"If it was not for the guns and the ruined city within a mile distant, one might as well be a thousand miles away.". Private William Boothroyd's war effectively ended with a horrific trench experience that shut down his whole body. Sept. 1, 1916: "I have been very lucky. In 1915, George Youmans, who worked in Saskatoon’s land titles office before marching to war, wrote this letter to co-workers. Canadian graves being decorated by Nursing Sisters June 30th, 1918.
At one point, he hastily buried a friend (who had taken a bullet through the head) with a trenching tool.
Letter-writer Lloyd Shannon enlisted for war with many of his friends at the University of Saskatchewan, and he noted in his message home that "it makes you stop and think when you see your best pals falling by your side."
First Nation battles outbreak.
I was in a shell hole, all mud (it rained the whole time), no sleep, eats or water and couldn't smoke even.
The 20-year-old bank clerk wrote to his parents from the War Hospital in Reading, England, after being evacuated. The officer that gave me the order said: 'I hate to have to do this, but it's orders.'
The sight I shall never forget.
Fred Lambert, a member of the Second Division Cyclist Corps, wrote his parents from "somewhere in Flanders" noting his problems not with the Germans, but with a young bovine. July 19, 1915: "I shan't forget it in a hurry.
July 4, 1916: "It is so strange when I think it over, that we came through that day and night without considering time; it was just like a lost day.
They seem to come from another world, and they come as a great relief after the terrible murdering that is continued day after day.".
Sometimes a man just needed to write a letter home. ", Prince Albert bank manager W.R. Thomson wrote a Saskatoon friend about his early experiences on the front lines, and those clever Germans. You will get this only if I do not come back.
We do just have the time of our lives and we surely let the Germans know that we were there — you just bet we did.”, June 9, 1915: "I am about the most lonesome man alive. McIntosh was killed in October 1918.
Jack Lowes, a well-known curler and soccer player, ran a clothing store in Saskatoon prior to the war. "Well, how is Saskatoon? ", May 15, 1915: "In writing this outside our billet, in the sun, on the bank of a small stream, overhead are four aeroplanes being shelled by anti-aircraft guns.
Woodcock, age 45, "died a hero" at the Somme on Oct. 25, 1916, while charging a German trench.
PressReader - FP: 13 : NP5. The Second Battle of Ypres. As the Great War raged, letters passed from the battlefields of Europe into Saskatoon. I have grown so accustomed to it that no doubt when once relieved from them I will feel lost for a time. (Canadian Press). “How they crowd round the postman and how they go off into a corner to devour every word in their letters. Then he landed at Vimy Ridge with older brother Tommy, who was all of 18, and that's when the army learned it had a minor in its midst. We are getting German shells for breakfast, dinner and supper. The doctor resumed his Saskatoon practice in September 1919. email@example.com
We have suffered something this winter. "We had no room to move about and one's bones got absolutely set. I got down to dress up his wound but saw that he was done, and as the Germans were still coming on I had to get busy again.
It would be useless to try and describe it. Making matters worse, he developed typhoid fever after writing this letter to his wife from an Oxford hospital. Check back throughout the day for the latest on COVID-19 in Saskatoon and area. — Ivan. The weather? He seemed to enjoy the scrap and had just told me that he had accounted for more than one German. He survived nearly impossible odds, while huddled in a muddy shell hole. Oct. 27, 1915: “About the first night we spent in the trenches, some people say that the first time you go in, you feel a queer sensation come over you. Some of them were lying as if they were just asleep, but the majority were in a terrible state, with legs and arms blown clean off, but anyway there was no wounded among them, as what was left of their regiments had been crawling about all night finding their wounded, and bringing them in before they got relieved. Written correspondence provided soldiers, and folks back home, a small sense of normalcy; a shared spot at an imaginary supper-table.
Murray, wrote to O'Leary's father with further information about his son's death. A.E. Saskatoon's Louise Brock was a nurse with the Mediterranean Expeditionary Forces in the Dardanelles when she wrote this letter to her sister.
Regina has the next highest concentration of confirmed cases, 65, with 25 that are active.
He wrote to a co-worker about life in the front lines in October 1914. — but they also reflected that tightrope walk between life and death on the firing lines. Jan. 19, 1915: "I cannot tell you where I am, but I can tell you the first month of it was hot.
He was wounded multiple times during the war, but survived and was discharged in 1919. Fraser's combat role ended in August 1918, when he was shot in the left calf and right thigh during an Allied offensive. On Saturday, the province said a COVID-19 patient in Regina had died, the province's fourth victim of the virus. "We do want to ratchet up the testing; we don't want to endanger our northern communities that are at risk already.".
He told his mother in a letter that he'd been to the front seven times, and went "over the top" once — at Neuville-St.-Vaast. Arthur Hallam was injured during the Second Battle of Ypres, when shrapnel "lodged somewhere near my kidneys" on April 27.
Jack Cooper, who was there, wrote in a letter home.
His war ended in July of 1916, when a sniper shot him in the left buttock at Ypres as he left his front-line trench after being relieved. All you could see was men, sand bags and debris going up in the air. He spent the rest of the war fighting various demons — vertigo, migraines, insomnia, depression — and was diagnosed with "traumatic neurosis," or shell shock, in early 1917. 'Jack Johnsons' and 'coal boxes' every day. That's the time when the bullets go whiz past your ear. You give a wounded lad a cigarette, light it for him, his thankfulness is inexpressible. He was 69 years old. "My head was covered with blood and mud, and I had the sensation that my brains were hanging up in the top of a tree.