Uncle Hugh 'Murphy' Miller: war 'hero,' cool guy

 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 on my great-uncle, so I  stitched together a rough sketch of his life using ancestry research I've done for my Miller lineage, along with a very-special letter I will talk about later.

   

   I know Hugh was born in 1896 in Glasgow, Scotland, part of a large family, twelve children in-all. A typical size for the times, pre-birth control when children were needed for farm labor. His parents  were John and Annie 'Murphy' Miller, my great-grandparents, (pictured, around 1910).

  --- describe move across ocean...historic context....

 --- happy family life pics... picnics and grandbeach

   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 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.

    -- 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....

  For reasons I don't fully underThe next part of my Miller family history is a bit murky. 

   

   

     attended a rock concert would you rather see the Rolling Stones fronted by a wrinkly, 79-year-old Mick Jagger -- or a group of talented musicians who could play much better. 

  Of course, the answer is the Rolling Stones. 

  I use this analogy to better understand what's going on as the abrasive Greg Norman, CEO of LIV Golf, plucked player-after-player from the ranks of the PGA Tour.  ...

  Just under a hundred years ago, my great uncle Hugh Miller (brother of Grandpa Miller) lost his life fighting in the trenches of the First World War. Below are pictures of Hugh, his division (x next him) and a letter sent home from France, describing the circumstances of his death, victim of roadside shelling. Thanks for doing this Hugh. Sorry I never got to meet you; you looked like a pretty cool guy...