AboutAnything | Greg McComb
Whenever I look at this picture of my great-uncle Hugh, (under x) my first thought is always 'he must have been a really-cool guy.' It's one of my favorites in a vast collection of ancestry photos.
I mean, look at the guy. A cigarette dangling from his lip, his steel helmet tilted-fashionably right, and then there is the sleeveless-sheepskin vest, possibly donated from as far off as Australia, and shipped to the front by the Red Cross. These vests were the only thing standing between a soldier and a bad case of frostbite during months of winter-trench warfare in France.
You see, this is a photo of Hugh's unit taken around 1915 or 16 during World War I, at a camp on the frontlines in France. Possibly next to the poppy fields that bloom today in Flanders Fields, symbols of the million or more soldiers who were wounded, missing or killed in-action during the bloody trench warfare that defined this awful war, from 1914-18. I can't know for sure but the long-poles held by two of the soldiers were medieval-style pikes used during raids of German trenches. Canadians gained a reputation as fierce raiders using make-shift weapons like these pikes along with hand-made clubs, knives and small catapults. This was no high-tech war, hand-to-hand combat was not uncommon.
Who was Hugh?
So, who was Hugh? I have little oral history of my great-uncle, so I stitched together a rough sketch of his life using ancestry research I've done for my Miller lineage.
I know Hugh was born in 1896 in Glasgow, Scotland, part of a large family that would eventually count twelve children. A typical size for the times, pre-birth control. His parents were John and Annie 'Murphy' Miller, my great-grandparents, (above).
I included Annie's maiden name for a couple of reasons. One, to point out her heritage; that part of my family tree is not pure Scot, the surname Murphy is about as Irish as-it-gets. Second, to highlight her central role in the family. From oral history and photos, I surmised that Annie was a muscular, strong-willed woman, the matriarch of the family. She was the alpha female in the marriage, John was the beta. One of the historic clues is Hugh's memorial notes and gravestone. Both included Annie's maiden name, Hugh Murphy Miller, an unusual thing to do short of a
Hugh's brother was my grandfather James Miller, who I grew up with in Winnipeg, Canada, regularly visiting his house on Garfield street. A short-sprightly man, Grandpa Miller used to play the bones when I visited his house in the west-end, and slurp his coffee from a saucer, a habit that drove my grandmother crazy. He often joked he didn't mind when his wife Ella put on some weight, he liked women 'with-a-little-meat on their bones.' He also had a mild-Scottish brogue. Assuming these characteristics ran in the family, a best guess is that Hugh was also a bit of a jokester, fairly short and spoke with a Scottish accent.
The Big Move
In 1912, the Miller family moved to the frigid-Prairie outpost of Winnipeg, Canada, my hometown - half a world away. Hugh was a teenager, only 16-years-old when he boarded a ship, likely at close-by Greenock port, for the transatlantic voyage. No doubt, a scary yet exhilarating experience for a youngster, leaving the 'Old World' for the New. And as best as I can tell, Annie Murphy had completed the Hurcleon-task of bearing all 12 children....
Back then, Winnipeg was a frosty-desolate place, although it was full of promise as the 'West' was opening up and actively recruiting immigrants. Tracks for a national railway had just gone through and a grand-Greek-revival train station had been completed, only a few years previous. Winnipeg was (and still is) known as the ''Gateway to the West.'
Unlike many of my other ancestors, they were not fleeing something when they moved. Like the Irish famine (John McComb) or the American War of Independence (Peter Valleau). That's because Glasgow at the turn-of-the-last century wasn't all that bad a place to be. It was
--- describe move across ocean...historic context....
--- happy family life pics... picnics and grandbeach
-- back to France....
--- how he died on battlefield...
pictures of memorial...
Uncle Jim volunteered... grandma murphy called him back
matriarch... 'murphy' John went back with half of family....
The sad letter home
France,
1918
Dear Mrs. Miller: -
Again with heartfelt sympathy, I pencil you these lines, testifying to the receipt of your letter in answer to mine. As sure it must have been an awful shock to you, and all of yours concerned.
Well, now I will give you all the details, as requested, beginning at the start.
Hugh and I were in the habit of visiting a nearby Y.M.C.A. for the purpose of getting empty boxes for his fire every morning. Of course we always went the evening beforehand, and on the evening of June 6th, I had a few jobs to do when he was ready to go. Well, he said he would not wait, as it was
not far and he would soon be back. While he was away I finished my little jobs and was waiting on the road for him. Presently I saw him coming up the road with a box and just then Fritzie (German army) started shelling. When he got near where I was the fatal one had landed quite close to him, and one of our signalers. They, of course, were both badly wounded - as it is now
proved - for they both died of the effects. The signaler got it in the head, and poor Hughie got it in the legs from the knees down.
proved - for they both died of the effects. The signaler got it in the head, and poor Hughie got it in the legs from the knees down.
They were both quickly taken down the nearest dugout and doctors were on the job immediately. At this stage they were both absolutely unconscious - which of course was best I think. The signaler was still unconscious when taken away. When the ambulance arrived they brought Hughie up first and set the stretcher down for a second or two before putting him in.
Just then he three up three mouthfuls of loose blood from his mouth and became conscious. I believe the concussion of the shell burst caused an internal hemorrhage somewhere to cause that loose blood. They then lifted him into the ambulance and I jumped in to have a few words before he left.
I was pleased to find that he opened his eyes and knew me, as I was afraid he wouldn't. I asked him if there was anything he would like to drink, but he said 'no' to all my suggestions. Then I asked him how he was feeling and he said 'pretty tough, Kid,' and closed his eyes again.
His eyes seemed to be rather low on the blankets, so I asked him if I could fix it a little higher and he said 'yes, please' with eyes open, and tried to smile. Then I asked him if I would fix it a little higher and he said 'yes, please' with eyes open, and tried to smile. Then I asked him what he would me to do after he went away. He said, 'you will look after all my little things I know, and you know where they all are. Get them together and keep them till I write and tell you what to do further.'
I said 'Yes, of course I will, and don't you long in writing, as you know how anxious I'll be. If you can't write, I said, 'get the nurse to do it.' 'You bet I will,' he said. Then I asked him if he would like me to write right away to you, and he said 'No, it will be quite soon enough when she (Hugh's mother) hears from me.' I guess he didn't want me to excite you in any way. You must not imagine he lost any arms or legs, as I can assure you he had them all intact. Just from the knee down to the feet the pieces went through, and he lost a lot of blood.
The I tried to cheer him up about being over in Blighty between the nice white sheets - with all the sorts of nice things and attention - but to this he just smiled. Then the other poor fellow was put in so I could see I had to get out soon, though I wished I could have been allowed to go with him. Am sure I could have kept him up a lot. So with a firm shake of his hand, telling him to write as soon as it was possible, I jumped out.
Just as the car moved away, I wished him the best of luck and he answered me, but I did not hear him very plain on account of the noise from the car machinery. I know it was well meant whatever it was. That night you might imagine how I missed him, and how blue I felt.
After a few days passed and I was wondering how he was, as I had not heard, there appeared in our routine orders, "Decrease of strength - Dvr. H.N. Miller - Died of Wounds. Reported by O.C. of Hospital.
I was sadly shocked to realize it, as I could hardly believe it. Then I wrote to you straight away and would have written to others but could not find any other addresses with him. I trust you will get all that was in his pockets, also that you have received the few things left in my charge till I handed them over the paymaster.
Then the first chance I got I gained 'leave of absence' to visit the hospital and make inquiries, and see his grave. I had a talk with a staff sergeant there, who informed me he was admitted there in the afternoon on the 7th, and slept fairly well at night. He was awake early next morning, feeling very bad, and kept sinking from then till 1:20 p.m. when he drew his last. They tell me he passed away unconscious, and that gangrene had set in - which caused his death.
Then I asked about the grave and was told it was at the other end of the town, so I started off to find it. It is called St. Hillaire cemetery, and is an old French church cemetery with a part partitioned off for British soldiers. I guess you know the name of the town, so it will be needless for me to mention it.
Well, his grave is market with a military cross - the same as all are - and it is being well attended to. There are seven rows of graves from 'A' to 'G' and his is the second grave in the fifth row (E). I placed a few flowers on it when I was there.
Since I saw Hughie last there was a parcel sent to him and his parcel was handed over to me. The senders name was cut off the wrapping so I don't know who it was from, though I felt sure it was from you. Anyhow, I enjoyed the niceties that were inside, and feel quite safe in thanking you for the same.
As soon as I found out the address of his young lady in Scotland, (unknown, possibly pictured left) I forwarded my deep sympathy, with full details. Today, I received a letter from her in reply.
I got your letter the day before, also one from Miss May Miller.
Now about that prize he won a while ago at the running races. I asked our Chaplain today all about it, as he did not give it to Hughie the day he won it, and Hugh never knew what the first prize was to be. Well, it appears that the first prize was a small sum of French money, and the chaplain says he will hand it over to me to send you, though he didn't tell me just when he would. So, I will see him again tomorrow, and if he can let me have it will enclose it with this letter.
I understand he has forwarded you all the necessary information as to how you can secure a photo of the grave, (see left, map of gravesite). I also spoke to him about arranging to have the engineers put us up a nice big white cross, with an inscription on it. He says he will see what he can do, and I know he will do his best.