A grandfather remembered through a monument and wartime letters
My grandpa George Giles’ job during the First World War was to walk through a hail of flying steel and neutralize its perpetrators. To inflict this brand of havoc amid Grandpa and his co-workers, the opposition had a wondrous variety of implements at their disposal. This included massive cannons to let fly their “five-nines” and “whizbangs,” while trench mortars unleashed the deadly “Minnenwerfer” (or “Minnie” to Canadian recipients).
And to encourage Grandpa not to linger in a muddy trench were infestations of lice and rats. Unfortunately, emerging to go to work introduced the possibility of getting killed and leaving behind a grieving widow and four small children.
Which is precisely what happened. Pte. George Thomas Giles, Lewis gunner with the 58th Battalion, 3rd Division, had failed to return to the line of ditches stretching the roughly 700 kilometres from Switzerland to the North Sea — the Western Front. He was killed Oct. 17, 1916, during the Battle of the Somme, a seemingly endless horror show. His body was never recovered.
Immediately after the First World War, Canadian politicians rallied to honour the dead. There would be eight monuments at major battle sites, seven identical, but one on Vimy Ridge to be unique — the first place Canadians fought as a unit. Those killed at the Somme bereft of graves would have their names engraved on the new creation.
My grandma Sophia Giles was present on July 25, 1936, at the unveiling of the monument by King Edward VIII. She was on the Pilgrimage to Vimy and Battlefields, organized by the Canadian Legion. Six thousand veterans, their spouses, and the wives and mothers of the dead participated.
It began with a voyage to France aboard five ships. Sophia Giles was on the S.S. Antonia. Each “pilgrim” had been given a beret, the Vimy Pilgrimage Medal, and a guidebook. It contained the itinerary: “Sunday, July 26 — All parties converge on Vimy Ridge for the unveiling of the Memorial by His Majesty the King at 2:30 p.m.” My grandmother would have proudly witnessed the dedication: “To the valour of their countrymen in the Great War and in memory of the 60,000 dead this monument is raised by the people of Canada.”
One day, Grandma handed me a shoe box; it contained letters from her husband during the war. They describe major concerns — especially food!
First, from England: “I was sitting munching a chunk of bread about two inches thick with margarine and a canteen of tea with the British navy in tea leaves floating on top. The thought came of what I would be having for Sunday supper at home. Well, I was pretty near throwing it down in disgust but hunger forced me to eat it.”
Later in France he was thrilled by a “dandy parcel” from home: “The cake was fine, as well as the lobster, in fact the whole lot was voted A1 both by myself and the others I invited to share with me.”
Totally unwelcome was canned meat: “The dugouts and trenches are full of it and we can have it for breakfast, dinner and supper if we want. I’ve seen bombers punch a hole in a can, stick a detonator in it and throw it in the German trench where it explodes with a devil of a noise and scares the wits out of Fritz.”
His only other remark about the foe: “Well My Dear I’ve had my first crack in the trenches and I’ll tell you it was wicked. The Germans shelled the tar out of us several times.”
George’s major concern was the wellbeing of his family. Eager to return, he reassured, “I may be a little stouter in the face and I’m wearing a dinky moustache as that seems the fashion in the army but I’ll push it off my face before I start for home as I don’t want to scare the local population into hysterics.”
The final letter is not from “Loving Hubby,” but Gen. Sir Sam Hughes, minister of defence: “Dear Mrs. Giles: Will you kindly accept my sincere sympathy and condolence in the decease of that worthy citizen and heroic soldier, your husband, Private George Thomas Giles.”
While one cannot too deeply mourn the loss of such a brave comrade, there is a consolation in knowing that he did his duty fearlessly and well, and gave his life for the cause of liberty and the upbuilding of the empire.
Pierre Berton, author of “Vimy,” was asked how the battle would be remembered: “It will be said that this was the signal victory, the first major British victory in [the First World War], that it was fought almost entirely by Canadians, and that it was won by careful planning, elastic thinking, and by the panache of the people of those times.”