Corporal Orren John Congdon

Corporal Orren John Congdon

116th Battalion CEF

745344

Born:    1893, Uxbridge, ON

Lived in Atherley, ON

Killed in Action – Raid at Avion, Fosse 4 July 23, 1917

Divisional Headquarters – Camblain D’Abbe

It was time. 

They found an empty room in the building and set down to conduct the solemn task.  ‘They’ consisted of only three individuals: the Commanding Officer of the battalion, his Adjutant and his assistant.  It was time.  The CO sat himself down on one of the chairs placing his cap on the desk occupying the centre of the room.  To the side was another small desk with a typewriter placed upon it.  The Adjutant’s Assistant sat behind it and readied a short stack of paper.  The Adjutant proceeded to open a couple of windows enabling the smoke from their cigarettes to intermix with the breeze of fresh air that wafted in, also helping cool down the overheated room.  Summers in France can be like that.  The Adjutant then proceeded to reach into his satchel and remove a well-worn package bound in leather.  Leafing through the pages contained withing, he searched for and retrieved a document.  It was the list. 

The Commanding Officer in question was Samuel Simpson Sharpe, the Lieutenant Colonel in command of the 116th Ontario County Battalion.  It was early August in the year 1917 and his battalion was enjoying their well deserved and needed rest away from the front line.  A little over a week or so, late in the evening of July 22nd the CO could be found wandering around no mans’ land near Avion.  He was trying to locate his men as they prepared for the battalion’s first real test of combat in the war.  Walking from platoon to platoon in the pitch black darkness, scuttling from jumping off zone to jumping off zone, he sought to check, recheck and check again that his men were ready to respond the call of the whistle.  While out there, he rearranged some of the tapes that were placed along the trench lines, guidelines installed to direct the men towards their objectives.  In his mind, Sharpe had to be 100 percent certain that his men were not only just prepared to achieve the objectives assigned to them but that they were given the best chance to make it back safely.  And yet despite his direct efforts, with one leg resting over the other, a freshly lit cigar awaiting his attention, he sat back, reflexively placed his hands on his face, gently rubbing his eyes, looked towards the assistant listening attentively nearby behind his typewriter and began…

“It is my painful duty that your son Cpl O J Congdon has been missing since and attack on German positions on the morning of July 23rd.”

The letter was being written to the mother and father of one of Sharpe’s NCOs, Corporal Orren John Congdon.  Orren was 23 yr of age and like many of the friends and neighbours of his age, when Sharpe sent a Lieutenant into his town to persuade local men to join the war effort, he responded, and on the 8th of November 1915 he put pen to paper and joined the new unit.  Born in Uxbridge to John and Annette, the family moved to a farm in the town of Atherley situated just outside the city of Orillia.  Congdon, was the eldest son in a family of five, with two younger sisters, Ida and Ruby. 

Sharpe started the letter by describing the circumstances which lead to the tragic news he was delivering, that their son, Orren was counted amongst the missing and presumed dead in the attack that took place early in the morning of July 23rd, 1917. 

He continued…”The battalion had received a special order to raid the German lines on a frontage of 600 yards to a depth of 400 yards.  There were two objectives and “A” Company under Captain Gould took the first objective and captured many prisoners. The other objective was taken by “B” and “C” companies under Capt. Allen and Major Currie respectively.  They reached their objectives and inflicted much loss on the enemy, bombed his dugouts and took many prisoners.  On the whole we captured  about sixty prisoners and the Battalion received complimentary messages from the Brigadier, the Divisional Commander and Corps Commander and the Commander-in-Chief, but these messages, I am afraid, offer small consolation to the fathers and mothers and relatives of those who has fallen, or who are missing. It was with exceeding regret that your son was among the missing.“

The content and composition of this letter provides compelling insights into the mindset of Sharpe as he sat in that room, dictating letters to the Assistant Adjutant and crossing off names on a list.  How he approached these letters and the messaging he used reveals so much about the man.  He was and wanted to be known as an officer commanding a battalion in war, but at the same time he was still a man of the people.  As a politician, he was interested in people, in their struggles and challenges.  He had a desire and drive to connect with them on a base level, to empathize with the issues they were passionate about and try as he may, to help them wherever he could.  In his opening paragraph, Sharpe looked to provide some context, meaning and value to the sacrifice of a son to the war.  He wanted the parents and siblings of Orren to know he did not die for nothing.  However, he also wanted them to know he was valued and appreciated, both by the men in the battalion but more importantly, by him personally…as his leader and commanding officer. 

He did this by trying to relay, as best he could, what the battalion’s orders were and how Orren may have been killed.  While providing some details and hints on the operations conducted that night, it does remain incomplete.  Orren was a member of B Company.  On that particular evening B Company was under the command of Capt. Allen.  A Company initiated the raid by rushing forth at the sound of the whistle and taking the front-line German trench called Metal Trench (see accompanying diagram of raid).  This trench was situated along the front of a huge slag heap (consisting of the detritus of mining operations).  Once the initial objective was complete by A Company, B and C Company was directed to rush forth, move to the sides and rear of the slag heap and attack the Germans protecting the Railway Embankment in the rear.  It was somewhere out beyond the sight of Battalion leadership where Congdon was killed. 

Sharpe then vectored to speak to the value of Orren as a soldier and as a contributing member of the battalion as a whole.  It was here where to sought to connect with the parents of the slain man and share in his unfortunate loss. 

“Orren was always bright and cheerful and was always an encouragement to the other men. He was never out of sorts but always cheerful under the most adverse conditions. Although he is marked missing, I cannot hold out any hope that he is alive. He was in a platoon with a son of a cousin of mine, Lieut Lennox who is a fine boy also.  They are missing together.  I have only one message for you, namely, that I am afraid they are both killed but there is a possibility that they have been wounded and are prisoners, but I am afraid that we shall never see the boys again.

Orren carried on in a manner that reflected great credit to him and on the unit to which he belonged.  He was popular in the battalion and his loss will be keenly felt.  On behalf of the officers, non-commissioned officers and men of the battalion I desire to convey to you our sincere sympathy in your loss. Please convey to all members and friends of the family our regret at the loss of such a splendid soldier. We hope that you will take comfort and solace in the consciousness that if he has died, he did in full duty to his King and country, and his loss will be an inspiration to those who come after.”

The letter written by Sharpe is a wonderful demonstration of an officer showing that he truly cared for the men under his leadership.  He wanted to show that he equally shared in the feeling of loss they were now experiencing.  He even went so far to personalize the letter and even revealed that he not only lost his own nephew in the raid but that Orren may have been by his side when he was killed.   

Placing ourselves in the boots of men like Lt. Col Sharpe, we can look back to the room where he dictated these letters to the assistant.  Or better yet we can place ourselves behind that typewriter, and be the assistant listening to a man empathizing, over and over again with the families of slain men.  One by one, as the letters were being composed and the pages piled atop one another we would get to see the progressive impact that the war was having on him.  With each letter, he re-experienced the circumstances of their death, reminding him of the unrelenting brutality of war, and then he would remind himself of the individual and how they contributed to the battalion before ultimately express his own feeling of loss.  With each soldier Sharpe made every effort to personally thank the families for the sacrifice of their son, or brother or husband and share in their feeling of sorrow and loss.  This is a part of war…and a part of every war but for Lt Col Sam Sharpe in particular, with the growing number of men dying under his personal command and considering the intimate treatment he used in the correspondence sent to their next of kin, his own ability to continue eroded with every letter written. 

The family of Orren John Congdon was gracious enough to share the letter written to them by Sharpe with a local newspaper.  Thankfully for the posterity of the battalion, for Orren and for Sharpe himself, the survival of this letter enables us to better understand the nature of this lost soldier and the man who commanded him.    Remember him.

Corporal Leonard Frank Brittan

Corporal Leonard Frank Brittan

678537

Originally with 169th Battalion

Born Burton-on-Trent, England

Lived in Hamilton, ON

Died of Wounds – Sept 30, 1918

Buried at Duisans British Cemetery, Utrun France

It was a brutal desperate dash to try and save the life of a man.

“Stretcher bearer!!!” The team standing in wait near the jumping-off line immediately responded, bounding forward from their positions in search of the injured soldier. Undaunted and undeterred from the inherent risks they ventured forth, hoping that the armbands signifying themselves as Stretcher Bearers would be seen and respected by the German machine-gunners and sniper positioned out there. Finally, when they located him the men recognized immediately that his chances of survival would be slim. They had seen this situation far too many times. It had come to be that shells did as shells do and tore his stomach and back to shreds. Yet, with care and compassion they picked up the wounded Corporal and swiftly navigated him back through the concourse of trenches in hope of giving him a chance.

The man was moved with rapidity to a waiting ambulance where a vehicle was being filled with other seriously injured men waiting to be sported away for urgent care. The closest care centre from Ste Olle was the Number 4 Casualty Clearing Station…located 41 kilometers away in Agnes-les-Duisans. This meant hours and hours of time required to transport men who were suffering from machine gun bullets wounds, mangled limbs and devastating shell fire injuries. The trip would have been a tortuous one where every kilometer that was passed, every pothole that was hit would result in another tormented array of pain unleashed throughout his battered body. His only respite from the agony was from the occasional sympathetic dose of morphine administered into him by the medical attendant or the chanced opportunities where he passed out and transitioned into an unconscious state. However, the grace that each instance of unconsciousness provided would only be eliminated when the pain consuming his body was reawaken in a fury each time the transport smashed into another pothole.

The 29th of September was a most horrible day for the 116th Battalion. 260 men on that day were lost, killed or wounded. Corporal Leonard Henry Brittan was counted amongst the tally of loss for the day. He was a 27 yr old recent immigrant from England who lived and worked as a sprinkler fitter in the city of Hamilton. Originally hailing from a market town situated in the centre of Derbyshire named Burton on Trent, at the age of 23 he joined his parents and decided to move to Canada. It was here were he hoped to use his education as an electrician, find a new opportunity for himself and settle down within Canada. However, as the war disrupted the lives of pretty much everyone, it disrupted Leonard’s plans for a new life.

On February 16th, 1916, Brittan enlisted with the Toronto-based 169th Battalion. He trained with the battalion at Camp Niagara and on the 5th of November disembarked on the SS Corsican for Liverpool. Like so many of the regional battalions raised across Canada, Brittan’s company was absorbed into the 116th on the eve of 1917. It was in his new unit where Brittan would miraculously survive the next 17 months of continuous combat before finding himself being called to attend an officer on the eve of the units’ most tragic of battles. Later that day, Private Brittan became a Corporal.

Since the Battle of Amiens on August 8th, 1918, the 116th lost a colossal 575 soldiers from their ranks. This number represented over 60% of their fighting strength. As the unit progressed from battle to battle, from Vimy to Fosse 4 to Hill 70 and then to Passchendale the number of men from the 116th who first stepped down together on French soil grew smaller and smaller. The men who remained were referred to as ‘old hands’. These were the men who knew war. They knew when to duck and when to stand unconcerned of their personal safety as the angry echos of war exploded around them. And with the loss of so many officers, the ranks of leaders needed to be replenished. Thus, on the eve of their next ordered attack Leonard was asked to assume a leadership role. As a Corporal, his job would be to lead a platoon of 8-10 men in the execution of one portion of an attack. Tragically, this promotion would last one solitary day for on the 29th of September as the battalion looked to dislodge the array of German machine gunners protecting the western approach to the village of Ste Olle Corporal Brittan was grievously wounded by shellfire.

The remainder of the account of Corporal Brittan’s final day would be lost with his passing and the passing of those who he served with. He would succumb to his wounds upon reaching the Casualty Clearing Station in Duisans. His death was recorded as occurring on the 30th of September 1918. Also lost to our collective memory on that fateful day was the story that accompanied the awarding of Military Medal to the new NCO. To win a Military Medal, one must have been a non-commissioned officer, warrant officer or non-commissioned individual who demonstrated acts of bravery in the field. For a man, an ordinary lad, an electrician come sprinkler installer, to transition to a warrior then leader of men and in his first act as an officer demonstrate such bravery to be formally recognized by the Officer Commanding the Battalion is a wonderful, amazing and material thing.

Remember him or lest we forget.

Private William Joseph Gethons

Private William Joseph Gethons

745529

Born – Longford Mills, ON

Died Nov 14, 1918

Buried at Columbkille Cemetery, Uptergrove, ON

I must have driven past it a million times but it was only until recently when I noticed the accompanying cemetery. As part of this project of discovery, research and recognition I have been dragging my family around cemeteries across Ontario in search of the final resting places of the men of the 116th. Millions of decedents of Great War soldiers travel to France and Belgium on an annual basis to visit the battlefields and the countless cemeteries that contain the remains of the men who fell upon those fields. Fewer Canadians, however, make the same effort to visit and recognize the sacrifice of the men who made it back. Most of the soldiers who returned from France were able to live a long and fruitful life. However many fell victim to the wounds and illnesses received during their time of service. One such brave Canadian soldier died three days after the war ended.

It was on a recent drive from my family cottage ‘into town’ where I followed the well trod route, looked to my right and recalled seeing a series of monuments jutting out of the ground in the distance. The cemetery is situated to the side of a prominent Catholic church located in the hamlet of Uptergrove, Ontario…just south east of Orillia. Veering off onto the shoulder and ‘doing a U-ey’ to the groans on one daughter and the hurrah’s of the other, we ventured up the long drive to check for some gravestones brandishing the battalion name “116th“. It was within a few minutes of wandering through the tall grass where we found him. Situated in a most prominent place, closest to the entrance of the cathedral, lay his final remains. The soldier was the 26 year old, Private William Joseph Gethons.

It was on April 15th in the Spring of 1916 where the 24 yr old lad from Longford Mills decided to make the journey to Beaverton and enlist with the 116th. On the surface he was a healthy young man. Standing a tall 5 ft 10 ½ and weighing in at 150 lbs, he was a larger lad than most of his friends and fellow enlistees. It was soon after he joined up where he learned that his spirit would prove to be stronger than his body. In order to help raise the prominence and awareness of the battalion, the men of the 116th completed a march around and across Ontario County. When the battalion reached Beaverton, William would fall into line and complete the march in full gear down the dusty roads to Oshawa, then back up to Uxbridge. Approximately 1000 local men, clad in their khakis’ were divided up into four companies and stretched out to make the 106km long journey. By the time William arrived at Oshawa, he would report to the medical staff complaining of breathing problems. These continued and further expounded when the battalion reached Camp Niagara for training. It was here where the soldier was diagnosed to have tuberculosis and was sent to a sanitorium.

William would have been distraught both by his illness and by having to see the battalion he so wanted to be part of leave and make its’ way to England and France. While recuperating, one would certainly assume that he would be following the regular reports of how his battalion was faring over in France. The Orillia Packet provided in-depth and regular reports in its newspaper detailing the prominent achievements, notable injuries and tragic deaths of local lads. From his bed, as news of the great victories attained on the battlefield in the late summer and autumn of 1918 made it over Canada, the health of the soldier continued to deteriorate. And with each forceful drive made by the 116th and the CEF, the illness William so valiantly battled also began to claim its’ own victory. It was three days after the sounds of the guns drew to a silence, when the breaths he so laboured to make also became silenced. On the 14th of November in the year 1918 Private William Joseph Gethons died. Another casualty of the Great War and someone worthy of having a middle-aged man with two teenaged girls in tow do a u-ey along Highway 12 just south of Orillia and pay his overdue and well-deserved respect to the final remains of the former soldier.

Please make your own trip to visit Private William Gethons…and don’t forget his battalion mates who also rest in perpetuity in cemeteries all across this great country.

Lest we forget.

Sergeant Alfred Malcolm Knibbs

Sergeant Alfred Malcolm Knibbs

678508

Born 1885, Levenshulme, Manchester, England

Enlisted in 169th Battalion

Killed at Passchendale on Oct 29, 1917

Memorialized on Menin Gate, Ypres Belgium

The called it the Guilded Age.  Cities were bursting with growth and optimism. It was a time for those lucky enough to be born in it to see out to their futures with unending and unyielding confidence.  This era was defined by great wealth, obscene decadence, boundless opportunity and driven by rapid and constant change.  Yet for some, for many, just living in one of these epicenters of industry, would prove hazardous to their health.  This is the story of one such man.  Alfred Knibbs grew up in a suburb of one of the centres of global industrialization.  He lived in Levenshulme, a neighbourhood community of Manchester, England.  It was within these such communities where the workers who fueled the industrial behemoth lived.  At the age of 25, the young Mancurian would look out to the world and see opportunity…however that was only on clear days.  In most days he would descend the steps from his residence and wade into a fog of putrid, suffocating soot-infused air.  His walk to work would not be far from the portrayal of England in a Dicken’s novel…row upon row of two-story brick tenement style homes, blackened by the thick coal-stained air that cascaded down from the forest of smokestacks that lined the city skyline.  For a smart energetic, enthusiastic youth like Alfred, one can imagine the opportunities that were presented to him…if he could survive, that is.

The Guilded Age was also defined by massive waves of immigration to Canada and the United States.  At the age of 25, Alfred decided to say goodbye to the hum of Manchester and emigrate thousands of miles away across the pond.  Alfred arrived in Canada in 1910 and found himself in the absolute opposite environ to his prior existence settling in the tree-lined neighbourhood of Trinity-Bellwoods of central Toronto.  Employed as a salesman, he worked at Palmer & Co, a firm that manufactured machinery tools that would be used in the industrialization of this colonial capital city.  Steady employment was followed by finding himself a young lady to call his wife and within 2 years the family had one new wee mouth to feed.  A second was added within another.  And then the tragic scene repeated itself over once again…new father, new immigrant to Canada, well groomed lawn and garden accompanied by fresh clean air and endless opportunities when the dark clouds of war gathered above another.  The new husband of Annie and father responded to the call and on January 6th, 1916 enlisted with the 109th Regiment aka the 169th Battalion. 

By the fall of 1916, now Company Sergeant Major Knibbs was stepping off the gangway of the SS Corsican joining the war effort back home in England.  In early January 1917 he was transferred to the 116th and his transition from journeyman salesman to soldier would continue apace.  Knibbs military service was accented by a series of promotion, reversions to lower ranks followed by a series of another promotions.  His final rank was Sergeant which he was assigned to him just before the attack on Hill 70 in the summer of 17.  His final action as a soldier occurred on the night of Oct 29th, 1917 in the heart of the battle of Passchendaele.  Knibbs had been leading his men in the horrid sea of slop at Bellevue Heights when it became their time to be relieved and get themselves some rest.  One by one Knibbs connected with the men of his platoon to signal their time to proceed to rear positions in the front.  When he reached the last man at the last post, Knibbs was hit in the temple with the bullet from a snipers’ rifle.  And just like that, another wife became a widow and another pair of children would grow up never knowing the man who was their father. 

Remember him.

Private William Edward Lloyd

Private William Edward Lloyd

678619

Born 1883, Manchester, England

Lived in Toronto, ON

Enlisted with 169th Battalion – served with the 116th Battalion

Killed in Action on August 28, 1917 at Hill 70

The unbounded tragedy of war continues to stun and stagger. Sometimes its’ fickle sword strikes once, cuts deep and then while it leaves the victim wounded, whether it be physical or mental, the victim does just what we most hope to see. They survive. While the struggle to carry on may be constant it is rarely insurmountable. However, for those who lived and survived in the time of the Great War, many were forced to bear a sad successive series of strikes that would break a contemporary. War tends to harden the soul…whether it be a parent, a grandparent or a child. The story of Private William Edward Lloyd is a tragedy that reaches across the ages.

William Edward Lloyd, while born in Manchester moved at an early age with his family to Llandudno, Wales. His childhood would have been a majestic one, whereby the youngster and his siblings would grow up in a area of the country lined with ancient castles and historic places. It would be a wonderful place for a child to let their imagination rule their play…with short visits to nearby Conwy Castle or Caernarfon Castle acting as the virtual Disneyland for Welsh youngsters. Add the fact that they lived a block from the ocean and the envy for such a fortunate youngster is a wee bit overwhelming.

William grew up in a household where he was the eldest of nine children. When he reached the age of 29 he migrated to Canada where he and his wife Helen looked to start a family together. They wasted no time and in May of 1912 Helen gave birth to their first child, Margaret. In 1914, Elizabeth followed and a year later William Edward Jr was born. William was working as a stonecutter during these early years and with the significant amount of growth occurring in Toronto at that time, his skills would have been in high demand. The family bought a lovely small bungalow house in the Dovercourt neighborhood of Toronto. With a young household brimming with the typical wail emitted by babes and toddlers, it would have been a busy time for the new parents. By the time the winter of 1915/1916 arrived the question would have begun to dominate in their household. On the one side there was the monumental and overbearing combined pressures of duty, expectation, and honour. On the other side was the competing convocation of clatter emitted from three of the most beautiful creatures sleeping mere steps away from the couple and the responsibility to provide for and raise them.

When the decision was made, William did what so many fathers did…he went. On Jan 24th, 1916, William became Private William Edward Lloyd of the 169thCanadian Infantry Battalion. By this time William’s younger brother John was already over in England serving with the 14th Canadian Battalion. His two other brothers, David and James were serving with the Royal Welsh Fusiliers. While the other Lloyd brothers were all younger and still single, William was the only one who had four mouths to feed back home.

The war experiences of David and James Lloyd are not well known. The limited amount of available information on the service histories is an unfortunate circumstance for most of those who served with the BEF in the Great War. Researchers of Canadians who fought and served in the Great War can consult with a myriad of records that have been saved, stored, and now digitized for easy access. However, this is because Canada was never bombed by the Hitler’s Luftwaffe. Canadian soldier, Private John Lloyd record’s survived and they reveal that he received a head wound from shrapnel in May of 1916 and quickly followed that up by contracting Tuberculosis. John was sent home to Canada to recuperate, however he had an early death dying at the age of 35 in 1925. His brother James also survived the war, however also died at an early age, and passed away in 1925. David appears to have been the lucky one making it to the ripe old age of 65 yrs. old.

William Edward Lloyd story is not uncommon nor unique. As the 116th was nearby broken up in its’ entirely with men being transferred to the 2nd, 3rd, 18th and 19th Battalions, its’ commanding officer, Samuel Simpson Sharpe was able to save the unit and on Dec 31st a Company of men from the 169th Battalion join the 116th. William was part of this draft and soon found himself in Flanders, training for war. Most of the time between Feb 1917 and August 1917, William and the 116th was use as a pioneer battalion. Their job was to dig trenches, install new communications wiring and repair or maintain supply roads. William’s first real test would have been on the 25th of July when the Battalion conducted the raid on German trenches at Avion. This was followed by their request to quickly relieve the men who had fallen during the battle of Hill 70 on August 22nd. Six days after being tossed into one of the deadliest battles for the Canadians in the war, William was with the men ordered to hold the front lines. The details behind his death are unknown however a news clipping related that 5 of his chums carried the slain man off the field of battle. It further states that he was given a military funeral as he was laid to rest in Aix-Noulette Cemetery outside Lens, France.

New of her husband’s death reached Helen around the 18thof September. Devastating as it was, she had to carry on. All the war widows had to. With three toddlers in her stead, it was her responsibility to continue to raise and support them. However, the records show that tragedy struck the three children only 7 years later when their mother died of a burst appendix. The task of carrying on was now passed along to the kids. The trio had lost a father they barely knew and now with Margaret 13, Elizabeth 11 and wee William 9 had now lost their mom too. Thankfully, the story of the Lloyd family is not all tragic…while William died relatively young the two sisters were able to live long lives. One hopes that this story reaches their descendants to be reminded of the sacrifices their grandparents made for them.

Remember them.

Private Frederick James Pulsford

Private Frederick James Pulsford

690316

Born St Peters Port, Guernsey, Channel Islands

Lived in Hamilton, ON

Enlisted with 173rd Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders

Died Aug 25, 1917 at Hill 70

It was a week of sturdy handshakes. Wide smiles. Great memories rekindled. Clinking glasses…shouts of praise and joyful reunions! As he completed his rounds, he visited the homes of his aunts and uncles, cousins and their families and ensured he did not skip the places of his childhood friends. With each stop tears would be shed, expressions of thanks would be exchanged, and each call would end with a comforting hug and a promise to return shortly and safely. The soldier in question was Private Frederick James Pulsford and he was using his last furlough before completing his training with the Canadian 173rd Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders to visit his family on Guernsey in the Channel Islands.

One can imagine the excitement that rushed through the home of each family he visited. It had been less than two years since his father and mother, Alfred and Harriett, moved their family from the island to Canada. His father had been a veteran of the Royal Naval Reserve with over 27 years in the service. However, this primary form of employment was working as a police officer in the island’s main city of St. Peter’s Port. In May 1912, the family that consisted of Frederick, his parents and his 6 sisters and 3 brothers all immigrated to the new world, eventually settling in the city of Hamilton, Ontario. During his furlough from the 173rd, as Frederick went from house to house, the extent of the Pulsford family’s contribution to the war effort would have been reinforced to him over and over and over again…at least 20 times for that matter! It was recorded that Frederick could count 17 cousins and 3 uncles in the service of King and Country.

By the fall of 1915, with war raging across the continent, the need for new replacement soldiers to join the cause had extended from England to its' overseas territories. Recruitment efforts were rapidly ramping up in cities across Canada. It was at this time, in February of 1916 when Frederick enlisted with the Hamilton-based 173rd Battalion. The 173rd was associated with the Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders which was composed of men from the Hamilton region which were predominantly of Scottish origin or ancestry. At this time, Frederick was 28 years of age and was working in as a lathe hand in Steeltown's burgeoning metal manufacturing industry.

Upon enlistment, now a soldier Private Pulsford's military experience began with his training for war in Canada followed up with additional training in England. In March, he was transferred to the 116th Ontario County Battalion and joined them as they prepared for the upcoming battle of Vimy Ridge. On June 29th Pulsford incurred his first injury incurring a bullet would to his hand. Thankfully, this only kept him out of the lines for a couple weeks before joining his mates in the trenches just prior to their baptism of fire in the raid at Fosse 4 in Avion.

The Raid turned out to be a resounding success as it proved that the collection of rookie soldiers could prove themselves effective on the field of battle. From their fine work, the battalion was sent to Lens in August as Currie's Canucks embarked on operation with the attack on Hill 70 aimed to deceive the Germans and pull soldiers away from the Passchendaele sector. While Hill 70 was one of the lesser-known operations conducted by the CEF, it proved to one of the bloodiest engagements they participated in while serving in Flanders. It was on the 22nd of August when the 116th had their rest at Auchel cut short and hurried down to relieve some of the decimated units at Lens.

The Battle of Hill 70 began on August 15th and eventually cost Currie 9000 of his soldiers. By the 25th, with the 116th now in the line, the battalion, filled with still relatively green soldiers, faced the well-entrenched Germans who were situated in the nearby battered city of Lens. From their hidden positions the Germans volleyed scores of artillery shells at the Canadian positions. It was only dumb luck for a man to not get hit by the incoming fire. The boys desperately clung to the sides of trenches and dugouts and searched a place to protect themselves from the onslaught. It during this evening where the pride of the Pulsford family was hit. Shellfire ripped into his back and stomach, gravely injuring the young islander. His mates tried to help him by carrying him to medical care in the rear, however the degree of the injuries would take his life.

Private Frederick John Pulsford is memorialized on the war memorial in St Peters Port in Guernsey. HIs remains rest in Villers Station Cemetery in Villers-au-Bois, France. Remember him.

Privates George Borman, William McCall and Henry Eastwood

Private George Hiram Borman

643939

Born Orillia ON, 1889

Enlisted with 157th Simcoe Foresters Battalion

Dad to Marguerite

Private William McCall

690758

Born, Glasgow Scotland 1888

Enlisted with the 173rd Argyle and Sutherland Battalion

Dad to Elizabeth and Jesse

Private Henry Knight Eastwood

690764

Born Burnley, Lancashire, England

Enlisted with the 173rd Argyle and Sutherland Battalion

Dad to Robert, Winifred and Gladys

All three men are buried at Oxford Road Cemetery, Wieljte, Belgium

Spring finally arrived in the city of Hamilton when winter’s frosty hold finally lost its’ firm grip on the city.  With the welcoming of the new season, a fresh draft of men lined up to be served as much needed resources for the war machine chugging away over there.  The battles of 1915 waged an ever-growing tally leading to the colonies to be asked to help out in the supply of more men for the allied war effort.  And thus…in towns, villages and cities across the country new queues of eager patriots began to form.  On the 10th of April in 1917 whether it be by coincidence or chance itself one particular line began to form that ended up resulting in an example of the most tragic of coincidental circumstances.  For within one that formed in downtown Hamilton, two men standing approximately six paces apart from one another, would in a little more than a year and half end up lying 3 paces apart, together, forever interred in Wieljte, Belgium’s Oxford Road Cemetery.  Between them was a third man. All three were Canadians, fathers and privates serving in the 116th Ontario County Battalion.  It was on the 23rd day in October when their war effort would each come to an end mere hours after arriving at the Passchendaele front. 

Henry Knight Eastwood (Plot 1 G 5 at Oxford Road Cemetery), was the father of three and husband of Edith.  At 37 years of age he was the oldest of the trio who fell that day.  He left his job as a potter and took his place with the 173rd Argyle and Sutherland Battalion.  (for the inquisitive, a potter was one who makes pots for a living. Pots…not pot) His service number was 690764.   The man standing six digits away and hence possibly six paces ahead of him in line was the 29 year old William McCall (Plot 1 G 9 at Oxford Road Cemetery).  He responded to Service Number 690758.  Native of Glasgow and immigrant to Canada, he was the husband to Jean and father of one and one on the way. William left his job as a rivetter at the Steel Company of Canada to join the war.   William was youthful looking, fresh-faced and sported a faint sparkle in his eye that hinted of regular bouts of comic banter. The odd coincidence of proximity of the pair would carry them through training, transport to England, transfer to the 116th and all the way to one unfortunate place and time. 

George Hiram Borman (Plot 1 G 6 at Oxford Road Cemetery) was the third father to join the trio on that fateful day.  He was a young 28 years old man.  Married to Agnes Elizabeth, the buoyant, fresh-faced and ambitious lad worked at the Canada Wood Specialty Company in his hometown of Orillia.  Many a turned spindle bore the makers mark of one George Borman.  He signed up with the 157th Simcoe Foresters Battalion on Jan 27th in 1916.  Like his mates from the 173rd, he too was trained in England before being transferred to the 116th a couple months prior to the battalion being shipped off to France. 

Circumstance brought the three together on the 23rd of October.  General Arthur Currie has been called by Lt. General Douglas Haig to help him put a win on the board.  The year was coming to a close and the combined allied force of Great Britain, New Zealand and Australia has lost over 200,000 men to the mud at Passchendaele.   With the winter rapidly approaching and Haig facing the combined prospect of a further entrenched German position hosting a million-odd troops that were soon to arrive from the Russian front meant that time was of the essence.  The Passchendaele Ridge had to be taken and the only allied army with sufficient manpower, muscle and morale were the Canadians. 

While the attack was planned for Oct 26th, Currie would not send his men over the top until he was good and ready.  This meant he needed his men to be well-trained, well-entrenched and well supplied.  With the 116th Battalion arriving in the theatre on the 22nd of October, it would be their job to help provide some of the muscle.  Their job included moving tons of war supplies, ordinance and ammunition to the front lines atop a network of short rail tracks that also had to be built.  The transport system was necessary to move the massive amounts of material up to the front.  The men also had to construct countless miles of duckboard tracking that would give the men something to walk on as they approached the front.  The job of the 116th and fellow battalions was as essential as it was immense. 

And yet…on the 23rd there they were.  Barely enough time for their boots to get encrusted in mud…eager, ready and willing to do their bit.  To be there amongst the lads.  Chance conversations bantered enroute to their next assigned task of hauling supplies.   One can easily visualize the three dads flashing those ever so familiar smiles that always accompanied the mention of the names Jesse, Rob, Margurite, Winifred, Beth or wee Gladys.  They were three dad’s who left their young in the care of their wives, hopeful, confident but entirely unsure they would ever return.  And yet, tragically, they were three lads who were forever lost to another random shell that just happened to land where they just happened to be walking.  Today they rest, shoulder to shoulder, in passing as when they were alive, together, emboldened by the shared awareness and knowledge that somewhere the descendants of the little ones who shared their name still think of them and thank them for what they did.  

Remember them. 

Private James Patrick McGrath

Private James Patrick McGrath

3030969

Born: Brantford, ON

Lived at 240 Western Ave, Chicago Il USA

Died of wounds as a Prisoner of War – Oct 9, 1918

Buried at Mons Communal Cemetery

They lost almost 100 men two day’s prior.  95 to be exact.  Another 200 or so were wounded in the attacking operation.  It was the most brutal, bloodiest day the battalion had experienced since arriving in France.  And that was including participating in the battles at Vimy, Hill 70 and Passchendaele.  The men had yet to take the lead in a major attack…rather they were taking the more comfortable spot of following just behind those who were leading the main events.  Everything changed on the 8th of August.  It was at Amiens, the first day of the 100 Day Campaign (or Canada’s 100 Days for those who bleed red) when the men of the 116th were asked to assume a new role in the battle order.  It wasn’t just them.  It was all the battalions serving in the 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th Divisions.  Under the brilliant leadership of Lieutenant-General Arthur Currie, the CEF became the glistening point on the sharp end of the Allied spear targeted at the heart of the Reich and the 116th relished their newfound responsibility. 

With the setting of the sun on the 29th of September, the 116th had just saw the battalion get virtually decimated.  In only one day they lost approximately 30% of their fighting strength.  About 10% of the men secured the highest honour a soldier could give to his country.   Like a punch-drunk prizefighter, they needed to take the stool before returning to the ring.  The 30th was spent scrambling about in the rear-guard collecting men from the Pioneering, Engineering or Supply battalions in the desperate search for replacements.  The men also needed some time to rest and recharge before they moved onto the next objective.  On the morning of Oct 1st, one of these men, a gent who was still caked in the blood of his comrades and coated in the sweat of battle, 38 year old Brantford-born Private James Patrick McGrath brushed himself off and went back into battle. 

Private James McGrath was not an ordinary Canadian recruit.  Mostly because, while he was a Canuck, he was an ex-pat Canuck, now calling America his home.  He was a father to a daughter named Marjorie and lived with his brother in Chicago, Illinois.  The family had emigrated to the United States and were living in one of the largest and most exciting cities on the continent.  Despite his obvious parental responsibilities, like many other men at the time he felt the need and duty to enlist.  Why should other men suffer and die for his and his daughter’s freedom?  In our contemporary society, this burden tends to fall solely on the young …yet in 1917 people thought and acted quite differently.  Thus, it was no surprise when on November 7th, 1917, James left his kid in the care of his brother and found himself in an entirely different country, queuing up to join the Canadian Expeditionary Force. 

Huh? Why?  For an ex-pat ready and wanting to join the fray, the simple answer is that he was not willing to wait.  US President, Woodrow Wilson may have declared that the US Army was going to make ‘the world safe for democracy’, it took him a boatload of time to get boat loads of men over to France to start making that commitment so.  Many Americans, including those with dual citizenship knew they had an alternative to having to wait until his country got its’ ssit together.  The answer was but a short train ride away.  Ex-pat Canadians (and many, many Americans) merely hopped across the border and signed up in a recruitment office in Windsor, Montreal or Toronto.  By choosing this pathway, it could take only a short few months before they found themselves disembarking a troop ship at Liverpool.  As for James, he joined on the 7th of November, was placed with the 8th Reserve Battalion for training and later transferred to the 116th as a replacement on Aug 30th, 1918. 

With almost no training nor the time needed to acclimatize themselves to this brutish form of warfare, by stage of the war while the Canadians and their allies were driving deep into German-held territory, Private McGrath was being quickly shovelled right into the fire. While he was treated like more fuel for the fire, the 116th did need reinforcements.  They had lost well over 1/3 of their fighting strength since the Battle of Amiens on the 8th of August.  And thus, like a fumbling child learning how to walk in the middle of a race he was asked to quickly learn how to fight under fire, do so with a little luck and while not getting himself killed in the process.  On the 29th of September, McGrath was able to make it through the most devastating day the battalion had ever faced.  McGrath would not have known the difference…for him, every day was a constant, never-ending hell.  With one day to breathe, on the 1st of October the battle continued for the new soldier. 

The night prior gave the men no respite from the unfortunate circumstances of fighting in the open, in the mud and with only a ground sheet to protect them from the elements.  The sky poured down upon the men all night long.  Thus, after having to struggle to desperately execute their orders, making it through just one more day, they had to do so within a deluge.  Nudges signalled that their few hour nap was over and that fighting was about to begin once anew.  The time was 4:00 am.  Details regarding Private James McGrath’s day are not known.  The battalion diary details how they incurred heavy casualties while attempting to cross the Cambrai-Douai Road and later experienced a great deal of chaos and confusion and additional losses at Ramilies.  The sad tally amounted to 140 men killed, wounded or missing for the day.  It was somewhere along this day of frantic fighting where McGrath was himself wounded and counted himself amongst those categorized as missing.  A result of the rapid movements of the troops and the decisions to move forward or retreat, the wounded man was left out on the battlefield amongst the dead.  Thankfully, a German soldier (or soldiers) picked up the McGrath and brought him back for medical care.  The specific nature of his injuries are not known, however we do know that nine days later the Red Cross Society notified officials at the CEF that Canadian solider, Private James McGrath had died as a Prisoner of War while being cared for at the Lazarett Military Hospital at Mons.  He was 38 years old. 

Remember him.  

Lieutenant Roy Warren Biggar

Lieutenant Roy Warren Biggar

20 years old

Born - Hamilton, ON 1897

Original Battalion – 173rd Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders

Killed in Action at Avion on March 3rd, 1918.

On patrol.  The front had been comparatively quiet for some time.  Cold harsh winters tended to do that. The devastation ready to be wrought by the artillery was hovering over the heads and in the minds of the lads, as it always tended to do.  This omnipresent fear impacted those from both sides of the line. If one side decided to let loose, the other would respond in kind leaving both contestants scratching at the frozen earth in a frantic search for refuge.  However, there were some sections where shellfire damage was especially vicious, where one did not need to only fear for flying shards of jagged metal or shrapnel balls, rather one also needed to duck from flying bricks, timber or assorted detritus that was distributed from the blasts.  At the end of February in 1918, the 116th returned to the blessed hellscape referred to as the Avion sector.

At Avion, amongst the scattered piles of bricks that littered the sector, the occasional foundation still supported the odd scrap of a wall or two.  Trenches were constructed above ground in this torn and mutilated cityscape.  He was a leader of men, a lieutenant in the 116th and on this night, the first after they arrived late in the eve on the 27th, he would lead 10 of his men on patrol in and around a sector situated just outside the ruined city of Avion. 

It was only two years prior when the world and his prospects would be so different.  Bursting with enthusiasm, he armed himself with drive, desire and intelligence and a long list of life goals ready to target.  The magnificent exuberance and energy of youth is always something to behold.  And yet, as eager as he was to embark on a promising career in law, he decided to trade it all in for a pair of puttees, a tunic and some trousers.   The 17 year old lad, young Roy Warren Biggar, stemming from a prominent Hamilton family had just been accepted to study in the Law Society of Upper Canada when a competing call came knocking.  Being an active member in the 91st Regimental Militia (based out of Hamilton, Ontario) without concern, Roy elected to put his legal studies on hold and apply for a commission with the 173rd Argyll and Sutherland Highland Battalion.  

Being a younger man in a time of war was not to uncommon.  Some officers were more than willing to toss the boys into the sausage grinder then wait until they attained the acceptable age for a man to die.  However, it was often the case that they would have the boys train a bit longer, either Canada or England before they asked them to join the show.  Biggar was held back from joining the action for almost 2.5 years.  When he was given his big chance, he joined the 116th exactly when the men were being asked to jump into the fray at Hill 70.  His baptism into modern warfare happened just outside Avion, where they battalion was asked to shore up the eastern flank of the front. 

Surviving his baptism at Hill 70, Roy joined his men as they returned to more training.  His next action was seen when the 116th participated in one of the worst battles of the war, Passchendaele.  While the details behind the incident are not entirely clear, on Oct 28th Roy was wounded in his foot by a bayonet.  It was apparently accidental in nature and a rather minor injury keeping him out of action for about two weeks.  By the time of his return the winter had started to set in, leading to a lag in the continuous series of operations the battalion had participated in that year.  From Vimy to Passchendale, 1917 was a tortuous year for the men in khaki.  However, with the welcome rest and leave granted it would give the men, and particularly Roy a chance to recover.

On the 28th of February in 1918, Lieutenant Roy Biggar found him back where his war started…patrolling the grounds just outside the city of Avion.  This time, while the Canadians has made significant gains in the summer of 1917, the lines between the combatants had not changed much since.  It was here in the wrecked span between the Souchez River to the North and the village of Coulotte in the South, where the Lieutenant took his turn leading his men out into the darkness.  At the end of their patrol, ten men would return to the Battalion.  Their leader would not.  He would be just another victim of a random shell tossed into the vacant expanse.  The life of another promising young Canadians snuffed out. 

In 2014, on November 11th the Law Society of Upper Canada would posthumously award some of their members an honourary degree in law.  Four members of the 116th Battalion, including Lieutenant Roy Warren Biggar, Lieutenant Ambrose Harold Goodman, Lieutenant James Ignatius McCorkell and Captain Franklin Walter Ott were awarded the degree they dreamed of attaining all their lives, but gave it all to serve, support and sacrifice for their country. 

Remember them. 

Private Ben Sawyer - First Nation Soldier

116th Battalion and Chippewa of Rama Private Ben Sawyer

Private Ben Sawyer

643968

Born     Rama, ON

Wounded at Hill 70 – Aug 28, 1917

Situated on the eastern shores of Lake Couchiching stands one of Canada’s First Nation bands. The people are descended from the Ojibwa who for thousands of years thrived on the north-eastern coastline of the USA. Throughout the 17th and 18th centuries, as Europeans began to settle in their traditional territory, the bands living there were pushed further and further west. Which each year the bands progressively came into conflict with both the settlers and the natives who were already living in those regions. Their struggle for survival was constant as they sought to raise their families, maintain their culture, their history and their traditions and do so in an era precipitated by disease, meager sustenance, and unending violence. And thus, with each year passing the bands were forced to move further west and further north. In the early 1800’s bands of Ojibwa moved into Canada and settled in the area just to the east of modern-day Orillia called Rama. The band refers to itself as the Chippewas of Rama Mnjikaning First Nation.

Today is Canada’s National Truth and Reconciliation Day. It is a day where we are meant to appreciate and recognize the history and inhuman suffering that was inflicted upon our country’s First Nation people. Specifically, we are called to reflect upon the injustices inflicted upon the First Nation children who suffered at the hands of our Government’s stated policy of cultural eradication. As our group is meant to remember, recognize and celebrate the service and sacrifice of the men of the 116th Canadian Infantry Battalion, we can use this as an opportunity to recognize and appreciate those same First Nation men who served and sacrificed in the Great War.

The community of Rama has a personal connection to me and my family. My family’s summer cottage is located near the community and a painting of an original Ojibwe from the community has maintained a place of prominence in our home for almost 100 years. This summer, during my vacation with my daughters, we made a point to stop and appreciate the Great War memorial that the band has erected in the center of their community. This memorial lists the names of 40 men from their band that served in the Great War. After conducting research on the men, I discovered that 7 of these men served in the 116th Battalion. In this post I will highlight on of these men, Private Ben Sawyer.

The men who served in the 116th are as follows:

• Pte Wilfred Clarence Benson

• Pte Russell Hopkins

• Pte Ernest Stanley Joe

• Pte Ben Sawyer - 30

• Pte Wellington Simcoe

• Pte Herbert Wellington Williams

Private Ben Sawyer

Their differences may have been striking in the onset but their commonalities were what kept them together. In the darkest days of their campaign, when the units were bound together, shoulder to shoulder in the trenches, in the dirt, together, illuminated by the very lights that blast above the in the night sky and cast shadows upon and amongst them, they were all the same. In the terror and horror and blissful excitement of taking that last step on the ladder, the top one just vacated by their brother who was mere steps in front of them, they climbed over the parapet as one and waded together into the withering hell of warfare. Yet, that original difference, the darker complexion, the black eyes and the black hair were the only things that separated these men from the others as they queued up on the cold February morning a year and half before. Once they signed their names to their enlistment form, it was the experience of many First Nation’s soldiers that they were treated like ‘one of the lads’. Clad in khaki and sporting the badge with the small dark blue box atop a larger blue-grey box on their shoulder, men like Private Ben Sawyer were all the same…private soldiers in the 116th Ontario County Infantry Battalion.

On a cold day in February 1916, Rama First Nation member Ben Sawyer and his band mate Herbert Wellington Williams travelled together into Orillia and signed up to join the 157th Simcoe Foresters Battalion. It should be noted that at this time of the war, despite agreeing to place their lives in the hands and service of his country, both Ben and Herbert were not considered Canadian citizens. While they were ‘original’ Canadians whereby their families had been living in the lands of what was Canada for the past hundreds of years they were not either allowed to vote nor considered as a citizen of the country. Meanwhile, the other men who attended the same queue to sign up may have had just arrived mere months ago were given the honour and privileged of being consider a Canadian. Still, despite this blatant racist and prejudicial treatment, Ben, Herbert and soon thereafter, 38 other men from the Rama First Nation decided to join the cause. It is estimated that by the war’s end, 4000 First Nations men enlisted with the CEF.

Ben arrived in England in late Oct 1916 with the 157th. They were transferred to the 116th on the 8th of December. Soon after becoming integrated into the 116th, Ben wrote a note home. Based on his comment that the battalion just received a draft of 200 men, it can be estimated that he wrote the letter on Dec 31st. This was after Christmas and the unit just received a draft of men from the 169th Battalion. Please note the reference to Ben receiving letters from pupils from the Rama Day School. While Rama’s Day School was not a ‘residential school’ it should be noted that anecdotally some of the experiences of the students who attended ‘day schools’ were similar in nature to those who attended ‘residential schools’. The note reads as follows:

“Again I am sending a few lines to tell you we are all well at present. Of course myself, I got a bad cold mostly right along, and also good many of the boys. I guess the climate up here don’t agree with us, and I know the weather is often changeable this time of year, and I guess you ought to know. Thank you for the Christmas parcel. I received it yesterday, and I am really sorry that the parcel was undone when it reached me. I got the other things, all ok except the socks. I am really sorry for them. I got mine first, before the other boys. Theirs might be alright. I am using this notepaper that you sent me, and also the lead pencil. I also sent some postcards to the pupils who wrote me from Rama. I saw where they keep lots of deer near London, and we saw that clocktower on Westminster Bridge – Big Ben. In London, to go to picture shows, we are just too busy sizing up the big buildings. Only once we went to a picture show since we came to England, and it was last night and it was in the town of Goldalming. It is only three miles from Witley and it was just a little walk for the evening. I never thought I would fill this paper note when I started to write to you. Do you have much news from Bert or perhaps much better? I think when you read this letter we will be somewhere in France. We received a call sometime ago last week and so we are getting ready for France. Today we received a draft of 200 men to fill our battalion, but we are not drilling much now, only once in a while. When we go, I will drop a card to someone at home to let them know. Every time the Bugle band plays the tune of “pack up your troubles in your old kit bag, and smile, smile, smile” my it makes me think of home. “

In February of 1917, the battalion was transported over to join the war in France. It was here where he saw service at Vimy, the battles of Arras in the months following and survived the harrowing events of the raid on Fosse 4 at Avion on July 23, 1917. However, his true experiential demonstration of bravery, honour and sacrifice occurred on the 28th of August while the 116th held the front-line Chicory Trench. It was on this evening where three brethren from the Battalion were killed by shellfire. In this enfilade, Private Ben Sawyer received a number of life threatening wounds. While the notes are not clear, he was wounded in the stomach, buttocks, scrotum, feet and thighs. Due to the fact he actually survived his injuries is in itself a miracle. The medical records note that large chunks of shrapnel remained lodged in his pelvis, feet and thighs. Thankfully, Ben was able to be moved clear of danger and back to get medical assistance. That night in the trenches where he helped hold our position outside the city of Lens near Hill 70 would be his last of the war. In the spring of 1918, Ben was sent home to Canada to recover. His service for his country would be over.

One year later Private Ben Sawyer married Caroline Taylor and was able to live a relatively long life, eventually passing away on June 8th 1969 at the ripe old age of 83. As one additional snippet related to today, our National Day of Truth and Reconciliation, the archives of the Chippewas of Rama contains an amazing photograph. The date on the picture is uncertain, however based on the ages of the children and that of their parents, it can be guesstimated that it was taken around 1929-1930. It is a class photo of the children of the Rama Day School. While remarkable in itself, the band has been able to identify most of the children in the photograph…and to my amazement, the names mirror the surnames of the men who left Rama in the Spring of 1916 for France and thankfully returned home to start their own families a few years later. One boy, a serious looking lad, with dark eyes, dark hair and a dark completion was identified as Ben Sawyer, son of the Canadian war here and later a war hero himself serving in the Canadian Armed Forces at Korea.

Remember him…Remember them.

References

https://issuu.com/bencousineau/docs/final

https://www.ramafirstnation.ca/?page_id=506

Private Semen Marchuk

Private Semen Marchuk

678873

Enlisted in Jan 1916 with 169th Battalion

Born in 1883 in Podolskoj Gub, litinskaho vez Staro, Siniarskoj Volasti selo Spichency, Russia

Killed in Action – July 23rd, 1917 Fosse Raid at Avion

Commemorated on the Canadian War Memorial at Vimy

In the cacophony of chaos, he lay prone on the edge of the trench, standing alongside his mates in the platoon and waited. And waited. Feeling like forever, it was only minutes, maybe 5…maybe 10…it was so hard to tell. Through his box respirator his eyes struggled to see his Lieutenant…waiting, looking for the signal. However, even his Lieutenant could not see it. Standing, looking out above the parapet in the darkness, watching out into the pitch black, struggling to see through the deadly cloud of gas mixed with smoke that still lingered amongst them. Peering approximately 100 yards out into the bedlam , he watched for the signal to move his men, the lads of B Company, forward and take the railway embankment situated another 300 yards beyond the German front line. The minutes ticked on and he searched for a gap in the smoke giving him the chanced hope to see that signal. The success of the operation along with the lives of hundreds of men who went in the first wave relied upon the second to crash through and consolidate the gains. Quickly, the Lieutenant took one look back to his men and cried out…”Men…are you ready?” One by one shouts of …”Aye sir!, Yes, Ready, Yes sir, Aye, Tak”…”Tak”? Huh? What is a Tak?

Hearing his Private’s reply, he knew the man and knew what he meant. The unusual sounding response was given by a former soldier of the Russian Army. The man was Semen Marchuk. He was from Podolskoj Gub, litinskaho vez Staro, Siniarskoj Volasti selo Spichency, Russia. Apparently that meant a small village in central rural Ukraine called Shpychyntsi. At 5 ft 7 and sporting a massive 40 ½ inch barrel chest, he was one of the few men from the battalion who were not British, Canadian or American. Private Semen (probably pronounced Simon) Marchuk joined the battalion after his original unit, the 169th Battalion was integrated into the 116th. At the time he enlisted, he lived in the Toronto neighbourhood of Weston, situated just steps from the Humber River. His epic life journey found the 32 year old living in a most serene setting…a place that guaranteed a peaceful prosperous future…yet after spending only two years in Canada he decided to give it all up and join to fight alongside his new countrymen.

Semen’s journey to Canada may have been epic but was not unique. Between 1914-1918 over 10,000 men of Ukrainian descent, lads just like him who emigrated from farms, villages and cities of Ukraine, had joined up to fight with the CEF. They had left a region tortured by ethic violence, social upheaval and revolution. The village of his youth could have been mistaken for one from the middle ages despite its’ modern times. Yet, growing up in an era of massive social change would have had an incredible impact on the man. Also, add in the fact that all men were required to serve four years in the Russian army would have exposed Semen to the brutal violence, overt racism and social inequities of the wider world. Based on his year of birth it relates that Semen would have been a soldier in the Russian Army right during the onset of revolution in his country. In 1905 a wave of strikes washed over his motherland. Peasants on small farms and plots rose up across the country in protest, arguing for a voice and greater social standing. 1905 was also the year made famous by the mutiny of the Battleship Potemkin. With Semen serving in his nation’s army during this raucous time of social disruption and upheaval would have opened his eyes to the inhumane violence that broke out across his country. Anti-Jewish pogroms infiltrated every town and village and with Semen seeing it from the end of his bayonet he would see a country awash in blood and horror. It is no wonder why he, like many of his fellow countrymen and women, left to seek a better life in Canada.

From the hinterlands of central Europe to carrying a gun for the government during a time of revolution to living in a small bungalow nestled in a sleepy neighbourhood 7800 km away…Semen’s life journey did not need to experience another bend…however with him joining the conflict another chapter in life story would be written. And thus we find him…now Private Semen Marchuk, clad in khaki with one hand bracing himself on the side of a trench and the other holding onto a stretcher, ready to join his pals in executing their part of the plan. Finally, from within the smoke and fury a runner appeared and alerted the Officers of B and C Company that it was their time to proceed…and with that Private Marchuk joined the men in racing forward.

As companies of men were absorbed into new Battalions those units often stayed together and served together within the new company. By this time in the war, the 116th consisted of ‘Originals’ (men who first signed up with the 116th) as well as men transferred into the battalion from others…predominantly the 169th (Toronto), 120th (Hamilton), 157th (Simcoe Foresters), 126th (Peel) and 173rd (Hamilton) Battalions. On July 23rd, 1917 four men formerly from the 169th Battalion were killed in the battalion’s raid on Fosse 4 at Avion. The first to fall was Lieutenant Frank Scott Neil. From the blowing of the first whistles that sent A Company over the top, Neil, as the Lieutenant in command of C Company was the individual that Marchuk looked to for his signal to proceed. Neil had scaled the bags and with revolver in hand, led his men across the field of battle. Private Marchuk would have been with this group of men advancing towards the objective. The other two men from the 169th to fall that day were Lance Sergeant William George Arthur Fell and Private Alfred Osborne Hopwood Litherland. A report from men who made it back to the trenches detailed that beyond the slagheap in the advance on the railway embankment, Lance Sergeant Fell was wounded with a gun shot to the heart and was being cared to by a team of stretcher bearers. The report later went on to confirm that none of these men made it back that fateful night. While not confirmed, there is a strong chance that Private Marchuk was one of the men who while desperately seeking to save the life of his Sergeant, lost his own.

Private Semen Marchuk was a man who escaped from the violence, uncertainty and chaos of revolutionary Russia and found promise and opportunity in a country far, far from home. Canada welcomed him, along with countless other men, women and children of Ukrainian descent. As a demonstration of his gratitude, Semen gave his new country everything he had…and everything he ever would have. He gave his country his life. In the official history of the 116th Battalion, in their Roll of Honour…the name Semen Marchuk is missing. Hopefully, by uncovering and showcasing the story of his life, his service and his ultimate sacrifice, this unfortunate misstep can now be corrected. Remember him.

Lest we forget.

Private Douglas Bernard Carr

Private Douglas Bernard Carr

228161

Enlisted in the 201st Battalion, served in 169th and 116th Battalion

Born Bala, ON

Died Bala, ON - June 22, 1957

How would you respond to the question if you were him?

“Yes, it was a heck of a scrap…but I made it home and it wasn’t all bad.”

“Yes, but it was an accident. It is ok…a have another one in perfectly working order on the other side”

“One day my son…I will tell you all about it.”

Chances are high that the third response was never uttered. For when the sounds of the guns grew quiet and the wounds were bandaged up and left to mend and the boys returned home, the horrors of the war were left behind. Only scars remained etched on the bodies, minds and souls of the men as they took their place back in society.

As the ships made their return journey, the transition amongst the men began. Most returned to their former communities and homes. They went back to their families with many reacquainting themselves with the sweethearts they left behind. Normalcy slowly returned. Thoughts of the past would be crowded out by new priorities, of wives, children and careers. Over the years, the boys of the 116th and their CEF brethren would come to gather, recollect and reminisce. The Royal Canadian Legion was founded in 1925 to give these men a place and setting where they could collectively heal. It was also a spot where over a beer and a smoke, friends would chat among friends. It was part of the healing process. Convention relates that these settings were places of laughter, comfort and safety where the men could revisit the fun and good times that so often represented their time in the trenches. Memories of pranks and pitfalls. Glorious times spent on leave or just the lads being lads at rest and at play. They would repeat the rollicking accounts of the times in reserve when their platoon scored a brilliant goal in the dying seconds of a football game or another where a mate knocked the ball out of the park in the Brigade baseball tournament. These were the times, the experience and memories that the men strived hard to remember.

One of these events that was most likely to be recited over pints for years after the war occurred late in the summer of 1917. It was the Brigade Rifle Competition that took place on Aug 9th. Platoons from such notable battalions like the RCRs, the Princess Pats, the 42nd Royal Highland Regiment or fellow 9th Brigade battalions like the 58th, 43rd and 52nd competed for the prize of Best Individual and Team in Marksmanship…and it was for the chance to represent the 3rd Division in the Corps Competition. One of the men who took the prize as top sniper was a 19 yr old student from Bala, ON in Muskoka. His name was Douglas Bernard Carr.

Obviously, the details behind his victory are only left as distant echo’s resonating from within the Bala Royal Canadian Legion Hall. However, one can imagine the cheering, the hooting and hollering as the young 5 ft 7 northerner calmly and from progressively further distances scored direct hits on the targets. The 116th were the newbies in the Corps…the youngest battalion to join the fight. The old hands who came to watch the competition would surely ask “Didn’t these lads just have their baptism a couple weeks ago?” It was during the raid on Avion on July 23rd, a mere 16 days ago, where the brass decided to toss them into the fray to see how well they would perform? They called it being ”bloodied”? And now, in the main competition for the best overall individual and overall team performance in Marksmanship, the 116th Battalion and their top shooter Private Douglas Carr were at the forefront taking the top prize!

As the years went on and the men reunited with their mates from the battalion, they would certainly raise a glass in the honour of their ‘one-eyed’ sharpshooter! One-eyed? Huh? Wha? How could that be? Stories would have been made up to account for both the victory and the lost eye. However, it was probable that the ‘real story’ did not make it to a round of cheers…despite it being as or more worthy than winning the contest. The tragedy of the real story was probably left where it should be… buried alongside their fallen brethren in France and Belgium. One-eyed Doug Carr didn’t win the shooting competition with only one eye. He made it through Hill 70, Passchendaele, the Spring Offensive, Amiens and Boiry-Notre Dame with both of them. It was only at Artillery Hill on the 28th of August where he was made a casualty of the war after his position was hit by gas. While certainly being irritated from the noxious substance, he made it all the way to November 11th with both eyeballs. Yet…as the years progressed and he supped from his pint glass and drew a puff from his smoke with his mates, he did so through only one eye. The question…whether it be by friends, family and most certainly inquisitive youngsters, asked would probably include…”Mr. Carr, how did you lose your eye in the war?”

Private Carr’s real story is as or more tragic and heroic than one could imagine. It was on the 15th of December, barely a month after the war ended where Doug and his friend Fred Smith were waiting for a bus in the town of Valenciennes. The pair were hanging out on the corner in front of the bus station and enjoying the relaxed freedom that comes with peace and victory. It was at this time, where Doug heard a sound behind him. It was the carefree joyous laughter of youth. Instinctively, he turned to see a little French boy playing with what appeared to be a Mills 45 bomb in his hands. A Mills 45 is what is now more commonly known as a grenade. Without thought or fear, Doug heroically rushed over to try to get the bomb from the boy hands when suddenly it exploded. He was seriously injured in the explosion losing his left eye from shards from the blast. The available records do not detail the fate of the young lad…however one can at best presume the worst.

Private Douglas Bernard Carr, returned to Canada, married Pansy Colborne and together they raised a family in Ohio. It was certain that the wounds Doug carried back home could never heal. One must imagine the shock from that blast…the blurred image of an injured child forever imprinted in his mind. Add the horrors that he experiences in the trenches, in the final 100 Days…a virtual bloodbath for the 116th battalion. Lost pals. Voices who would never respond to the final roll call. Add all those scenes and have them compete in his dreams against the time he beat the rest of the Canadian Corps in a sniping rifle competition. It didn’t have a chance. Yet…this is the exact reason why the men sought to remember the good….to never speak of the horrors then endured. With the passage of time….one can only hope that the Legion Hall in Bala forever echoed with the good stories…like the one constantly recounted and repeated…with joy and laughter… about how the time in 1917 when their ‘one-eyed’ local lad and Legion member won the prize as Top Sniper in the Canadian Corps Rifle Competition.

Doug died in Bala on June 22, 1957 and is buried at Burgess Cemetery

Private James Laidlaw Gowanlock

James Laidlaw Gowanlock

643883

Born – Port Elgin ON, 1888, Age 29

Lived in Atherley, ON

Killed in Action on Aug 24, 1917 – in the Battle of Hill 70

Buried at Aix-Noulette Communal Cemetery, France

It was a tragedy. In so many ways. A battle ignored by historians for years and only received scant and sparse attention for almost a full century after its’ occurrence. Early historians first counted 3035 casualties in the 11 day operation. However, 60 years would pass until Tim Cook, in his 2009 book Shock Troops, updated the impact to between 9,198 and 11,000 casualties with an estimated 1052 succumbing to their injuries. This was the Battle for Hill 70. Apart from the over 1000 families who mourned lost loved ones during the encounter, one family in particular was hit the hardest. The family was the Orillia-based, Gowanlock family.

The Gowanlock family were farmers. They originally emigrated from the border district of Scotland and England in the early 1840 and settled on the shores of Lake Huron in Port Elgin. One of the sons, Andrew along with his wife Betsy (Elizabeth) raised a family of 4 sons and 1 daughter in the beautiful rural lakeside setting. However, shortly after Andrew died, the boys decided to move to Atherley, a small village situated close to Orillia. With the war enlistment drives ramping up in the summer of 1915, the eldest, Robert George Gowanlock signed up with the 34th Battalion. Shortly after on January 26, 1916, his younger brother James put his name to paper and joined the 157th Simcoe Foresters Battalion. The Gowanlock family also included William and younger brother Andrew along with sister Jessie. Being the eldest, married and father to three children, William elected to stay home in Canada, work the farm in support of his family.

The first brother to departed to the front was Robert. He arrived in England in November 1915. Meanwhile, James spent his Spring and Summer of 1916 training in Canada with the 157th. It was during this time, the 157th helped build Camp Borden. In the October of 1916, James and his fellow Simcoe Foresters climbed aboard the SS Cameronia and so too went overseas to fight for their country. A little more than a month later he was transferred to the 116th Battalion. Meanwhile, back home as the family patriarch, it was William’s responsibility to tend to the farm, support and feed his family while also helping to contribute to Canada’s war effort from home.

The tragedy behind the Gowanlock family started with events occurring in the early days of the Battle for Hill 70. Robert had been transferred a few times and ended up serving in the 2nd Battalion assigned to a tunneling detail. It was on the third day of the battle when Robert was killed. Details are not clear on the nature and specific circumstances of his death however the 2nd was called to help relieve the 13th, 15th and 16th Battalions in the northern section of the theatre. This section fought back a fierce German raid that included an array of both bombs and flamethrowers. 22 2nd Battalion men lost their lives in the encounter along with 104 wounded men. Robert was included in this casualty count. Notice of Robert’s death arrived in Canada shortly thereafter with William receiving the dreadful telegram. One can imaging that this loss had on the close-knit Scottish family…however the news for the family was going to quickly get worse.

The Canadians, lead by Major General Currie, had made significant progress on the attack on Hill 70. While the casualties incurred by his men were not insignificant, it should be noted that the initial advance of the hill was quite successful, with the CEF pushing back wave after wave of German counterattacks. The total number of casualties recorded by the German vary greatly with the upwards number of between 12-15,000 men. With each wave and each haymaker served by either side respectively, the collective losses began to pile up. This was the primary reason why on Aug 22nd, the 116th left their blissful rest at Auchel and joined their compatriots at Lens.

The 116th was ordered to relieve the 27th Battalion. On the 21st of August, the Winnipeg-based unit was manning a section called the Chicory Trench. It was here just on the edge of the western approach to Lens where an advance was planned against the German positions. However, before our men could make any progress, the ready and alert Germans showered our troops with shellfire leading to a men versus men, steel against steel, angry rage clashed with angry rage donnybrook in the urban approached to the city. At the end of the day 47 Winnipeggers lay dead or missing and an astounding 248 men wounded in action. Beaten and battle-weary, the 27th was more than happy to see the well-rested men of the 116th swiftly join the fray and give them relief on the 22nd.

It was two days later when amidst the urban hellscape and his 116th patrolling captured former German positions where James Laidlaw Gowanlock was killed. Only 8 days and 3500 yards separated the places where the two brothers fell. It is not certain if James learned of his brother’s death prior to joining his battalion mates in the trenches at Lens, however it is certain that another sorrowful blow would hit the Gowanlock family back home. In a little more than a week after hearing that Robert died, with a second knock at the door and the delivery of a second telegram, the Gowanlock family would come to learn that James was killed too.

The story behind the Gowanlock family represents the tragedy of the war that is often overlooked in our accounts of the past. Loss impacted the survivors in so many different ways. Some were able to, with the support of their friends, family and fellow citizens, come to accept their loss and rebuild their lives surrounded by the ones who remained. Others’ were not so lucky. In September of 1919, a little more than 2 years after learning that both of his brothers were killed in combat, William also died. The cause of his death is referenced as ‘carcinoma of the liver precipitated by exhaustion’. I am not a doctor and may not be entirely certain, however it does point to potential attempt by William to medicate and deal with his loss with alcohol. True or not, it still points to another loss caused by the war and yet another awful tragedy for the Gowanlock family.

Remember them. Lest we forget.

Private Alfred Osborn Hopwood Litherland

Private Alfred Osborn Hopwood Litherland

678033

Father of 5 – Aged 41

Born London, England

Lived in Toronto, ON

Killed on July 23rd, 1917 in the raid at Fosse 4 at Avion, France

It was passed from man to man, from dugout to dugout. From beneath the light of a flickering candle, gripping the blunt pencil, each man used it in the search for something to say. They have been writing letters home since they arrived in both England and France, however this letter was going to be different. They had been serving as a reserve battalion for each of the other attacks…every one since Vimy. They watched as the other battalions going over the top, with fewer men returning after it was all over. It was not that the 116th did not know death, 31 fellow soldiers, mates from their own platoon or from neighbouring ones had died this far in the campaign. Some of the men even attended the graveside ceremonies. Others were tasked at carrying back the bodies of their stricken mates to areas in reserve. Death was not new to the men of the 116th…however most of the deaths they had experienced were random in nature. Death from above. Death by an artillery shell that just happened to hit them when they happened to be in the place when the shell decided to burst. It was all rather random and relatively unexpected. This time was going to be different.

The date written on the top of the letter was July 21st, 1917. After spending ten days and nights practicing for the raid, he was now in one of the forward trenches, pencil and paper in hand searching for something to say. He was writing to Annie, his wife and mother of his five children. Five children? Yes, his eldest was Leo. He was already 16 years of age and was closer to the average age of the men serving in the trenches than himself. His youngest was Loretto. A beautiful baby girl who he never met. She was born after he departed for war. He was Alfred Osborn Hopwood Litherland. A wee man…5 ft 1 ½ in height and barely weighed 110 lbs. The native of London, England and now resident of Toronto ON was 40 years of age and was heading off to war.

While the story about his decision to go only resides in the memories passed down from his family, at his age he surely could have sought an exemption. In Jan 1916 there were scores of young men queuing along the approaches to the Recruitment Offices in towns across the country. Yet probably due to his prior military experience and sense of duty, Alfred decided to leave his grossly pregnant wife and four (almost five) children behind and join the cause. Alfred started his tour with the 169th Battalion, based out of Toronto, and was transferred to the 116th in January of 1917. He joined the men as they were sent over to France on February 11th.

The Battalion Diary does not go into substantial detail on what the men did two days before the attack. However, thankfully and tragically we do have a record of the final words written by Alfred to his wife Annie. She shared them with a local Toronto newspaper, passing along new from the front. In the letter Alfred let her know that his battalion was planning on a big attack and looking to settle her concerns, his note expounded that “I am going to advance with the best heart possible, tomorrow will be a great day for our battalion. I guess a few of us will shake tomorrow, and it will soon be over, whichever way it had to be. Don’t take this letter too seriously, everyone does not get killed of injured, so you see I’ve the same chance as everybody else.”

As a bricklayer with 5 kids at home, one can forgive Alfred for not having enough time to brush up on his Austen inspired romantic skills with the pencil. However, one can presume that his regular letters back home would more accurately reflect his concern for how Annie was managing to raise the brood by herself while he was off serving. He seemed like a caring man. A realist. An optimist. In a copy of his last will and testament, the other surviving document written by Alfred, he attested with compassion and concern that his wife receive everything he had possessed. He did love and care for his dear Annie.

With the signing of that note and the passing of the pencil to the next gent in the line, the rest was up to fate, chance and history. His body was never recovered. It is not clear if he was part of B or C Company and may have died engaged in hand-to-hand combat with the enemy as they sought to take the Railway Embankment after passing the mountainous slag heap. Or he may have been with D Company that relived the men in B and C, only to fight off a determined German counterattack…many returning safely to the trenches, many not. Either way, and this one is certain, as the battalion returned to the Canadian trenches, out there…in the darkness lay the body of a soldier, the father of five, the loving, caring husband of an understanding and supportive wife. Alfred Osborn Hopwood Litherland…Remember him.

Lance Sergeant William Fell

Lance Sergeant William George Arthur Fell

679254

Born Montreal Quebec in 1883

Lived at 438 Clendenan Ave. Toronto, ON

Killed in Action – July 23rd, 1917 at the attack on Fosse 4 at Avion, France

Commemorated on Vimy Memorial, Vimy France.

“But does that mean there is a chance that daddy’s ok?”

Hope was all she had. Despite the seemingly slim chances, there was still a chance. On or about Aug 17th, the news travelled across from France to Toronto to inform Inazetta that her husband, Bill had been wounded in battle. The letters informed her that Lance Sergeant William “Bill” George Arthur Fell had received a bullet wound just above the heart while the 116th Ontario County Battalion was engaged in a raid. The raid near the town of Avion in France was the bloodletting that the senior brass executed to test the battalion and see if the boys were up to the task of future missions. It was during this exercise, just after 1am on the morning of July 23rd, 1917, where he was wounded in the field.

The letter detailed that “Long before you have, of course, heard of Sergt Fell of having been wounded. The sergeant who dressed his wounds tells me that “Bill” went out with a bombing party as scout-sergeant and received a bullet wound just above the heart, the ball passing clean through his body, but he is in good condition.”

These would be the best worst news that Inazetta could hear. The family breadwinner, the father of her 5 year old daughter Verna was seriously injured but would be, should be ok. That is all she heard. Then…silence. A full month would pass by before the next letter with more details would arrive. In the meantime, there would be no letters sent home from Bill. Just silence and worry. News of the deaths of other men from his original battalion, the 169th would arrive. Toronto natives, 40 year old Alfred Litherland and 27 year old Frederick Gouldsbrough were recorded as having been killed in the same raid.

On September 15th a letter promising hope arrived from Bill’s brother Arthur. Arthur and Bill were very close and worked together in Toronto. Bill was a master painter and decorator, while Arthur worked alongside him in his business. Bill was also active in the community and was a prominent member of the Stanley Freemason Lodge rising to the Senior Warden’s chair before enlisting for the war effort. The letter from Arthur provided additional colour to his injuries. He validated that William was indeed wounded in the chest…however, while he was out in the field with four stretcher bearers, none of the 5 men returned. In addition, none of their remains nor their badges nor any evidence that they were killed was recovered. Arthur indicated that it was suspected that the men wandered into German lines, while looking for help for Bill and were all taken prisoner.

Now place oneself into the shoes of Inazetta and her daughter. It must have been a most torturous time for their family. They knew that their father and husband has received a bullet wound to his chest, in the area just above his heart. That had to be the most severe of injuries. They must have known that his chances of survival were slim…and they would start to emotionally deal with his loss when another letter would arrive indicating that there was still a chance he was going to be ok. The emotional rollercoaster they were on must have been sheer torture.

One more month would pass before the official news would come from the Department of Records. On Oct 3rd, 1917 Lance Sergeant William Fell was declared “missing”. Not “missing and presumed dead”…”missing”. The letters from family and friends was one thing…however now the army itself was indicating that Bill might still be alive.

The winter of 1917 descended upon Toronto and the men of the battalion engaged in more combat…first helping take Hill 70 in August, then joining the final push to take Passchendaele in November. Meanwhile, the letters that promised hope would start to tail off. December…nothing arrived. January would arrive and still no new news. Meanwhile, Inazetta and Verna would have to go to bed each night being comforted by the fleeting hope that good news would soon arrive. Yet, finally, on the last day of February, the worst, but probably the update they most expected arrived. The Department of Records expressed that in spite of “exhaustive inquiries” they “have failed to discover any grounds which would justify the assumption that Serg. William Fell may still be alive.” With that declaration, on March 5, 1918 in the Toronto Evening Telegram Lance Sergeant William George Arthur Fell was declared ‘wounded, presumed dead’.

Another casualty of the great war. Another soldier from the 116th who would not return home. Another child who would grow up without her father. Remember him.

Lest we forget.

Private Roy George Switzer

Private Roy George Switzer

679188

Aged 20, Born 1895, Toronto Ontario

Lived on 447 Church St, Toronto ON

Killed in Action on August 24th in the Battle for Hill 70

His Ma would have been so proud of her boy. For so many things. At the tender age of 18 he had just graduated high school and was already working in the Canadian finance industry. His first job was selling insurance for Travellers Insurance. Interestingly, 106 years have passed since he resigned his position to sign up in the Canadian Expeditionary Force and his former employee is still one of the largest insurance companies in the world. Yet, at the time the dapper young man was quickly on his way to carving a promising future out for himself. His daily regimen would have included donning a smart, suit and tie. Shining his dress shoes to a sparkle and heading into the office. While Toronto, at the time was nowhere near they colossal crammed behemoth that it is today, his commute into work would still be quite the trek. From his house on Church Street in the heart of today’s Gay District, he would have required him to take either a long walk or hop on the trolly to transport him into the downtown Toronto Financial district.

Towering in at 6 ft 1 inches, he would have been a most impressive young lad ready to take on the world. And yet while he was only just at the starting line of life, the desire to serve, the pressure from friends, family, former classmates and society in general meant when the battalion brass band sounded, he immediately joined the queue to enlist. Was he going to give it al up? Of course he was and…really, he couldn’t not. On Feb 7th, 1916 at the age of 18 Roy George Switzer signed up to fight with the Toronto-based 169th Battalion.

Roy George Switzer was the eldest son of Mary Switzer and brother to 9 year old Anna. His father, George, had passed away from tuberculosis a few years earlier in 1912 and left Roy being the main breadwinner for the family. While his mother was British, his father and grandfather were born in Canada, his ancestry was German. Thus, growing up with the name Switzer, it might have been another reason why he wanted to prove his loyalty to Canada and attest with the CEF.

The 169th travelled to England in Oct of 1916. It was here where Roy continued his training to become ready to right as a soldier. On New Years Eve, Dec 31st 1916 he was transferred to the 116th. As a smart, young and energetic young private it would have been an easy decision to ask him to consider a leadership position with the battalion. However, to be truthful, an NCO who responded to a German name might have caused some consternation amongst the brass. Which leads us to review an anomaly found in his available history. We will visit the nature and timing of his passing shortly, yet Roy George Switzer has a claim to have two gravestones. He was buried in Aix-Noulette Communal Cemetery located in the town of Aix-Nouletter situated to the West of the city of Lens. His family also decided to create a memorial to ‘Corporal’ Roy Switzer. This rests today in Mount Pleasant Cemetery in Toronto. It was interesting that the family of Roy decided to give him a promotion in rank at the time of his memorialization. However, contemporary notices of his death on Sept 12th referred to his rank as a Lance Corporal. Whether he be a full corporal or a junior Lance Corporal, his service records only listed his rank as an ordinary Private.

A second discovery relates to how his mother was surprised upon receiving notice that her son has been killed in France. Her position was how could this be if he was just being treated in hospital for an ailment. Upon receiving notice of his death she remarked “I thought he was in hospital”. It was not clear if he told his mother in the most recent letter she received from him, however he was suffering from a bout of the highly contagious scabies and even missed the great raid at Fosse 4 in Avion while recovering in hospital from the nasty skin condition. What his mother did not know was that he did recover, returned to his battalion on August 1st, 1917 and the battalion soon was transferred to the front at Lens to assist in the attack on Hill 70.

Over 12 days from Aug 21st to Sept 2nd, the 116th lost 20 men while serving at the front at Hill 70. A closer examination of this battle will follow in the next few weeks, however it was the equivalent of the four companies of the 116th, along with numerous battalions from the 2nd Canadian division fighting an inner-city campaign in the middle of a entirely wrecked cityscape. Instead of trenches, the men fought from behind pile of ruined bricks, smashed buildings, from within partially destroyed cellars and always under the threat of being hit by exploding bricks hit by exploding shellfire. It was a lesser-known Canadian campaign that costs the CEF almost 1000 men killed and more than twice that wounded.

On the 24th of August, somewhere in the destroyed urban battlefield, Private (or Corporal or Lance Corporal) George Switzer was killed. The exact nature and circumstances of his death are not known…however thankfully his body was recovered and is interred at Aix Noulette Communical Cemetery in Aix Noulette France.

Remember him.

Private Douglas Bernard Carr

Private Douglas Bernard Carr

228161

Enlisted in the 201st Battalion, served in 169th and 116th Battalion

Born Bala, ON

Died Bala, ON - June 22, 1957

How would you respond to the question if you were him?

“Yes, it was a heck of a scrap…but I made it home and it wasn’t all bad.”

“Yes, but it was an accident. It is ok…a have another one in perfectly working order on the other side”

“One day my son…I will tell you all about it.”

Chances are high that the third response was never uttered. For when the sounds of the guns grew quiet and the wounds were bandaged up and left to mend and the boys returned home, the horrors of the war were left behind. Only scars remained etched on the bodies, minds and souls of the men as they took their place back in society.

As the ships made their return journey, the transition amongst the men began. Most returned to their former communities and homes. They went back to their families with many reacquainting themselves with the sweethearts they left behind. Normalcy slowly returned. Thoughts of the past would be crowded out by new priorities, of wives, children and careers. Over the years, the boys of the 116th and their CEF brethren would come to gather, recollect and reminisce. The Royal Canadian Legion was founded in 1925 to give these men a place and setting where they could collectively heal. It was also a spot where over a beer and a smoke, friends would chat among friends. It was part of the healing process. Convention relates that these settings were places of laughter, comfort and safety where the men could revisit the fun and good times that so often represented their time in the trenches. Memories of pranks and pitfalls. Glorious times spent on leave or just the lads being lads at rest and at play. They would repeat the rollicking accounts of the times in reserve when their platoon scored a brilliant goal in the dying seconds of a football game or another where a mate knocked the ball out of the park in the Brigade baseball tournament. These were the times, the experience and memories that the men strived hard to remember.

One of these events that was most likely to be recited over pints for years after the war occurred late in the summer of 1917. It was the Brigade Rifle Competition that took place on Aug 9th. Platoons from such notable battalions like the RCRs, the Princess Pats, the 42nd Royal Highland Regiment or fellow 9th Brigade battalions like the 58th, 43rd and 52nd competed for the prize of Best Individual and Team in Marksmanship…and it was for the chance to represent the 3rd Division in the Corps Competition. One of the men who took the prize as top sniper was a 19 yr old student from Bala, ON in Muskoka. His name was Douglas Bernard Carr.

Obviously, the details behind his victory are only left as distant echo’s resonating from within the Bala Royal Canadian Legion Hall. However, one can imagine the cheering, the hooting and hollering as the young 5 ft 7 northerner calmly and from progressively further distances scored direct hits on the targets. The 116th were the newbies in the Corps…the youngest battalion to join the fight. The old hands who came to watch the competition would surely ask “Didn’t these lads just have their baptism a couple weeks ago?” It was during the raid on Avion on July 23rd, a mere 16 days ago, where the brass decided to toss them into the fray to see how well they would perform? They called it being ”bloodied”? And now, in the main competition for the best overall individual and overall team performance in Marksmanship, the 116th Battalion and their top shooter Private Douglas Carr were at the forefront taking the top prize!

As the years went on and the men reunited with their mates from the battalion, they would certainly raise a glass in the honour of their ‘one-eyed’ sharpshooter! One-eyed? Huh? Wha? How could that be? Stories would have been made up to account for both the victory and the lost eye. However, it was probable that the ‘real story’ did not make it to a round of cheers…despite it being as or more worthy than winning the contest. The tragedy of the real story was probably left where it should be… buried alongside their fallen brethren in France and Belgium. One-eyed Doug Carr didn’t win the shooting competition with only one eye. He made it through Hill 70, Passchendaele, the Spring Offensive, Amiens and Boiry-Notre Dame with both of them. It was only at Artillery Hill on the 28th of August where he was made a casualty of the war after his position was hit by gas. While certainly being irritated from the noxious substance, he made it all the way to November 11th with both eyeballs. Yet…as the years progressed and he supped from his pint glass and drew a puff from his smoke with his mates, he did so through only one eye. The question…whether it be by friends, family and most certainly inquisitive youngsters, asked would probably include…”Mr. Carr, how did you lose your eye in the war?”

Private Carr’s real story is as or more tragic and heroic than one could imagine. It was on the 15th of December, barely a month after the war ended where Doug and his friend Fred Smith were waiting for a bus in the town of Valenciennes. The pair were hanging out on the corner in front of the bus station and enjoying the relaxed freedom that comes with peace and victory. It was at this time, where Doug heard a sound behind him. It was the carefree joyous laughter of youth. Instinctively, he turned to see a little French boy playing with what appeared to be a Mills 45 bomb in his hands. A Mills 45 is what is now more commonly known as a grenade. Without thought or fear, Doug heroically rushed over to try to get the bomb from the boy hands when suddenly it exploded. He was seriously injured in the explosion losing his left eye from shards from the blast. The available records do not detail the fate of the young lad…however one can at best presume the worst.

Private Douglas Bernard Carr, returned to Canada, married Pansy Colborne and together they raised a family in Ohio. It was certain that the wounds Doug carried back home could never heal. One must imagine the shock from that blast…the blurred image of an injured child forever imprinted in his mind. Add the horrors that he experiences in the trenches, in the final 100 Days…a virtual bloodbath for the 116th battalion. Lost pals. Voices who would never respond to the final roll call. Add all those scenes and have them compete in his dreams against the time he beat the rest of the Canadian Corps in a sniping rifle competition. It didn’t have a chance. Yet…this is the exact reason why the men sought to remember the good….to never speak of the horrors then endured. With the passage of time….one can only hope that the Legion Hall in Bala forever echoed with the good stories…like the one constantly recounted and repeated…with joy and laughter… about how the time in 1917 when their ‘one-eyed’ local lad and Legion member won the prize as Top Sniper in the Canadian Corps Rifle Competition.

Doug died in Bala on June 22, 1957 and is buried at Burgess Cemetery.

Sergeant Oliver Cecil Drew

Sergeant Oliver Cecil Drew

745308

Born Cannington, ON

Killed in action July 23,1917 Avion Raid on Fosse 4

Commemorated on Vimy Memorial

You probably haven’t been there.  It is a speck of a town.  The place is called Woodville.  Today it is known for its’ farm auction whereby local farmers bid on and purchase cows, sheep, goats or pick out hens and roosters out of cardboard boxes in a parking lot.  At the back of the barn is a little coffee shop that is a perfect place to get the kids a hot chocolate on a cool fall day.  If you visited the place 100 years ago, the only thing different would be the readily available warm beverage…otherwise time has not ticked by.  In the year 1915, Woodville, Ontario had a couple churches, a general store, some feed supply depots and the obligatory schoolhouse.  As farmers and their wives had to find tactics to make it through the long, cold winters the result of their efforts to stay warm was often a healthy stable of youngsters needing to be educated.  Thus, this town turned out to the be perfect place for University of Toronto graduate and resident of nearby Cannington, Ontario, teacher Oliver Cecil Drew, to find a job.  At 23 years of age, Oliver would have had a few years of teaching under his belt when the winds of war reached their sleepy town.

Akin to the opening scenes documented in one of the best war films (and books) ever produced, All Quiet on the Western Front, one can imagine Mr. Drew pacing up and down the aisles in their town school-house preaching the need for his young students to commit to one day in the service of their country.  Teachers were often the best resource for use by the military to help in their recruitment efforts…however in this case the recruiter himself became recruited.  In the late fall of 1915, Oliver Drew signed up at his hometown recruiting depot and joined the 116th Canadian Infantry Battalion. 

Once in the battalion, Oliver showed himself to be an eager and committed soldier.  Proving himself as a possible leader of men he was appointed Acting Sergeant the very day he boarded the SS Olympic as the Battalion disembarked to Liverpool.  His appointment was formally confirmed a few days before Battle of Vimy Ridge.  All of his training and preparation and the significant time he spent alongside the men in his platoon in the trenches and barracks would soon need to be put into service.  3rd Division and 9th Brigade Leadership had a plan for the 116th.  The unit was green and untested, and with the upcoming drives against the enemy being planned, they needed to ensure that this unit could be relied upon when it counted. 

The test would consist of a midnight raid conducted by the entire battalion against a perceived weak spot in the German line, just east of the town of Avion.  Zero hour was 1:00am on July 23rd, 1917.  The defined objective would be two-fold…the initial objective were the German front line trenches situated in front of a coal slag heap. After successfully capturing the trench with their protectors eliminated, the secondary and final objective was to be a raised railway transportation corridor situated 300 yards to the rear of the German front line.  For this operation, Sergeant Drew would serve as Platoon Sergeant in his B Company.  This meant he assisted the Lieutenant in command of the unit (50 men) and would have been responsible for one of the typical for sections.  While it differed depending on the planned operation, each section would have included scouts, bombers, Lewis gunners, stretcher bearers and riflemen.    Drew’s orders, as part of B Company, was to follow A Company once it reached the first line of German Trenches.  Once achieved, Drew’s job was to lead his team across the 3 football-field long approach to the railway.  Once in position, Drew would be at the forefront in leading the men in eliminating the enemy guarding the position, then consolidate and then hold it while waiting for members of D Company to relive them. 

B Company swiftly reached the German front line trenches and moved around the slag heap.  Now was his time for Sergeant Drew to show his mettle and lead his team towards the final objective.  Their orders were upon reaching the raised rail corridor, take and employ mobile charged at each end flank of the railway while killing or taking the men holding it prisoner.  The men in question, were the newly arrived troops from the 61st German Landwehr Regiment.  Details about this encounter are vague with only tales from the soldiers who made it back to confirm the veracity of the story.  However, it was recorded that the 116th introduction to modern warfare cumulated in a face to face, hand to hand, steel against steel, grit against grit bloody clash between men.  In the bleak darkness, only the sounds of their struggle would remain in the memories of the survivors.  Flashes of very lights and the blasts from artillery would provide fleeting vignettes of the contest.  While the memory of the encounter probably echoed in the participants nightmares for years, it was probably lasted a short duration.  After a little bit less that three hours holding the position in the darkness, the survivors would move back to the Canadian lines.  It was here when the stories of the tragic victory would begin to be told coloured by the valiant tales of bravery and gallantry.  The 116th was successful in their first true test…yet achieved with the blood, life and spirit of one of their youngest and most respected N.C.O.’s Sergeant Oliver Cecil Drew…the Cannington native and school-teacher from Woodville.

Sergeant Oliver Cecil Drew is memorialized on the Vimy Memorial in Vimy France. 

Lest we forget.

Private William Joseph Gethons

Private William Joseph Gethons

745529

Born – Longford Mills, ON

Died Nov 14, 1918

Buried at Columbkille Cemetery, Uptergrove, ON

I must have driven past it a million times but it was only until recently when I noticed the accompanying cemetery. As part of this project of discovery, research and recognition I have been dragging my family around cemeteries across Ontario in search of the final resting places of the men of the 116th. Millions of decedents of Great War soldiers travel to France and Belgium on an annual basis to visit the battlefields and the countless cemeteries that contain the remains of the men who fell upon those fields. Fewer Canadians, however, make the same effort to visit and recognize the sacrifice of the men who made it back. Most of the soldiers who returned from France were able to live a long and fruitful life. However many fell victim to the wounds and illnesses received during their time of service. One such brave Canadian soldier died three days after the war ended.

It was on a recent drive from my family cottage ‘into town’ where I followed the well trod route, looked to my right and recalled seeing a series of monuments jutting out of the ground in the distance. The cemetery is situated to the side of a prominent Catholic church located in the hamlet of Uptergrove, Ontario…just south east of Orillia. Veering off onto the shoulder and ‘doing a U-ey’ to the groans on one daughter and the hurrah’s of the other, we ventured up the long drive to check for some gravestones brandishing the battalion name “116th“. It was within a few minutes of wandering through the tall grass where we found him. Situated in a most prominent place, closest to the entrance of the cathedral, lay his final remains. The soldier was the 26 year old, Private William Joseph Gethons.

It was on April 15th in the Spring of 1916 where the 24 yr old lad from Longford Mills decided to make the journey to Beaverton and enlist with the 116th. On the surface he was a healthy young man. Standing a tall 5 ft 10 ½ and weighing in at 150 lbs, he was a larger lad than most of his friends and fellow enlistees. It was soon after he joined up where he learned that his spirit would prove to be stronger than his body. In order to help raise the prominence and awareness of the battalion, the men of the 116th completed a march around and across Ontario County. When the battalion reached Beaverton, William would fall into line and complete the march in full gear down the dusty roads to Oshawa, then back up to Uxbridge. Approximately 1000 local men, clad in their khakis’ were divided up into four companies and stretched out to make the 106km long journey. By the time William arrived at Oshawa, he would report to the medical staff complaining of breathing problems. These continued and further expounded when the battalion reached Camp Niagara for training. It was here where the soldier was diagnosed to have tuberculosis and was sent to a sanitorium.

William would have been distraught both by his illness and by having to see the battalion he so wanted to be part of leave and make its’ way to England and France. While recuperating, one would certainly assume that he would be following the regular reports of how his battalion was faring over in France. The Orillia Packet provided in-depth and regular reports in its newspaper detailing the prominent achievements, notable injuries and tragic deaths of local lads. From his bed, as news of the great victories attained on the battlefield in the late summer and autumn of 1918 made it over Canada, the health of the soldier continued to deteriorate. And with each forceful drive made by the 116th and the CEF, the illness William so valiantly battled also began to claim its’ own victory. It was three days after the sounds of the guns drew to a silence, when the breaths he so laboured to make also became silenced. On the 14th of November in the year 1918 Private William Joseph Gethons died. Another casualty of the Great War and someone worthy of having a middle-aged man with two teenaged girls in tow do a u-ey along Highway 12 just south of Orillia and pay his overdue and well-deserved respect to the final remains of the former soldier.

Please make your own trip to visit Private William Gethons…and don’t forget his battalion mates who also rest in perpetuity in cemeteries all across this great country.

Lest we forget.

Private Ambrose Archer

Private Ambrose Vincent Archer

644413

Born, Waverly ON

Lived in Midland ON

Killed at Avion – Fosse 4 Raid on July 23, 1917

The trek up 93 must have been a cold one.  Being the depths of February, the frigid gusts whipping across the frozen field would have caused the average man to give it a second thought.  But these were hearty, young lads from the hamlet of Waverley. A quaint farming town in the middle of farming country.  In spite of the circumstances, the ride north whether it be via beast or buggy it would have been a chilly venture.  They were heading up to Midland.  The 157th Simcoe and Foresters Battalion was in town and recruiting men for the Great War.  On the morning of Feb 10th, 1916, four men from town travelled north to Midland to enlist.  Ambrose Vincent Archer was one of them.

Ambrose Archer was a well-built farm boy.  At 19 years of age, he stood 5 ft 10 inches and was a sturdy 180 pounds.  They feed them well in farm country.  In the spring and summer of 1916, his youth and strength would have been put to good use by the battalion as they worked to build Camp Borden.  The records detail that the training was rather limited as they did not have many rifles to work with…thus mimicking how they did it a few years prior, they prepared for one of the most dreadful and technologically advanced war every conducted by practicing with sticks. 

Ambrose joined the battalion as they travelled to England in the fall arriving in port at Liverpool on the 28th of October.  Within a month, Ambrose, along with many of his mates from the 157th were transferred to the 116th.  Following a series of attacks on the front sought of Arras and Vimy down to Avion, the 116th had been acting as reserve or supporting troops for many of the engagement.  They would stand by while men from the 43rd, 52nd and 58th took the lead.  However, coming out of the capture of the Avion Trench in late June, the brass up top found a good test for the 116th.  The battalion would conduct a major raid on a German trench system on the east side of the town of Avion.

Starting at Zero Hour at 1:00am on July 23rd, 800 men of the 116th went over the top.  In the darkness, the pathway was only lit by very lights soaring above and the ever-present flashes of artillery.  Amongst the shadows, the men stumbled forward looking taking out as many Germans as they could while grabbing as many prisoners as possible.  And between the scramble over the top and the dash back an hour and half later, the 116th fought like demons.  From marching back and forth in the training grounds to gritting it out in hand-to-hand combat…this was their baptism with real modern warfare on the western front.  The details behind his story will never be known…he could have been the one who took momentary honours in the brutal darkness of the trenches or he could have been the unlucky recipient of an errant chunk of flying shell on his return…yet the end was the same.  At roll call, he did not call out his name.  Private Archer Ambrose fell sometime on the night of July 23rd and his remains were never recovered.  His name remains forever etched in marble at the Vimy Memorial. 

Lest we forget.