Compiled by Alex Weller

Windermere Valley 

Museum and Archives

The outbreak of the First World War on August 4, 1914 changed the lives of people around the world. Although the fighting took place far from the mountains and lakes of the Windermere Valley, the conflict was a changing force in local history. Hundreds of men left to fight overseas and many never returned.

A 1940s report states that 233 men left the valley to fight during the course of the war. Museum researchers have found the names of 164, a number of whom only came to the area after the war was over. 

Before the outbreak of the First World War, the Windermere Valley was home to both long-time residents (arriving from the mid 1880s) as well as hundreds of newcomers looking for a fresh start in a young country. 

One of these men was Captain John Noel (Jack) Phillips, a soldier who had previously served with the Lincolnshire Regiment in various African conflicts before resigning his commission. In 1912 at age 37, he and his new wife Daisy made the move to Canada. When war broke out in 1914, both knew it was only a matter of time before Jack was recalled to his regiment. When the call finally came just before Christmas, they quickly packed up what they could and left the Windermere Valley, never to return. Four months later, Jack was dead: the first local recruit to have died during action. There were two additional local casualties within the week.

War is declared

When Britain declared war on Germany on August 4, 1914 it quickly became a major topic of discussion among valley residents. 

Mollie Marples (later Mollie Laird) remembers the day distinctly: “August 4, 1914 sticks in my mind because dad had taken Ken up to Paradice (sic) Mine  for a short holiday and on that day war was declared. There was also a large forest fire up Toby Creek that day. We had no way of knowing whether the fire was between Jack Pine (the stopping place on Toby Creek for anyone going to the mine) and home. The smoke was thick and the sun shone through making it and everything in the valley look orange and red. I remember mother standing on the verandah and watching for dad and Ken’s return and the relief when they were sighted coming up the hill in the buggy behind good old Maggie.”

The Invermere cenotaph with 18 names of the fallen.
PHOTO ALEX WELLER

As a Dominion of the British Empire, Canada was automatically involved in the war, however, as a self-governing nation, it could choose the extent of its commitment. In its initial response the government decided to send 16 battalions overseas (about 25,000 men), with two thirds of these initial enlistees being British born. When this first contingent sailed on October 3, 1914, it was the largest movement of Canadians in the history of the country. Three further contingents followed in the years to come, totalling 299,937 individuals at the end of 1916 as part of the Canadian Expeditionary Forces (CEF). Early contingents consisted mostly of British born individuals, however, by the end of the war the total of Canadian born in the CEF was 51 per cent.

Signing up

Reasons for enlistment varied. Initially, it was enough that Britain was in danger, however, as more lives were lost, recruiting messages encouraged men to keep faith with the fallen. 

Most expected the war to be over by Christmas; after all, no national economy could stand the strain for more than a few months. For many British natives, a paid trip back home for a short, decisive war seemed promising. Economic considerations were also important. After two years of economic depression in Canada, a daily wage, food and board, and the promise of adventure was an attractive proposal. As the war dragged on, however, peer pressure and feelings of obligation often overran any ideas of glory or economic benefit. Civilians back home had a very good idea of conditions overseas, but popular opinion saw no good reason for single men not to join up, and guilt and public shaming were powerful motivators.

Initially there were high physical and medical standards to enter the CEF. Recruitment tended to favour those with military experience, and recruits were expected to be five foot three with good teeth (having lost fewer than 10), high arches, healthy lungs, and between 18 and 45 years. Husbands also needed a letter from their wives giving them permission to enlist, and well into 1915 men were returned to their families from overseas at the request of their wives. As high casualty rates increased, however, this practice was quietly dropped. Recruitment standards also lowered until in 1916 pretty much anyone was accepted.

The wage for a private was roughly equivalent to the poorest paid labourer at the start of the war, however, food and board were also supplied. Privates were paid $1.10 a day, with married soldiers also receiving a separation allowance to help their families. This separation allowance was not enough though, and individual towns had fundraising campaigns for the Patriotic Board, which pledged to help soldiers’ families. Intentions were well meant, but ultimately some families were left behind.

Overseas

Conditions overseas were far from pleasant. The Western Front stretched from Belgium down to Switzerland and boasted 500 miles of trenches and barbed wire. Trenches were dug down as much as six feet, although they were much more shallow if the ground was wet. Sandbags were piled in front to offer an additional two to three feet of cover, and constant maintenance of these rotting protections was necessary. The trench system itself was extremely complex. Estimates indicate that for every kilometre across, the British trench system had almost 50 kilometres of communication and support trenches.

Sergeant Frank Brogden Hume, who enlisted in Athalmer in 1916, was killed by a sniper while directing the evacuation of a trench.
PHOTO MUSEUM AND ARCHIVES

The trenches themselves varied greatly depending on their location and the time of year. The smell of urine, seldom washed bodies, and decaying flesh could only be masked by smoking strong cigarettes. Those on the front lines faced constant danger. Even in a few days a battalion could lose a dozen or more men, either dead or wounded by snipers and random shellfire. For those injured the largest concern was infection. Trenches wound through farmers’ fields, which for centuries had seen countless amounts of human and animal manure. In an age before antibiotics, effective treatment required long periods of rest or “convalescence” in hospitals back in England. 

Being wounded was not pleasant, but there was a 93 per cent survival rate for those who reached a doctor.

The home front

The mass exodus of young men going overseas left the Windermere District quite empty. On June 3, 1915, local rancher Charles Ellis wrote about attending a Red Cross sports event in Invermere where “The day was fine and the crowd consisted of almost everyone in the valley, which is now mostly children.” Although the population of the district before the war is unknown, in June 1918 the total population (from Canal Flats to Spillimacheen) was thought to be “at a conservative estimate … say, 500 souls, all told.”

It was a long four years for anyone involved in the war, and those left behind remained active in efforts to support “the boys.” Red Cross societies emerged to raise money by hosting sports days, teas, and moving picture shows. One account of a Red Cross fundraiser in Wilmer describes a sale of items made entirely from flour sacks, a venture that must have tested the creativity of women in the area, but managed to raise over one hundred dollars.

A number of other social changes emerged in Canada during the war years. Prohibition was passed in September 1917, prompting Basil G. Hamilton to write, “George Starke, the local hotel proprietor, is much thought of and personal sympathy is expressed to him.” 

Women were also given the vote for the first time in December 1917, and 11 out of 13 women in Invermere took part. In this first vote, only mothers, sisters, and wives of servicemen were permitted to go to the ballet box. Conscription was also hotly debated in the summer of 1917, although it seemed most in Invermere accepted it as a foregone conclusion. The Military Service Act passed in August of that year ultimately saw 99,591 men in uniform, 24,231 of which joined battalions in France. Two men with local ties are known to have been drafted for service under the Act: both served in France, and both survived.

Reports of the impending Armistice reached the Windermere Valley on November 7, 1918, and in every community huge bonfires were set and there was “general jubilation over [the] coming peace.” It was almost anti-climactic when the actual peace treaty was signed on November 11. News was met with relief, however, “there were no celebrations locally this time beyond raising flags and all very joyful.”

A lasting legacy

Just because the action overseas was over didn’t end the suffering. Thousands more died of wounds, disease, accidents, foul play, and suicides. Soldiers who returned home from the war were forever changed. Not only were there physical wounds, but many soldiers were on their own in dealing with memories of their experiences. Post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) was only formally accepted as a diagnosis in the medical field in 1980, and opinions at the time of “shell shock” varied. According to one medical historian directly after the war, shell shock was “a manifestation of childishness and femininity” and as such was best cured by offering no pension, no encouragement, and no medical record.

Percy Docking and family in 1946. He worked on Trinity United Church and the pool in Radium.
PHOTO MUSEUM AND ARCHIVES

In the long term, helping veterans return to society ultimately fell to local resources including municipalities, civilian groups, and the veterans themselves. Groups such as the Great War Veterans Association (later the Royal Canadian Legion) provided a support system for the men and a united front to lobby for continued recognition and support. Despite these efforts, a number of men fell through the cracks. In 1930, war veteran Dennis Greenwood was shot and killed in front of his wife and children on the main street of Canal Flats. The shooter, William Floyd, was described as a quiet, soft spoken man who had been a sniper during the war and was awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal for gallantry in the field. At his trial, the judge heard that recent family and financial troubles, as well as being summoned to court earlier for a poaching incident had “unhinged his mind.” Exhibiting symptoms that today might suggest PTSD, Floyd was found not guilty by reason of insanity.

On a larger scale, the First World War was a catalyst for change and reform across Canada. The four years overseas prompted the evolution of a Canadian identity that shifted from a British colony to a sovereign nation with a unique character. In the streets and towns, war transformed daily life. Cigarette smoking and the wristwatch became widespread, and women abandoned restrictive clothing. Four years of trench warfare also brought about changes in orthopedics and rehabilitation medicine, and brought attention to the power of immunization and proper hygienic practices.

In remembrance

Immediately following the war, citizens felt that commemoration should begin, and towns and cities in every region erected monuments for the fallen during the interwar period. In Invermere, the original cenotaph was erected in 1925. A general war memorial is also in place in Edgewater.

On New Years’ Eve of 1918, valley rancher Charles Ellis wrote in his journal, “The year is ended. The war is over. Time will heal our wounds, but the sorrows will always, always blight the lives of our generation. No future however bright can make us forget.” 

C.D. Ellis’ generation has disappeared, but no future, however bright, lessens our responsibility to remember.