Frederick Oldham The following speech was given by Frederick Oldham on September 16, 1967 during ceremonies at the Smith's Falls Cenotaph during the 21st Battalion reunion "Comrades
and friends: ln the many centres of population throughout this vast country of ours, you
will see many such monuments as this, on which are chiseled the words "Lest We
Forget". We — the survivors of our great Battalion — have not forgotten.
We have kept the faith. For forty nine years we have gathered in Reunion to honor
the memory of those of our comrades who gave their lives in our nation’s cause and to
renew our comradeship with those who survive. We come also to pay tribute to the tens of
thousands of young Canadians who suffered and died in later wars than ours for Canada and
the Commonwealth. Today we remember too those of our comrades of our old Battalion who
have passed to the Great Beyond since our last Reunion. We miss their presence here with
us today, their friendly handshake, their ready smile. Our sympathy goes out to their
bereaved families — their loss is our loss too; by our constant association with them
during war and peace, they had become a part of us and beloved by us. Surrounding
this Memorial at which we are gathered you see a small multitude of The following speech was given by Frederick Oldham on November 11, 1971, to his church congregation in Smiths Falls Ontario. The transcript was found in the PWOR Archives and I thought it appropriate to reproduce it here for all to read.
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Twenty-six years ago today, I spoke to the congregation of this church. It was on the 11th
of November, 1945, Armistice Day.
I said at that time that people in all walks of life, in every city, town, and village,
throughout this great land, would be gathering at the Cenotaphs to honor the memory of the
thousands of our gallant dead who sacrificed their lives in the First and Second Great
Wars. On this day, twenty-six years' ago, veterans of both wars marched shoulder to
shoulder, some mourning the loss of a father or brother others mourning the loss of a son,
bringing to mind the sad day the tragic news reached them, to the effect that one or the
other had been killed in action.
On Thursday last the same scenes were re-enacted, keeping fresh in our minds the terrible
tragedy of war.
The 11th of November is no longer named Armistice Day, but has been re-named
Remembrance Day. 1 would hope that many of you who know not the horror, misery and grief
of war, would think and learn of those wars, so that you may be better able to thank God
with gratitude in your hearts for this wonderful land saved for us from the tyrants of
that day by the sacrifice of thousands of the flower of Canada's manhood, who now lie
buried far from home in foreign fields, and thank God for the mothers and fathers who gave
to this country stalwart sons of such courage and fortitude.
I would like to take you back to November 3rd 1914, fifty-seven years ago, when
many of you were yet unborn.
The call came, for one thousand men from the surrounding district to form the 21st
Battalion. Out of fourteen hundred who turned up at Kingston, our mobilization center, the
desired number were chosen.
From then on, our lives were changed completely. No longer were we masters of our own
destiny. It was hard at first to be ordered to do this and that, but realizing the
seriousness of the situation, we accepted without complaint very soon.
All through the bitter winter of 1914, we paraded and drilled in below-zero weather and
marched miles with full kit until we were almost ready to drop, and often wondered if this
routine would ever stop.
At ten o'clock one evening, when we were preparing for sleep, the bugle sounded FALL IN.
We rushed out on Parade and were told to gather up all our belongings, and fall in again
in full dress. When all were assembled, and all present, we marched off, thinking it was
another long distance route march, but in-stead, we ended up at the station.
Somehow word had leaked out that we were finally on our way, for when we arrived, the
platform was crowded with women, who with tears in their eyes, hugged and kissed us in a
fond farewell. It mattered not to them that we were not their sons but that we were some
mother's son, and many of us would never return.
The same thing happened when we arrived at Brockville. It was an emotion filled night
never to be forgotten. We left Brockville half an hour late, and arrived in Montreal in
the early hours of the morning.
There, we Marched directly onto the boat. As soon as all were on board, the gang planks
were lifted, the tugs hooked on, and we were soon slowly moving from the wharf. The band
played GOD SAVE THE KING as we moved off.
As soon as the band stopped playing, a mighty roar rang up from the troops, but quickly,
silence fell over the ship as the sound of AULD LANG SYNE came to our ears, and many a
brave man shed a silent tear unashamedly, as I think we realized for the first time that
many of us would never again return to the land we loved, and, unfortunately, 843 of those
men never did return, and now lie buried in France and Flanders, not ever to be forgotten
by their relatives, and, Comrades with whom they fought.
By the time we reached the open sea, our emotions were somewhat quieted, when early the
following morning we were shocked by the news that came over the air-waves, that the
previous night the giant ship Lusitania had been torpedoed, and sunk with the loss of one
thousand eighteen lives.
We realized then, that we were dealing with a ruthless and merciless enemy.
But what about us? Here were we in a precarious position, following the same course as the
Lusitania, with one thousand troops and sixty of a crew, and 200 nurses on board with no
escort and not a gun to protect ourselves. Fortunately for us, the good Lord was on our
side, for our voyage was uneventful and we arrived safe and sound at Southampton under the
protection, for the last 100 miles, of a British warship. What a heart-warming
sight!
After four months of intensive training in England, (casualties were getting very heavy,
France was hard pushed) we were declared ready for action. So we left camp late one night
in the pouring rain, boarded a ferry boat at Folkstone, and arrived at Boulogne in France
early next morning with the rain still pouring.
We lay on our rubber sheets in the mud until our cooks got organized and breakfast was
served. Soon after breakfast we started out on a 24-hour forced march, with 10-minute rest
periods each hour, until eventually, foot-sore and weary, we arrived at a place named
Dranoutre, two miles behind the firing line at Messines Ridge.
Two days rest, and there into the line to relieve, I think, the Essex or Sussex Regiment,
who were very happy to see us. They had been in the line for fourteen months and expected
to have quite a long rest but instead, they were forced to march a long distance and
immediately thrown into the Battle of Loos, where many or most of then, died within a very
short time of us relieving them.
We were only on Messines Ridge for a short time, when we were moved to a low-lying area of
trenches at a place called Dickebusch, where the trenches were battered down by enemy
fire. Rat and vermin infested, mud almost knee-deep, soaked to the skin day after day life
was almost unbearable. When it wasn't raining it was freezing, which added to our misery.
It was here that I lost one of my closest friends. One bitter cold frosty night, we were
out on listening post in the middle of No Man's Land, about 35 yards from the enemy line,
when he turned to me and whispered “Oldie, look up there. The sky was clear and full
of stars. He said “They tell us, that up there beyond those stars is Heaven, but no
one ever told us where the gate is we had to go through, in order to get there. I wonder
A few days later, he was killed, and I'm sure he found out?
We buried him at Ridgewood, a short distance behind the lines - no beating of the drums,
no beautiful polished oak casket with flashy furnishings, no heaped bank of flowers, just
a staple ceremony. I am sure your hearts would have bled, had you seen, how gently his
comrades lifted his broken body, aid wrapped it in a blanket, and deposited it in the
grave, with just a few words, INTO THY HAND, OUR HEAVENLY FATHER, WE COMMIT THIS OUR
COMRADE. REST IN PEACE.
Simple, yes. But yet how majestic in its simplicity!
No doubt, many of you have seen on television, during the last few days many pictures of
graveyards in France and Flanders, showing row on row of white crosses representing
thousands and thousands, who sacrificed their lives for us in the two World Wars. Yet not
all those graves contained the remains of those whose names were inscribed thereon, for
hundreds could never be found, and their bodies lie buried, God only knows where in some
stinking shell -hole, maybe 20 feet deep. But thank God, their names are registered for
all to see, for all time to come.
The crosses may rot, and their names become obliterated, but time cannot erase their deeds
of valor. Those of us who are left, remember them.
For fifty-three years, we of the 21st Battalion who are left held a reunion, and as each
year passes, our ranks grow thinner, and our ties grow stronger. We speak of those who
have gone before, especially, those who have passed to the Great Beyond during the last
year, and wonder, amongst ourselves, who will be the next, for we are no longer young and
time is passing all too quickly.
We do not fear Death, but speak of it as something that passed us by in the days of our
youth, when all around us was Death and Destruction, but by God's grace, we survived. But
rather, we think of the words of our beloved Padre, who after reading the names of those
who passed away during the last years, comforts the bereaved families by telling them not
to grieve, for He who once said, IN MY FATHER'S HOUSE ARE MANY MANSIONS, BEHOLD, I GO TO
PREPARE A PLACE FOR YOU, WILL BE THERE TO RECEIVE TOM WITH WELCOMING WORDS - WELL DONE,
THOU GOOD AND FAITHFUL SERVANT.
Today, I ask you to think, and remember those thousands of our comrades who lie buried far
from home in North Africa, Italy, Korea, Hong Kong France, Belgium, and beneath the sea
who, by their sacrifice have made it possible for us to worship here today. To think, and
remember all the bereaved families, and whilst thinking, and remembering them, remember
also the bereaved families of our so-called enemies, whose sons and husbands, unlike us,
were forced to fight.
Remember also, all those who are still in hospitals, and have been, all these years, as a
result of War. Especially, do I ask you to remember all those who are mentally deranged as
a result of shell shock, and who in all probability will remain so for the remainder of
their lives.
What can we give for that great sacrifice? What can we do for those who “paid the
price” paid with the good clean blood of their youth?
Have we yet dared to face the truth? We who remember can kneel and pray in the silence of
this solemn day - pray for the wisdom God alone can give - pray for the right to live in
Peace.
The slogan for Poppy Day was THINK AND REMEMBER. There are many things for us to remember,
and to thank God for. The courageous effort of all small boat owners, and the British
Navy, who in the face of the whole strength of the enemy air force, rescued 336 thousand
British and French troops, who were trapped on the beaches of Dunkirk after the collapse
of France.
Thank God, for the courage and tenacity of the combined forces, who in the face of
terrific losses, rushed forward on the beaches of Normandy, and, eventually, liberated
France, for the success of the North African and Italian campaign, and especially, for the
handful of airmen, who although exhausted, fought continuously, day and night, and finally
saved Britain from destruction.
Also, I would ask you to pray that God, in His wisdom, will endow the leaders of the
nations of the world with understanding and tolerance, so that any differences that may
arise, will be settled, with the stroke of a pen, rather than the stroke of the sword, and
pray that our forces of land and sea and air will never again be called upon to fight as
their forefathers have done and that Peace will come to the world once more. And now, to GOD THE FATHER,-GOD THE SON, AND GOD THE HOLY GHOST, be ascribed, ALL MIGHT, MAJESTY, DOMINION AND POWER, NOW AND FOREVER. AMEN
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Below is
from the August 1934 issue of the Communiqué. This is discussing the January 17,
1917 Calonne Trench Raid involving over 800 men. |
