As I have written before, there was very little that I knew about my extended family. However, two things I DID know were (1) that my maternal grandfather had served in the Boer War and that (2) a great uncle had died in WWI. Like so many other treasures that have been discovered thanks to genealogy and the opening up of records, in the years since I began tracing my family roots I have added to those two sparse facts.
First, my maternal grandfather. Tracing how and where he served in the Boer War was a challenge until I found out that, instead of living in Scotland as he had always maintained, he had grown up in a small village in Lancashire called Hoddlesden. According to the 1891 census, he was still at school at the age of 8 but his brother, aged 10, was already a warehouse boy at the cotton mill and his other brother, aged 13, was a reacher in. There is no doubt that, in the years that followed, Grandfather went to work at the mill too. Then the Boer War happened. According to reports in local newspapers that I read when I visited the area, the War was much romanticized as was the East Lancashire Regiment. At the age of 16.5 Grandfather enlisted with the Regiment in July of 1899 along with 5000 other young men that year. It is interesting to me that the enlistment papers say "apparent age 18 years." This says to me that the Army wasn't too fussy about verifying true ages.
Grandfather was 5'4" at the time of enlistment--not much taller than I am now. He weighed 122 pounds. He went to South Africa in February of 1900 and stayed there for two years, returning in March of 1902, a few months before the war ended. He earned three campaign medals--medals awarded to all soldiers who participated in the campaigns. I have no idea where they went to; I never saw them. My grandfather died when I was 2.5 so I hardly knew him at all. My older second cousin, however, told me that Grandfather would occasionally talk about the war with my great uncle. Mostly about the discomfort of being in Africa with the heat and the insects. He turned 17 whilst out in Africa. When he returned, he remained in the Army as a reservist. According to his enlistment papers, he went to Canada as a reservist in 1907. He was honorably discharged from the British Army in 1911, in Canada.
When World War I broke out in 1914, Grandfather would have been 32. He was still young enough to have enlisted but there is no record that he did so. He had settled in Canada by this time and worked for the Grand Trunk Railway. Having seen war in South Africa, I wouldn't have been surprised if Grandfather had no interest in fighting another war. He had a wife, a little girl, a good life in Canada. Sail back to a land where he had so much sadness, where he had already served his country? Probably not.
My father's side of the family: Dad often told a story of my grandfather opening a letter from his family in Scotland during World War I and crying out "Tom! Tom! Tom's dead." Dad understood that one of Grandpa's brothers had been killed but Dad didn't know more than that--or if he did, he didn't share anything more with me. Dad said that as soon as Grandpa Campbell had read his letters from Scotland, he burned them. Dad asked Grandpa why he did that and Grandpa said it was because those letters were no one else's business but his own. Sad, really.
Anyway, once I began tracing Dad's family tree on the International Genealogical Index, I found that Grandpa had had a brother named Thomas but he didn't die in World War I. He lived until at least 1940. So who was it that died in World War I? Grandpa had four brothers in all, Thomas, David, Sylvester and Duncan. I knew that David had moved to the United States and died shortly before my grandfather in the 1960s. Sylvester died in Scotland in 1977. That left Duncan. But how could I find his military record?
In September 2001, our family went to Dundee for a holiday. I had found out which cemetery my great grandparents were buried in. I went to the Records Office and was given their lair number in Balgay Cemetery. It took us awhile to find the right grave as so many stones were broken and fallen over. Finally we found the right lair, the headstone broken in three pieces. With great difficulty (headstones are HEAVY) we pieced the stones together and read the inscription. Apart from my great grandparents and my great aunt there was the reference to "Duncan Campbell, husband of Barbara Beat, died October 20, 1918, buried in Grevillers Cemetery, France."
So the family mystery was solved and I had more bare facts. But the best was yet to come. In the summer of 2009 I was contacted by someone who had seen my family tree on Ancestry. He was a cousin of Barbara Beat, Duncan's wife. Barbara had never remarried and her daughter Agnes had never married at all. So Barbara's effects had come to him. In those effects were a few photos and, wonderfully, some letters that Duncan had written to Barbara from the Front. Through those letters I finally had a glimpse of my unknown great uncle and the warm and wonderful family he came from. Those mysterious dour Scots that my father alluded to--they weren't dour at all. Why Grandpa had denied Dad the opportunity to know his uncles and cousins I will never know; at least not in this life.
First, my maternal grandfather. Tracing how and where he served in the Boer War was a challenge until I found out that, instead of living in Scotland as he had always maintained, he had grown up in a small village in Lancashire called Hoddlesden. According to the 1891 census, he was still at school at the age of 8 but his brother, aged 10, was already a warehouse boy at the cotton mill and his other brother, aged 13, was a reacher in. There is no doubt that, in the years that followed, Grandfather went to work at the mill too. Then the Boer War happened. According to reports in local newspapers that I read when I visited the area, the War was much romanticized as was the East Lancashire Regiment. At the age of 16.5 Grandfather enlisted with the Regiment in July of 1899 along with 5000 other young men that year. It is interesting to me that the enlistment papers say "apparent age 18 years." This says to me that the Army wasn't too fussy about verifying true ages.
Grandfather was 5'4" at the time of enlistment--not much taller than I am now. He weighed 122 pounds. He went to South Africa in February of 1900 and stayed there for two years, returning in March of 1902, a few months before the war ended. He earned three campaign medals--medals awarded to all soldiers who participated in the campaigns. I have no idea where they went to; I never saw them. My grandfather died when I was 2.5 so I hardly knew him at all. My older second cousin, however, told me that Grandfather would occasionally talk about the war with my great uncle. Mostly about the discomfort of being in Africa with the heat and the insects. He turned 17 whilst out in Africa. When he returned, he remained in the Army as a reservist. According to his enlistment papers, he went to Canada as a reservist in 1907. He was honorably discharged from the British Army in 1911, in Canada.
When World War I broke out in 1914, Grandfather would have been 32. He was still young enough to have enlisted but there is no record that he did so. He had settled in Canada by this time and worked for the Grand Trunk Railway. Having seen war in South Africa, I wouldn't have been surprised if Grandfather had no interest in fighting another war. He had a wife, a little girl, a good life in Canada. Sail back to a land where he had so much sadness, where he had already served his country? Probably not.
My father's side of the family: Dad often told a story of my grandfather opening a letter from his family in Scotland during World War I and crying out "Tom! Tom! Tom's dead." Dad understood that one of Grandpa's brothers had been killed but Dad didn't know more than that--or if he did, he didn't share anything more with me. Dad said that as soon as Grandpa Campbell had read his letters from Scotland, he burned them. Dad asked Grandpa why he did that and Grandpa said it was because those letters were no one else's business but his own. Sad, really.
Anyway, once I began tracing Dad's family tree on the International Genealogical Index, I found that Grandpa had had a brother named Thomas but he didn't die in World War I. He lived until at least 1940. So who was it that died in World War I? Grandpa had four brothers in all, Thomas, David, Sylvester and Duncan. I knew that David had moved to the United States and died shortly before my grandfather in the 1960s. Sylvester died in Scotland in 1977. That left Duncan. But how could I find his military record?
In September 2001, our family went to Dundee for a holiday. I had found out which cemetery my great grandparents were buried in. I went to the Records Office and was given their lair number in Balgay Cemetery. It took us awhile to find the right grave as so many stones were broken and fallen over. Finally we found the right lair, the headstone broken in three pieces. With great difficulty (headstones are HEAVY) we pieced the stones together and read the inscription. Apart from my great grandparents and my great aunt there was the reference to "Duncan Campbell, husband of Barbara Beat, died October 20, 1918, buried in Grevillers Cemetery, France."
So the family mystery was solved and I had more bare facts. But the best was yet to come. In the summer of 2009 I was contacted by someone who had seen my family tree on Ancestry. He was a cousin of Barbara Beat, Duncan's wife. Barbara had never remarried and her daughter Agnes had never married at all. So Barbara's effects had come to him. In those effects were a few photos and, wonderfully, some letters that Duncan had written to Barbara from the Front. Through those letters I finally had a glimpse of my unknown great uncle and the warm and wonderful family he came from. Those mysterious dour Scots that my father alluded to--they weren't dour at all. Why Grandpa had denied Dad the opportunity to know his uncles and cousins I will never know; at least not in this life.
Duncan's brother David also fought in WWI. He fought with the Canadian Army. Although he was living in the United States, he went to Toronto and enlisted in the 75th Canadian Infantry. He was wounded in France. I looked up the history of the 75th. The battalion arrived in France in 1916, fought in Belgium, on the Somme and on Vimy Ridge. In fact, the 75th participated in every great battle in World War I with many casualties. But David only enlisted in the closing months of the War, in 1918. Why, at that point, he didn't enlist in the American Army (the US had entered the war at that point) is yet another mystery in my family.
After that, no one else in the family was involved in the military as far as I know. My father was involved in the munitions industry in Montreal during World War II. He had one sister as did my mother. No brothers, therefore (in those days) no potential soldiers. None of my own generation was old enough to have fought in WWII.
My husband served with the Green Beret Medics during the VietNam War. He served in hospitals stateside although he trained in helicopters and, after the war was over, continued with the Utah Guard.
Although I was a peacenik during the VietNam War (I met my husband long after it was over), I have always had tremendous respect for the brave men and women who fought. I deplore the generals of World War I who sent men to drown in the trenches and be mowed down on the beaches. I deplore war mongers who profit from war or dream up new conflicts. But I also grew up on stories of brave England who stood alone against Hitler's onslaught. I salute someone like Louis Zamperini whose story, written in the book Unbroken, details how people can come through unspeakable horrors (he was imprisoned in a Japanese internment camp after his plane crashed in the Pacific during World War II.)
So I will salute the veterans of my adopted country tomorrow in our local parade and pray for a day when swords will be beaten into plough shares.
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