Here the Pipes Will Lay Beside Me

Someday Here We Will Meet Again

The lone grave of Piper John MacLeod next to a large tree at Ross Bay Cemetery, Victoria, B.C.
Pipe Major John MacLeod.
Great War veteran with the 67th Battalion (Western Scots) and 102nd (North British Columbians)
P. Ferguson image, May 2018.

…a while ago

I have stood here many times, brought others to you and wondered who you are…and yet for all the time that has passed – today you have spoken. Who are you Piper John MacLeod?

…this day

I have walked this place of memory since the late 1970s, read and re-read markers, family messages lettered upon the stones that rise here or lay upon the surface. I have watched the deer, squirrels, families and passers-by visit Ross Bay where the friends and family of old Victoria and not so old Victoria rest. Some names are better known while others wait for some wanderer to find interest. Amongst the war graves 103327 Piper John MacLeod – your memory will be ever green in Ballalan, Lewis.

Allan’s village – Ballalan is to be found on the east coast of the Outer Hebrides, Isle of Lewis, Scotland situated at the head of Loch Erisort. A near famous neighbour and near to the opposite coast, Camas Uig is about 49 minutes away – a distance of 34 miles. It is here, in the Bay, that the 12th-Century Lewis chess pieces were found in 1821.

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The King Edward Hotel in Victoria, British Columbia was established in 1901 on Yates Street. At that time Victoria was becoming a popular tourist destination and the 98-room hotel, 48 with attached baths, was frequented by travelling businessmen. Of special note was a 78-seat dining room where John MacLeod worked as a cook, waiter and steward. Other King Edward Hotel staff who served in the Great War were Second Boer War veteran Sergeant Harry Hardy (16th Battalion CEF), door-keeper and commemorated on the Menin Gate Memorial, (Ypres), Belgium and night clerk James C. Hanna (7th Battalion CEF).

The brick building, formerly the King Edward Hotel, at the corner of Yates and Broad Streets, Victoria, B.C.
The former King Edward Hotel where John MacLeod worked.
Yates Street, Victoria, B.C.
P. Ferguson image, June 2018

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Prior to the Great War John MacLeod served with the 7th Scottish and with the 50th Regiment (Gordon Highlanders). Joining the 67th Battalion John served with the unit in France and Flanders, organized as a pioneer battalion trained in infantry tactics, engineering and construction as part of the Fourth Canadian Infantry Division. John’s 67th service, on the Western Front, commenced 13 August 1916 but in May 1917, his unit was absorbed by other units in the Canadian Corps and John became one of 260 other ranks from the 67th drafted to the 102nd Battalion CEF (North British Columbians). The 102nd’s commanding officer, John Weightman Warden DSO, was especially keen to have a  regimental pipe band and led by Pipe Major “Billy” Wishart, the 67th Pipe Band, albeit for a short while, became the pipe band of Warden’s 102nd.

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In late December at Lens, France, John MacLeod became ill with Albuminuria, first diagnosed at #42 Casualty Clearing Station and he was subsequently sent to Etaples, France, and the King’s Canadian Red Cross Hospital at Bushey Park, Hampton Hill, Middlesex, England. At Bushey Park John was further diagnosed with acute Nephritis and he subsequently returned to British Columbia where he was cared for at the Victoria Military Hospital, Esquimalt and probably at the Resthaven Hospital, Sidney. On 28 August 1918 John MacLeod was discharged from the Canadian Expeditionary Force as medically unfit for further service. Though mentioned in some early wartime medical reports, John MacLeod also suffered from arteriosclerosis reported as having originated prior to enlistment in a 20 April 1918 medical report.

The Victoria War Memorial at the corner of Government and Belleville Streets. Image taken from behind the memorial looking upwards towards the soldier. In the background a Canadian flag flies at half-mast on the Empress Hotel which is covered with scaffolding.
Victoria’s War Memorial and the Empress Hotel with its Canadian flat at half-mast.
P. Ferguson image, November 11, 2015.

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On 8 February 1919 John MacLeod, aged 40 years, left us.

John had previously returned to work at the Empress Hotel located on the inner harbour, Victoria, where each 11 November morning the hotel’s Canadian flag, one of several in the city, flies at half-mast. After John’s prolonged illness, due to exposure and hardship attributed to the fighting at Passchendaele, John MacLeod was laid to rest at the Ross Bay Cemetery, Victoria, British Columbia. John’s draped casket was carried to the cemetery upon a gun carriage with Privates Stead Trickett (67th Battalion), C. Haggerty, Hugh McColl Henderson (67th Battalion), J. Robinson, J. Grant, Henry Clear (29th Battalion) as pallbearers. Pipe Major Billy Wishart, of the 67th (Western Scots) and the 102nd (North British Columbians) formed a pipe band to play at John MacLeod’s service. At the graveside three volleys were fired and a bugler played the last post…someday we will meet again, I’ll return to leave you never, Be a piper to the end.

Portrait image of Piper John MacLeod who is sporting a fine and wide handle-bar mustache. He wears a jacket, high collar and tie.
Piper John MacLeod.
From Royal Lewis Roll of Honour (1914 and after). Stornoway, 1920.
The publication has included an incorrect date of death.
Available from archive.org

Previously published Pipes of War website, 10 June 2018

The March Hare

Far from the Perfect Circle of the Sky

A fine colour cartoon drawing of a brown hare wearing a garland of straw, brown jacket and blue tie. The hare sits at a table with teapot and tea cups. A mouse sits beside the hare. It's a tea party.
The March Hare from Lewis Caroll’s, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.
Illustration by John Tenniel.
Wiki Commons Image

The White Rabbit put on his spectacles. “Where shall I begin, please your Majesty?” he asked. “Begin at the beginning,” the King said gravely, ”and go on till you come to the end: then stop.” (L. Carroll)

The March hare has risen amidst the March thaw in search of spring. Soon the bounty of nature will be upon us as new growth and blossoms speak to us of new beginnings. So too the landscape of the Great War, upon the fields, towns, villages and cities will feature the cyclical joys of nature offering solace and colour to the weary eye turned grey to years of war. The hare will hop from burrow to burrow, hedgerow to hedgerow, garden to garden as men continue to feel the rasp of fragments hot burst from their barrels or shredded fragments that pierce the blue and smoke-filled ‘scape. The hare may be mad in his search for amour, une jeune fille but for soldiers there can only be thoughts of love, no new beginnings at this time. There is more war to come in the Spring of 1918.

On 21 March 1918 the Kaiser’s Battle…the German Spring Offensive on the Western Front commenced. With the addition of 500,000 troops newly released from the Russian Front, the German command was confident of victory. Still there would be nearly eight more months of war. And in that time a generation of hares would have its leverets, its youth, adolescence and maturity. The hare would continue to hop amidst the minds of men whose lives, like the sword of Damocles, hung “far from the perfect circle of the sky.”

The March Thaw
Edwin Curran – March 1918

On – turgid, bellowing – tramp the freshet rills
Heaped up with yellow wine, the winter’s brew.
Out-thrown, they choke and tumble from the hills,
And lash their tawny bodies, whipping through.
With flattened bells comes scudding purple rain;
The cold sky breaks and drenches out the snow.
Far from the perfect circle of the sky
The heavy winds lick off the boughs they blow;
And fields are cleansed for plows to slice again,
For April shall laugh downward by and by.

With purifying blasts the wind stalks out
And sweeps the carrion of winter on;
It prods the dank mists, stamps with jest about,
And sows the first blooms on the greening lawn.
Far up the planks of sky the winter’s dross
Goes driven to the north; her rank smells wave
In unseen humors to the icy pole.
The charwomen of the sky, with brushes, lave
And wash the fields for green , and rocks for moss,
And busily polish up the earth’s dull soul.

Did You Know?

Alice Liddell (1852 – 1934) was a young acquaintance of author Lewis Carroll (1832 – 1898) and may have been the inspiration for Carroll’s character Alice in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865). Alice married Reginald Hargreaves and the couple had three sons, Alan Knyveton Hargreaves, Leopold Reginald Hargreaves and Caryl Liddell Hargreaves.

Captain Alan Hargreaves DSO, age 33, was killed with the 2nd Battalion, Rifle Brigade 9 May 1915 and is buried at Le Trou Aid Post Cemetery, Fleurbaix, France.

Captain Leopold Hargreaves MC, age 33, was killed serving with the Irish Guards, 25 September 1916 and is buried at Guillemont Road Cemetery, Guillemont, France.

Previously published Pipes of War website, 14 March 2018

Chosen Chisled Words

Across the stone’s face, the letters have faded from view.

The Smith family marker at Cumberland Cemetery. It is a stone obelisk in a field sparsely covered with dry vegetation. It has been a hot day. Other older markers appear in the background.
The Smith family marker at Cumberland Cemetery.
P. Ferguson image, August 2017

It is our second visit to Cumberland in recent times…but some 13 years ago I first walked this place to learn of those whose lives were coal. Walking, as I do, length upon length of upright and earth lain markers I read the few lines of tell – the chosen chiseled words – that some best remember and others might become inquisitive. Time has harvested many of these cut letters, taking as it can its share of stories leaving only notes and hints, the ashes of one once known, or perhaps, two or three or more.

I stand at the foot of a Smith family marker –  the only sound the heat of the day.

A closer view of the Smith family marker taken several years previous. The marker is not as eroded as it is presently.
The Smith Family marker, when names were better read.
P. Ferguson image, June 2004.

I have stood here before when the letters, though encroached upon by lichen – rain – wind – cold – heat – dust were better viewed. The letters were words then, not easily read but recorded Robert Smith killed at No. 4 Mine and John Smith killed overseas. I was struck at the time and still today by these two lives – a family’s dual tragedy, the dangers of mining, the dangers of warring – these chosen words here at SMITH. Today, Fergusons stand beside Smiths and all the while I am grateful for that one-week meander in 2004 of carved, leaded and cast letters from place to place on Vancouver Island. Headstones and memorials, study and student, teacher and taught.

Close-up view of the lettering on the Smoth Family Memorial, Cumberland.
Lettering of the Smith Family Memorial, Cumberland Cemetery. Mines and the Great War.
P. Ferguson image, June 2004.

Whilst at Cumberland Cemetery I meet a new friend, Dave is his name, Dave Waugh, who comes for a visit curious of our interest in this stone record and so I tell him; how having been here before – before the words slipped away I had once read the words of the Smith family, one lost in the mines and one to the Great War. As the conversation continues I am grateful and respectful to hear of Dave’s interest and connection to this place and once again I appreciate, despite the sorrow, how people can be brought together, eternally attached to these places and stone records of memory. It is here at Cumberland where I feel beneath the ashes, the glowing embers of coal and memory, of good stories once spoken, of chosen chiseled words and faded letters, here amongst new friends and old.

Addendum

It is coal that brought me first to Cumberland. There is something about this town, about the men and women – families whose lives were coal. In 2004 when I stumbled upon the Smith family headstone I found connecting interests – one to the other – and one to this wanderer of the trail. it is coal that has brought me here on the trail again 19 August 2017 to No. 4 Mine.

A large concrete structure sits no longer in use near to No. 4 Mine, Cumberland, B.C. The sun shines down through the surrounding green trees. Ferns and other greenery occupies the foreground and tree trunks.
Industrial heritage in the forest. Near to No. 4 Mine, Cumberland, B.C.
P. Ferguson image, 19 August 2017.

Robert Smith was killed in an explosion at Comox #4 Mine, 8 February 1923 – one of 33 miners lost that day. His relative, John Alexander Smith, a former painter, of the 25th Canadian Infantry Battalion (Nova Scotia), was killed 17 August 1917 during the Battle of Hill 70, Lens, France. One of 137 soldiers of the Canadian Expeditionary Force who would not come home because of this day.

Artist and poet Kahlil Gibran once wrote, “Perhaps time’s definition of coal is the diamond”. Yet here amongst the embers, diamonds are in the rough, blackened sparkles, shining beneath the soot and elements for wanderers to find.

Previously published Pipes of War website, 23 August 2017

The Highway to One Man of Passchendaele

Captain Oswald Howey Lunham, “…for now and all time”

Soldiers amidst the mud and water-filled craters of Passchendaele. The waterfields are now pasture land for cattle below the ridge that was captured November 10, 1917.
Passchendaele (July 31 — November 10, 1917).
Imperial War Museum Exhibit Transparency.
P. Ferguson image, September 2017.

The Highway takes us up the island to our turn to the left…..to a solitary church…..near to a railway bridge…..near to a river.

Sitting at my desk some while back I wrote and re-wrote the words that have become this day’s Passchendaele. A battle whose centennial was recently marked July 31, 2017 – but the words of mine, for that time, did not meet my expectations and so I let them rest until this day when I have traded pen and paper for keyboard and screen. I can reminisce more easily this way winding my way visually and through the keys to our person of interest.

As we meander towards the church with its place of rest I contemplate the phrase we are to encounter. I know not much of our soldier but he is here with one line to remind us all of his Passchendaele. It is his story – a family story – captured for all – and for all time – by one mindful soul’s thought, “CALLED TO HIS REST AFTER LONG / SUFFERING PATIENTLY BORNE / NOV.12.1930.”

The lettered full length grave marker of Captain Lunham in the churchyard cemetery at Cowichan Station. The marker includes a large cross above the inscription.
Resting place of Captain O.H. Lunham, Passchendaele veteran,
St. Andrew’s Anglican Church, Cowichan Station, B.C.
P. Ferguson image, August 2017.

Captain Oswald Howey Lunham joined the 112th Battalion CEF at Windsor, Nova Scotia. A mine manager, Lunham served in France and Flanders commencing in July 1917 with the 13th Canadian Machine Gun Company. It was 10 November 1917, at Passchendaele, that Oswald Lunham suffered Shell Shock. Though his service record includes lengthy observations of his symptoms, some lines stand out from the others, “He has the appearance of a very neurotic person, and has a cast down expression as if some great sorrow was on his mind…He states he was always of a nervous temperament, but since this shell shock his nervous system seems completely shattered.”   (Assistant Director of Medical Service, Military District 6, April 13, 1918, pages 61 and 64)

Evidence of a previous breakdown, ca. 1914, are recorded in medical reports of 1918, however, Oswald Lunham chose to wear the uniform of his Canada. After seven months service in France, it was after two attacks at Passchendaele that Lunham’s system broke down leading to rheumatic fever, a complete nervous breakdown, difficulty in sleeping, difficulty in the company of others, afraid to be left alone in the dark, headaches and depression.

As I continue to read through these reports the repetition of his symptoms bounce again and again from the pages of 1918 to the face of 2017. Our goodly Mr. Lunham’s Passchendaele would remain with him for the rest of his days…and yet I take some comfort from the words of 1918 when I read “He can travel by transport as his wife can accompany him…” and it is perhaps from Myrtle Lunham, his dear wife that chose our thought for now and all time at a solitary church…..near to a railway bridge…..near to a river….

The Trews, Highway of Heroes.
Support the Canadian Hero Fund

Previously published Pipes of War website, 11 August 2017

In the morning, evening, at night…

Om morgonen, kvelden, natta*

Portrait of Private Ole Berget, in the uniform of the Canadian Expeditionary Force. The tunic includes maple leaf shaperd general service collar badges and Canada shoulder titles.
Private Ole Berget, 31st Canadian Infantry Battalion. Missing in Action, Fresnov, 3 May 1917.
Author’s Family.

In the darkness of the early morning the men of Alberta waited for the barrage to commence which would send them “over the top.” In spite of the heavy enemy bombardment, there were few casualties before the opening of the attack; but in front, swept by rifle and machine-gun fire and an open target for enemy shells, lay “No Man’s Land,” and beyond that – the enemy wire.

Promptly at 3:45 a.m. the barrage came down on the German positions, the whole terrain erupting suddenly into red flashes of bursting shells. In the darkness the men of the 31st Battalion climbed the parapet and went forward to the attack. Even as they did so the German counter-barrage fell on the leading companies and the deadly German machine-gun fire slashed through their ranks.

Onward and upward over the gently-sloping ground the attacking waves pressed at the double. In the darkness men stumbled over debris and pitched into shell holes, to rise and again push forward. Others fell, riddled with machine-gun bullets or disrupted by bursting shell, to rise no more.

(H.C. Singer, History of the Thirty-First Battalion C.E.F., pages 216-217)

Looking towards the French village of Fresnoy. A green farmer's field in the foreground. On the horizon a church steeple rises above the town. It is a cloudy day.
The now peaceful and rebuilt French village of Fresnov En Gohelle (Fresnov).
P. Ferguson image, 2009

In 2009 I drove to Fresnoy, France with two friends for an exploration of the village of Fresnoy. It was here, to the north of the town, that my Great Grandfather was to lose his life…missing in action…commemorated on the Vimy Memorial. Today, near to a hundred years ago, I know it is time to return to this village. A time to wander this ground again and to include in my visit a nearby Commonwealth War Graves cemetery where there, amongst the markers, perhaps a Canadian soldier, Known Unto God.

*In the morning, evening, at night…we will remember them.

The first language of the Berget family who lived at Alderson, Alberta, near Medicine Hat was Norwegian*. Ole Berget left behind his dear wife Emma, and six children. Emma’s brother, Private Bernard Kyllo, 50th Canadian Infantry Battalion, was killed in action at Souchez, 1 February 1917 and is buried at Villers Station Cemetery, France.

Six children of the Berget family. Four posed upon a large chair. The two boys wear large bows at their necks. The two older girls with ribbons in the hair. The youngest girls in the foreground are standing, the youngest holding a doll.
The Berget Children
L-R back row; Willy and Myrtle, second row L-R; Florence “Flossie” and Edwin, front row L-R; Hazel and Mabel (undated). (Esplanade Arts and Heritage Centre, Medicine Hat, Alberta, Accession 0596.0004)

Previously published Pipes of War website, 1 May 2017

My Vimy

The writer's hand holds a framed portrait image of Private Ole Berget against the lettering of his name on the Vimy Memorial. There is a red poppy within the frame.
My Vimy. Ole Berget, 2007 Vimy Memorial Rededication
P. Ferguson image, April 2007

It is as if Vimy is the start of what I do

Vimy is connected to family. It’s personal.

This I learned many years ago from my grandmother who told me stories about her father…..which were…..upon reflection…..stories her mother had told. This was the man Grannie knew…..memories…..passed from one generation to another. Grannie was two years old or thereabouts when her Papa left this plain for another place, at another battle – known as Fresnoy – now so near to a 100 years ago.

Watching this past Sunday, I learned of many who followed this desire that rises in some of us to see for ourselves. I did not go this time but have been before and will go again. There is peace in what I do. I am at home here – walking, cycling, feeling these places as they ache into the heart and allow me to find connection through the space of years from conflict to calm. What noises, sites and smells were here then and what is here now? Patient, continuous observation without the chaos, within my own plain.

There can be no doubt that the consideration to remain at home was for a reason. I did not go. I did not speak – but found solace in words and thoughts from the wreckage of this past. My Vimy was 2007 at the rededication of the Vimy Memorial when I took my Great-Grandfather’s portrait with me and upon that ridge looked into this man who somehow brought me here. That day Private Ole Berget, late of the 31st Battalion CEF seemed to say, “I have been here before……………take me home”……….he just wanted to come home.

Somehow, I like to think that this is what many of us feel when we watch amongst this emotion and search for our peace. We find ourselves, our Vimys, our Fresnoys…….…it’s personal.

Previously published Pipes of War website, 11 April 2017

This Land of Crimson

A stand of red poppies along the roadside. Crimson and black against the green foliage.
Flanders poppies along the roadside near Ouderdon, Belgium.
P. Ferguson image, September 2016.

Papaver rhoeas

On the advance to Reningelst I see them. A small stand, crimson with black centers grow near to another botanical family – corn stalks.

They are the only Papaver rhoeas (Corn Poppy) I have seen on this journey of discovery – their colour stands out amidst all this new growth from nature’s palette. Gentle in the breeze, catching the sun’s rays, their motion reminds me of a single moment when hurt is caught between the living and the fallen.

I cannot help but dismount, climb the slight rise to enjoy their life, their gentle sway as the shutter clicks. All the while…here in Flanders Fields, this land of crimson…we will remember them.

Previously published Pipes of War website, 11 November 2016

Say Not “Good-Night”

The inscription on the Commonwealth War Graves Commission headstone is at the base of the tablet.
Headstone inscription, Minty Farm Cemetery, Belgium.
P. Ferguson image, September 2016.

But in Some Brighter Clime

He was a soldier, unknown to me, but through my wanderings across Flanders I stumble upon his place. He is there with his fellow soldiers… who knew not what the day would bring. But this day, this time, this place, I stop a while and think upon his life and wonder who he was to others….We will remember them.

Bid Me “Good Morning”

The full length headstone of Sergeant J. Gibbs includes the insignia of the Royal Army Medical Corps, a Cadeuscus, (a snake wrapped aroundd a pole). Contained within a wreath with the King's Crown above.
Sergeant J. Gibbs, Royal Army Medical Corps, Age 31.
P. Ferguson image, September 2016.

Sergeant Gibbs’ headstone inscription is from the poem entitled “Life” by Anna Laetitia Barbauld (1743-1825). Son of Thomas and Maria Gibbs, of Burton-on-Trent; husband of Madeline Elizabeth Gibbs, of 199, Uxbridge St., Burton-on-Trent.

Previously published Pipes of War website, 9 November 2016

Remember Them Well

Mountains and Places – Any Day and Any Table

Many of us enjoy watching movies time and time again. Each year I promise myself to find a few others and as I sit with pencil and paper in hand, neatly levered into my chair – my place, I jot down a few titles or more. The latest list includes one film I had not thought on for many years until Cold Mountain comes to mind and especially for what I recall as the end theme. To my great pleasure I have forgotten much…..but not this day…..

My gosh where has my time gone? Jude Law, Nicole Kidman, Renée Zellwegger and the band, Brendan Gleeson, Jack White and Ethan Suplee. As I watch this story of the Civil War…and its hurt…I cannot help but drift with my thoughts to Ken Burns’ documentary and its wonderful reoccurring theme Ashokan Farewll. In Cold Mountain we have to wait to the ending for Alison Krausse and The Scarlet Tide to take up the story, and in her sweet voice paraphrase and melodically rekindle our 154 minute journey.

This film is an allegory, a reminder of hurt in war where pain is masterly crafted in simple words (but my how I wish I could write them). As you read upon Ada Munroe’s [Nicole Kidman] thoughts…think of all families…left with the same hurt…from any war…any where….any time…..

What we have lost will never be returned to us…..The land will not heal……too much blood…..the heart will not heal…..All we can do is make peace with the past…and try to learn from it….

And later

…..There are days now when I manage not to think of you…..When the needs of the farm call with more urgency than my heart…..This time of year there’s so much life everywhere…..I find you in all of it…..as if you were still walking home to me…..If you could see us now this Easter day, at Black Cove, you would know every step of your journey was worth it.

As you watch this clip I cannot help but think of families after the Great War (or any war) at special events or for that matter any day at any table. Know that every person gathered at this table has somehow suffered a loss related to war. Think too about Canada’s Great War families, America’s families, anyone’s family – they may have spoken Athabaskan, Norwegian, French, Russian, English, Chinese, Flemish, German…all nations hurt…all of us try to heal…

 I’m still climbing upwards and my journey’s almost ended. So friend if you’re thirsty climb this mountain with me….

Previously published Pipes of War website, 4 November 2016

There and Back Again

Eric Valentine Gordon

Portrait image of Eric Valentine Gordon wearing a jacket and tie.
British Columbia’s Eric Valentine Gordon, scholar, soldier and professor.

I can imagine them gathered around a table perhaps with a jug of ale, mead or warm cider. Finger foods, breads, meats and good conversation abound in tales of great imagination possibly anchored in some old tale of Norse or other. What brought them together…a common interest to share and then so many years later, so many tales, so many readings these stories released as films that I enjoy watching time and time again or the books I have returned to re-reading them with renewed imagination. What pray tell can these wanderings of tales of old could I be reckoning with?

I return again to Tolkien and his hobbits and rings, towers and kings, orcs and wizards. I have written before of Tolkien’s Great War and now I add his friend and Canadian soldier, Eric Valentine Gordon. Born in Salmon Arm, B.C. in 1896 Gordon was a student when he enlisted into the Canadian Field Artillery at Shorncliffe Camp, England, 11 August 1916. Gordon, service number 1260262 was, at the time of his enlistment, a student at University College, Oxford. I originally found Mr. Gordon’s name amongst those Rhodes Scholars that I had previously researched with Great War service and was pleased to find Gordon’s C.E.F. record there among his brethren. Although troubled since childhood with asthma the condition did not stop Gordon from enlisting into the C.E.F., though it was soon apparent that this malady would take its toll and he was discharged in November 1916. For the good Mr. Gordon there would be no trenches or dire landscapes as witnessed by Tolkien.

Portrait of soldier and author John Tolkien. He wears an officers tunic with Sam Browne belt.
J.R.R. Tolkien in 1916. A great friend of E.V. Gordon
Wiki image.

There are many stories of those who served in the trenches and saw action at the familiar place names of the Great War. There are fewer stories though about those who were discharged due to medical disabilities and other reasons. I think upon those who did all they could to serve and am reminded of what must have been a rather small group of brothers the H.R.V.C., (the Vancouver based Honorably Rejected Volunteers of Canada) who had tried to enlist and for whatever reason were unable to serve despite their great desire. The H.R.V.C. had insignia, a lapel pin similar to those issued by the Canadian Patriotic Fund, or similarly the Silver War Badge. There were many other insignias produced at this time and all were important distinguishing marks to be worn during these times of conflict.

It is true that there were antagonists who harassed those they thought should be in uniform, Why are you not serving your country? and who at times distributed white feathers, representative of cowardice, to those they deemed were not doing their bit. Having actually seen an original feather and accompanying note it is very much another astonishing symbol representative of a complex time.

These pins, many subject to punishment if worn unlawfully, marked the man as one who had served or attempted to serve and displayed to potential antagonists that they had attempted to serve the cause or had been discharged from active service.

Returning to the good Mr. Gordon, I was inspired to learn, that he had worked with Tolkien and the two became great friends, who perhaps shared stories that led to the creation of that famed series of books now further immortalized by Peter Jackson.

Gordon, “Being no longer physically fit for war service” returned to school. He had attended Victoria College and McGill University prior to the Great War and afterwards taught at Leeds University 1922 – 1931 and Manchester University until his death in 1938. Gordon worked with Tolkien on A Middle English Vocabulary and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Together they created the Viking Club where Icelandic sagas of old were read, and amongst friends and faculty beer was consumed. Together Gordon and Tolkien enjoyed the creation of Anglo-Saxon songs that were later privately published as Songs for Philologists.

Gordon’s wife Ida later became a visiting professor at the University of Victoria in 1970. Their daughter Bridget  MacKenzie, a lecturer in old Norse at the University of Glasgow, inherited several personal papers and books related to the friendship of her father and Tolkien. These documents were purchased by the Special Collections department of the University of Leeds. The University’s catalog description records, “The six letters, 11 manuscripts and two books include a copy of the extremely rare Songs for the Philologists, penned by Tolkien, Gordon and others, and a first edition of The Hobbit dedicated by its author to Gordon, his wife and young children.”

For me this research of friendship has taken me there and back again from re-reading The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings series, re-watching Jackson’s interpretations of these journeys and to my Alma Mater, the University of Victoria. I see them all, the characters, Gandalf and Bilbo, Frodo and Sam of Tolkien and Gordon’s great imagination and creativity, those who are quite “little fellow[s] in a wide world after all” and see that indeed there really is no such thing as little fellows. All peoples are unique in their gifts of sharing knowledge for all. Thank goodness.

Previously published Pipes of War website, 22 August 2015