training for the boys of the 116th.  They had not earned the confidence of the top brass that they could lead an attack.  The 116th Battalion was one of the newest battalions to joint the fray and was manned by raw recruits whilst their counterparts in other battalions were lead by veterans.  The 116th came with just too much risk. 

This would all change in July of 1917.  The affair they were tasked to lead was minor in comparison to the larger divisional operations that included a number of battalions operating in a detailed, coordinated fashion.  In this task, the 116th was asked to conduct a raid. When the concept of a raid is considered, my mind conjures up a squad of men or two crawling across no-man’s land at night…sneaking through shell holes, navigating cuts in the barbed wire before the reach the enemy trenches….hopefully undetected…then bounding from the top of the parapet, jabbing a couple Huns, grabbing a few others before trying their best to make it back before being pilloried with a stream of lead belched by an alert machine gunner.  But this one would be different…this raid would be much larger.  Over 800 men, 4 companies going over the top all at once. 

On July 23rd, 1917 one of the men who would be asked to lead the raid was Lieutenant Vernon Cuthburt Lick.  Like many of his peers, Vernon was a soldier before he became a soldier.  The Embro, Ontario native would start his military career by serving 3 years with the Cadet Corps before joining up with the 22nd Regiment “Oxford Rifles”.  It would come as no surprise that when the waves of war rushed over Canada, the now 21 yr old would enlist for the cause.  He signed up with the Woodstock raised Oxfords, the 168th Battalion, move over to the 173rd, train in England with the 2nd Reserve Battalion and on the eve of Vimy Ridge would be sent to France to join the 116th. 

The job of a Lieutenant was rather straightforward…he was tasked to lead men in war.  The definitive word in this statement is “lead”.  His own training would begin with understanding what makes a soldier and how he needs to mould others into becoming effective tools in the art of military warfare.  His task was to transition farmers, bank clerks, school-teachers and carpenters into fit, resilient, disciplined, expert soldiers.  Thus, upon joining the 116th on March 20th, 1917 he would be tasked with the critical role of turning these civilians into weapons of war. 

From their arrival in France in early February, much of their time was spent in training.  Under the leadership of a Captain, the Lieutenant was accountable for a platoon of approximately 50 men.  With the support of his NCO’s (Sergeants, Corporals) he needed to teach these men how to fight.  How to use the weapons…from mills bombs to bayonets.  He needed to teach the men how to operate as a team, as a fully functioning independent unit.  He needed to earn their respect, gain their trust and win their support.  Most importantly, when leading men in war he needed to do so my following the operative definition of the word…by being the first.  The first out of the trenches.  The first across the battlefield.  The first to the objective.  He needed to lead. 

On the 23rd of July, Lieutenant Vernon Cuthburt Lick was put in command of “D” Company.  As the clock struck one and the whistles blew, “A”, “B” and “C” Companies followed the creeping barrage across the theatres of this midnight raid.  Lick was put in charge of Company “D”, the Reserve Company.  As soon as the other Companies either achieved their objectives or were called upon for support, it was Lick’s job to rush to their raid and support.  As the men from the other companies rushed across the battlefield and took on the Germans, Lick stood by his men, watched and waited.  His men patiently, in the midst of a torrent,  waited and watched Lick…watched and waited for him to give them orders. 

The expectation was for Lt. Lick to lead his men forward at daybreak. With the sun lightening the blurred edge of the horizon, Lick prepared his men.  And yet…like a sprinter stumbling out of the blocks at 4:45am Lick’s position was hit.  An artillery shell killed him instantly and wounded his Sergeants and Corporals.  The men he chose to lead the boys in their first, most significant baptism of fire in France were wiped out in an instant. Others would take their place and lead the men in support but to the men in “D” Company they didn’t only lose a Lieutenant, they lost a man who had earned their trust. 

Lest we forget.

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.

Corporal Earlby Gordon Shannon

Corporal Earlby Gordon Shannon

868015

Born 1896 Islington, ON

Killed in Action, Aug 8th, 1918 at Amiens

At the tender age of 20, for Earlby Shannon it appeared that all the cards were falling in place for him. He recently graduated from Humberside Collegiate (located just north of High Park in central Etobicoke/Toronto) Humberside Collegiate. Right out of high school he landed a job as a banker at the Union Bank (now RBC). To top it off he was in the service of his country with the 12th York Rangers. A bright future awaited the young lad. Then...as the war reached out and touched every town and village in Canada, it reached out and touched young Earlby. On Feb 25th, 1916 he travelled out to Whitby to put his name to paper and enlist in Lt. Col Cockburn’s newly formed 182nd Battalion.

While he did enlist as a Private when he joined the 182nd, his sights were set on a leadership position in the Canadian military. This was represented by him passing the qualification exam to earn his stripes as a Lieutenant (Oct 28th, 1916). However, possibly due to glut of officers, it can be surmised that Earlby elected to forgo seeking out the commission. He did, however, get promoted to Acting Sergeant directly before the men departed for England. Upon arrival in England, Sergeant Shannon was transferred between the 3rd Reserve Battalion and then the 208th Irish Canadians. Once again, he reverted to his permanent grade of Private. Earlby was then moved to the 116th in February of 1918 as a draft of new men were integrated into the 116th already training in France.

As the Battalion readied itself for the impending Big Push planned for later that summer, Shannon was promoted to Corporal. As evidence of the evolution in military warfare and battlefield tactics, his new role would be to lead a diversified group of specialists in the impending attacks. The next major attack would be at Amiens where his leadership skills and ultimately his life would be put to the test.

On the morning of August 8th, 1916, the 116th emerged from their protective positions in the trenches and behind a massive artillery bombardment executed the transition to open warfare. The 116th’s orders were to proceed on a front of about 1000 yards starting around the Village of Hourges and take as much as they can get….5000 yards of territory was expected, but nothing was stopping them from taking more if they could. It was early in to his thrust, just south of the town of Demuin and east of Hourges when the young stalwart Corporal was wounded by German shellfire. He would succumb to his wounds later that day and his remains were buried at Hourges Orchard Cemetery alongside 134 of his countrymen who also fell that day.

Lest we forget

Private Frederick Bentley

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.

Captain Walter Earlin Shier

Captain Walter Earlin Shier

116th Canadian Infantry Battalion

Born: Leaskdale, Ontario

Died Toronto ON – March 5, 1946

I have driven passed it countless times. It is situated on the side of the road just about half-way to my family cottage. One should not be forgiven for never giving it an ounce of attention as they speed by. Why so? You may ask. Well, in the middle of virtually nowhere (my apologies to the lovely nearby hamlet of Leaskdale) stands a monument that was constructed through the inspiration of a man who had recently visited the Taj Mahal. As the Taj Mahal was built in the year 1632 as a tomb for the favourite wife of Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan, so was the Thomas Foster Memorial built as a final resting spot of his wife Elizabeth. It is a most impressive monument and it was not until I began to investigate the men of the 116th Battalion where I decided to make a stop.

I wandered up and down and between the rows looking for the ever so familiar shaped grave marker. I have seen them many times before. I have walked among thousands of them at Tyne Cot. I also saw them at Sainte Olle, Vimy, at Caen and across the peninsula at Gallipoli. In the past month or so I have searched for them in cemeteries across Southern Ontario. Hamilton, Pickering, Bolton, Cannington and Georgetown. With one or two children in tow, I have made the effort to find the men of the 116th…and on Monday May 24th I found one. Standing proudly and facing to the east, in the final row of stones was the final resting spot of Captain Walter Earlin Shier, officer of the 116th Canadian Infantry Battalion.

In the spring of 1915, Lt Col. Sam Sharpe was given the approval and authority to raise a battalion. One of the first tasks was to sign up the men who would form his leadership team. Being a former Major in the 34th Regiment, he sought to reach out to his former regiment mates and ask them to join up. Shier was one of the men that Sharpe reached out to. He was a local lad…born and bred just a few miles up the road from Uxbridge. And thus, on Jan 23rd, 1916 Walter Earlin Shier joined up as a Lieutenant in the new fledgling battalion.

The Shier’s were a prominent family from the town of Leaskdale. They produced a number of soldiers who served in the Great War and included two from the area who fell in combat. Walter’s cousin Herman Edgar Shier from nearby Pefferlaw who fell at Sainte Olle on Sept 29, 1918. His other cousin, Second Lieutenant Morley Roy Shier was killed on Sept 8th, 1918 while serving with the Royal Flying Corp. Morley and Walter were only a year apart and would have spent their early years growing up together in town. Another cousin, Norman James Waddell of Sutherland was killed on the Somme on Oct 8th, 1916.

Starting his service as a Lieutenant, he was quickly promoted to Captain in the 116th Battalion, however in as he was based in England for the Spring of 1917 he did not join the battalion in the field until July 1917. At this time, he reverted to the original rank of Lieutenant and served alongside the men through Fosse 4 at Avion, Hill 70 and Passhchendale. After this long slog, he was given the opportunity to be transferred to the United States in January of 1918. With the US Army rapidly recruiting, organizing and training their men for overseas service, it was Walter’s job to help train the men in the use and tactics of the art of bayonetery. (note: I made that word up). Following upon the real-life experiences of his own and his men’s time in combat, Shier would teach the cocky, eager Yanks how to gut a potato sack with a 16 inch blade.

As I spent a few moments providing Walter with a rare visit and a bit of seldom seen company, I noticed that he died at the young age of 52. After 7 months in hospital the Great War vet succumbed to a combination of anemia and Pott’s Disease. The details behind his condition are not readily available and thus I cannot determine if his early death was influenced to his experiences and exposures in France. However, being a person who can see the age of 52 from where I am standing, it is far too early an end to a man, father, husband and Great War hero.

Thank you for your service Walter…rest well…and see you soon.

Private Frederick Marshall

Private Frederick Marshall

644072 – Former member of 157th Simcoe Foresters

Born 1888 in Renfrew, ON

Lived at 123 Mississauga St. Orillia On

Killed in Action – May 21st, 1917 – Vimy Sector of Front

It was the evening of Oct 9th, 1916. The final refrain from the town band had long since ended and it was only silence that was heard as they walked hand in hand. Celestine, his vibrant young 22 year old bride-to-be, was by his side. With each step she would nudge herself closer, as if she was squeezing a few more minutes of her time with him. The walk to the station was relatively short being only a mile away. And correspondingly, she too hoped that their separation would also be short. The couple was returning from the gathering held in their honour down at Couchiching Park. ‘Their’ being the local men from the 157th Battalion. The town had gathered to thank their boys for their service, wish them luck and shower them with support. These last few minutes were the final few on the final day of their last leave before the men departed for England and France.

It seemed like the entire town had come out to wish them well. 28 yr old Private Frederick Marshall looked out and recognized so many of the faces. Many were his clients. Frederick worked as a blacksmith in town. As this was 1916, most of the farmers and townsfolks still used wagons pulled by horses as their primary mode of travel. Essentially, Frederick was their mechanic. He was the guy who made sure their form of personal transportation was safe and well maintained…even if that only meant a new horseshoe or a mended wagon wheel. Thus, smiling and waving back at him were neighbours, prominent businessmen, local farmers and politicians…all coming out to see him off. Clad in his khaki and proudly standing on the make-shift stage, Frederick would also recognize the looks and nervous senses of apprehension staring back at him.

This final leave only lasted 6 days. A blink of the eye for young couples in love…but the shortness of time would linger for decades in the memories of those who remained. The members of the battalion were granted the freedom to spend the last few precious moments together with their loved ones on the return to the station. Thus, with the excitement and positivity of the town gathering now dissipated the awareness that these men were going off to war…some never to return would finally sink in. Final kisses, handshakes and hugs were exchanged one last time. Another belch of black smoke from the engine signaled to the men to make their final goodbyes…and with waves from open windows, outstretched hands pressed against glass the men of the 157th set off from the Orillia train station.

The men of the 157th Simcoe and Foresters Battalion set off for England soon after and arrived in Liverpool on Oct 28th. Within a month the battalion that was raised from boys and men from communities dotting the Simcoe County region was broken up. Private Marshall and many of his battalion mates were now soldiers in Sam Sharpe’s 116th Battalion. From the training grounds at Witley and Bramshott to the trenches at Vimy, the boys were now officially in it. And hence, after making it through the recent victory on April 9th, Frederick spent his time in relatively quiet parts of the front…many days safely situated in the inherent protection of underground tunnels and bunkers. However, it not until their relief of the RCR on the 20th of May when they returned to the front. And one day later, once again the victim of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, the young fiancée of his blushing bride-to-be Celestine Briggs, the Frederick Marshall, the blacksmith from Orillia was killed in action.

He is forever interred at the Petit-Vimy British Cemetery in Vimy France.

Lest we forget.

- For more detail on the August 9th Orillia departure event, please refer to Fighting Men, Leslie Frost, Clark, Irwin & Company Limited, 1967; pg 79-80

- Interesting tidbit of information I cannot verify. Frederick Marshall worked as a blacksmith in Orillia. One of the Blacksmith shops that was in operation until 1911 was DG Carmichael Orillia Wagon and Sleigh Works. The son of David Carmichael was one of the founders of the Group of Seven, Franklin Carmichael. Thus, there was a good chance that Frederick and one of Canada’s most famous painters once worked together.

Private Lloyd Clair Park

Private Lloyd Clair Park

678203

Born - Smith Falls, ON

Killed in Action – Battle of Passchendale; Oct 27, 1917

They called it being ‘in reserve’. A safer place to be when you are facing the murderous abyss of a Great War battle? But the location of their reserve assignment was the exact same section in the sea of mud that the front-line soldiers were occupying. While the front lines lads had to ‘stand to’ thigh deep in the mess, the men of the 116th were tasked with hauling supplies up to them. That was the job of the men in reserve. Also, the front-line soldiers, in this case at Passchendale Ridge in the autumn of 1917, were the men from the 43rd and 58th Battalions. They were ordered to navigate the putrid, viscous hellscape and knock the other guys off the slight rise in the distance. But how? This battlefield was different from all others. It was composed of a virtual ocean of deep, life-sucking mud where the only way to move forward, backwards or in any direction was to walk on some wooden planks…in direct view of the enemy…and in range of their guns. The job of Private Lloyd Clair Park and his 116th Battalion mates was to haul up those planks.

The wooden devices as described were called duckboards. They were 8-10 foot lengths of wooden planks nailed together in such a fashion that they looked like a ladder. The duckboards were laid end-to-end atop of the mud. Without these devices, movement was impossible. More importantly, if a man happened to slip off one of these contraptions or dive off one of them into the mud to seek refuge from incoming artillery, escape was often futile. The men would simply and slowly disappear into the mud. Gone.

In the fall of 1917, the Canadians and Australians were given the task of taking this important ridge. The attack went off on Oct 24th and for the first three days…and nights, it was the job of the 116th to carry duckboards up to the front. Once installed, they then needed to be used for something to walk on while they carried ammunition and supplies to the men executing the attack. Meanwhile, at the end of this makeshift duckboard highway two armies mashed each other with constant shellfire until the terrain became the consistency of porridge. By the evening of the 26th, the 58th had lost 6 officers and 57 soldiers. Another 27 were declared ‘missing’…formal for ‘consumed by the earth’. The 43rd had an equally horrific three days. 36 men were killed and the bodies of another 66 could not be found. They also lost 3 officers. In total 162 souls were lost by these two battalions.

In the early morning hours of the 27th of October, after continuously hauling ammunition, supplies, duckboards and his ass back and forth for three days Private Lloyd Park joined his battalion-mates in relieving the decimated battalions. Park was only 21 years old. He was originally from Smith Falls, a small town situated south-west of Ottawa. His family decided to move to Toronto whereby Lloyd elected to pursue higher education following his graduation from high school. However, like many of his friends his education was cut short by the war. In early 1916 he enlisted with the 169th Battalion. After completing his basic training on Oct 26th he climbed aboard the SS Corsican and set off for England. Park was later transferred to the 3rd Labour Battalion before joining the 116th on Aug 22nd, 1917.

Park’s first days with the 116th saw him participate in the attack on Hill 70 at Lens. After he survived this baptism of fire, the unit proceeded onto Passchendale. It was here where the young fresh-faced Torontonian’s time serving in His Majesty’s Canadian Expeditionary Force would come to an end. After days slogging in the mud, back and forth, soaked, chilled to the bone and utterly and completely exhausted on the 27th of October he joined his battalion as they relieved the 43rd and 58th battalions. The last record of him details that he assumed sentry duty as the men assumed the trenches. That was the last of him. The last of Lloyd Park. He was hit by incoming shellfire. Nothing was left. Nothing save the memories of family and friends back home and a few letters denoting his name that were carved into a wall at a place called Menin Gate.

RIP Private Lloyd Clair Park

Lest we forget.

Private Sydney Pink

Private Sydney Pink

2537366

Born – Guilford, Surrey England

Lived in New York, New York

Killed in Action, Sept 29, 1918 in the approach on Cambrai at Raillencourt, Sainte Olle British Cemetery

He grew up in a town that was more medieval than modern. It was situated just southwest of London, and upon attaining the age of 20, he decided that bigger and brighter things were in store for him. The scene that followed is almost stereotypical. A fresh, faced young man…bursting with energy, passion and positivity, watched his home country fade into the distance as he set off to a new land. Then, a few days later he peered over the bow, and through the coastal mist when he saw it. Appearing out of nothingness, was the center of the universe, a mountain range of towers soaring into the sky…it was New York City. Disembarking from the vessel he was consumed by the sea of people and instantly became one of them.

From his sleepy origins, he soon found himself in the epicenter of the epicenter of civilizations. He lived and worked just a block away from Grand Central Station. Acting as a stewart in a hotel, stepping out in the streets he would be bombarded by sounds. Constant. A barrage of noises…never-ending traffic, the buzz of the masses, non-stop, by day, by night. Every corner would act as his virtual Twitter feed with information blasted at him by every direction. There was no way around it. From 1914 to 1915 to 1916 to 1917 he would know every circumstance in France, Belgium or even Russia and Turkey virtually as they happened. This was the age of information where Trans-Atlantic telegraphs could update the other side of the world moments after the event occurred….and all this information first arrived in New York City. It was understandable that a young, ex-pat like Sydney Pink would eventually come to the realization that after so much death and destruction his country needed him.

26 year old Sydney was a portly young man. Weighing in at 160 pounds and reaching the height of 5 ft 6, he was solid. In the spring of 1917, Sydney travelled to Toronto and enlisted with the 10th Regiment also known as the Royal Regiment of Canada. After basic training he proceeded to England and bounced around to the 2nd Reserve Battalion then the 8th Reserve Battalion before being transferred to the 116th in April 1918.

If you put yourself into the boots of young Private Pink, you can imagine the things the young man had seen. Guildford, England of his youth looked like it was still in the 1500s. Then moving to and living in Manhattan when it was the most exciting, celebrated metropolis on earth. Then suddenly finding himself on the edge of Armageddon…watching the most advanced civilizations on earth pounding another into mush. Life and death becoming essentially meaningless…man treated as nothing more precious than the odd bits of trash that nonchalantly get swept into a gutter. And with this perspective, being just one of the bits, he accepted his role, his duty, his need and proceeded forward.

On the 29th of September, after only 136 days serving in France, the stewart from New York City…the man who was more accustomed to refreshing your glass or replacing your napkin was tossed into the meat grinder. Rifle in hand and following the poor lad in front of him, Private Pink waded into the morass. On the approach to the village of Raillencourt on the way to Petit Fontaine, Sydney and his company wandered into a downpour of crisscrossing machine gun fire. They were virtually wiped out to a man. 74 men from the battalion were killed in the action and scores more left wounded, unable to continue. And as he lay wounded, dying the next Company from the 116th eliminated the gunners, merely bypassed the obstacle and moved on…leaving the remains of Private Sydney Pink and his battalion mates forever to rest in the French soil.

Lest we forget

Private Earnest Bowerbank and Private Jack Bowerbank

Ernest Albert Bowerbank

757268

Born Oakville Ontario 1885

Killed in Action – Boiry Notre-Dame Aug 28, 1918

Jack Telfer Bowerbank

757263

Born Oakville Ontario 1894

Killed in Action – Fosse raid at Avion – July 23, 1917

The pain is always delayed. When the guns fell silent on the 11th of November 1918 it took until the spring of 1919 before the boys made their way back home. Apart from the continuous transit of men and material from Canada to England and France, it took some time to get hundreds of thousands of soldiers onto the ocean passenger liners and safely back home. Thus, by the second Sunday in May in the year 1919, familiar faces only then started to reappear on the city streets of hometowns across the country. For those boys, despite the hardships, deep wounds, whether they be physical or psychological, they did their best to set them aside and just enjoy being in the loving comfort in the arms of their families…especially their moms.

When a son decides to enlist and follow his sense of duty by fighting for their country, the one person they most feared telling was their mother. Dad’s being men, often understand the overwhelming pressure and expectation that others put on them to enlist. They were young men once too. The mythical glory of war…the sound, the fury, the excitement…that was all shared by the dad as it was by the son. However, mothers are different. They see their son’s in the perspective of the little tot they nursed from a wee babe. They are the ones who held him close when he was scared, soothed him when he was crying and was usually the last one to tuck him into bed at night. Thus, when the topic was broached at the dinner table, her mind did not rush to glory.

On the morning of May 11th, 1919 many, many mothers looked upon it as the greatest day they could ever imagine. Their son had returned home. To thousands of others, Mother’s day was the worst day. On this day when as the early morning sun brightened the hallways of homes, they also illuminated the doors that lead to an empty bedroom. The rooms that remained it the exact same condition as it was when he left it years prior. Two years without one item moving. Clothes, still pressed, and placed inside the dresser awaiting the return of its’ owner. The bedsheets and covers remain undisturbed. A dog-eared copy of a comic sitting on the bedside table, its’ only movement being straightened and straightened again as she visited his room so many times almost as a ritual of remembrance.

This was the scene that Lydia Bowerbank woke to on the morning of Mother’s Day. She was not without comfort as her remaining children were there to cheer her up. Fresh flowers, a morning where she did not have to cook and clean for the household. But it was not the same. The dinner table at her household did not only have one empty chair. It had two. Ernest was her eldest son. At 34 year of age, he enlisted a month after his younger brother. It was almost as if he did so as a promise to his mother that he would look over the young lad. The other empty chair belonged to Jack. 23 year old Jack.

Both boys were born and grew up in Oakville Ontario. Their father Thomas was also born and bred Oakville native. Ernest made his living working as a brass spinner, with Jack working as a basket maker. The family had moved to 60 Oak Avenue in Hamilton, probably due to the greater opportunities that the industrial city provided to men looking for employment. In the late fall of 1915, both Bowerbank boys signed up with the 120th City of Hamilton Battalion. They were affiliated with the Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders. As was the case with the other battalions being raised at the time, following basic training they shipped off to England in the summer of 1916.

The history of both boys followed their training together with the 120th and their shared transfer to the 116th Battalion. The first telegram that Lydia received notifying her of the death of her son was following the trench raid in Avion, France on July 23rd, 1917 referred to the Fosse 4 raid. Young Jack was one of 37 men of the 116th to die on that dreadful day. She received the second telegram one month into the 100 Day Offensive. 34 year old Ernest was killed on August 28th, in the attack on Boiry-Notre-dame just east of Arras. 79 men from the 116th fell on that successful, but costly operation. The bodies of neither men were ever recovered and their names are both engraved in marble at the memorial at Vimy Ridge.

As we thank our mothers for the sacrifices they have made for us. For their selfless demonstrations of love and care. For the scrapes that she has wiped clean and the knees she has bandaged. We think back to the mothers who did not have a son to hug on May 11th, 1919. We think of Lydia and all the other Lydia’s who had both an empty bedroom to ponder. He look across the table in thanks that the seats are today occupied, knowing that others remained vacant in 1919. We think of the feeling of loss shared by the mothers and ,in turn, remember both Ernest and Jack Bowerbank and we thank them for their service and honour them for their sacrifice.

Lest we forget....and Happy Mother's Day

Private Albert Stronge

Private Albert Stronge

775564

Born: 1890 Farnworth, Bolton, Lancashire, England

Lived in Palgrave, Ontario

Enlisted with the 126th Peel Battalion, served with 116th

Killed in Action – May 21, 1917 Vimy Sector, France

The story of Private Albert Stronge

When someone who grew up in Canada reads that he was educated at Bolton Grammar School their mind immediately pictures a one or two room schoolhouse. The school would be located on the edge of a relatively remote farming community. Children from the local farms with their modest homesteads would travel great distances for their modest education. The mind images youngsters making the prototypical 5 km trek, through 2-3 feet deep snow, on a route that happened to require a long upwards climb interestingly on both on the walk to and from school. However, after a few minutes on the Google, one discovers that they can not be more wrong.

Being educated (not going to school) at Grammar school in Bolton, UK, was a bit different. He won a scholarship to and attended Farnsworth Grammar school in Bolton. He followed up his studies at both The Bolton School and Owen’s College. These buildings remind one more of Hogwarts than the dusty shack originally envisioned. Adorned with stately gated entrances and expansive well-groomed grounds, from the exterior his school would resemble a university campus. Once inside, everything would remind them of the appearances and purposeful countenance of the elite. The boys entering these institutions would emerge as well-educated and refined young men…expected to be the individuals the empire is relying upon to lead Britons into the next generation. This was the early life and expectation of one Albert Stronge.

At the age of 20, with his education completed, young Albert decided to make his life and fortune in the Commonwealth country of Canada. His destination would not be more alien to the life and circumstances he had become accustomed to. From a heavily congested and polluted metropolis to the sparsely populated farming community of Palgrave…a place that was accented by small town people with small town values. Tradition. Faith. Hard work and manual labour. It would have been quite the culture shock for the young man. However, he was well respected by the community and was duly missed when he decided at the age of 26 to enlist with the 126th Peel Battalion. Once again, the call of duty won the young man over.

The records suggest that he was able to secure a position as a scout with the 126th and trained for this role while at Camp Borden. The men proceeded to England in the summer and he was soon transferred to the 116th Battalion. Throughout the fall and winter, the men would train at Bramschott then Whitley before moving to France before the great operations at Vimy Ridge.

In early part of 1917, the 116th Battalion was primarily included as a reserve or support battalion. More time was spent with shovel in hand or hauling supplies than handling a weapon. Thus, like the others who came to share Albert’s unfortunate fate was not gained by a glorified dash across a crater filled battlefield while dodging a downpours of machine gun bullets. Rather their ultimate demise was more often attributed to the unfortunate circumstance of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The randomness of shellfire took the lives of many men on the Western Front. And on the 21st of May sometime while the men moved back into the line to relieve the Royal Canadian Regiment young Albert was hit. As random and purposeless as a death could be…another promising young life was snuffed out.

Today, two parish churches an ocean apart, share memorial plaques with this name on it. One, is in the St. Alban’s Church in his adopted home of Palgrave, located just down the road from Bolton Ontario. The other is at St. John’s Church, located in the community of his youth, Farnsworth…located just down the road from Bolton, UK. 104 years may have passed since his passing and still citizens from both communities, both located just outside of a town of the same name can together remember the loss of the one of their own, Private Albert Stronge.