Re: It is such a relief to have come thru’ these past years, Dec. 29.
Thank you for the series of Christmas war letters from soldiers overseas in the First World War. My soul was both saddened and nourished by their thoughts, feelings and faith.
One letter from Christmas 1918 referred to the Spanish flu epidemic. It reminded me of something my Dad told us.
My father was Pte. Eber W. Robinson, Reg. #3325075, of Marvelville, Ont. He was still in training at the end of the war, stationed at the seaside base at Seaford, southeast England. He used to tell us of one assignment given to him and his mates for weeks if not months after the armistice was signed. They were marched out each morning to the local cemeteries to dig graves for the victims of the flu.
Sometimes I visualize them, athletic young men, marching along a country lane — a platoon or section, depending on the number of graves to be dug that day, their boots polished, their uniforms pressed and their brass buttons gleaming. Over their shoulders would be slung, not a rifle, but a spade or pickax. In late afternoon their return would be obvious for all to see, their uniforms white from the chalk in which they had been digging, a ghostly sight!
Dad told us the depth of any given grave was determined by the number in the family to be buried there. They buried caskets one on top of the other, rather than side by side, to conserve space. I assume the cemeteries provided the ladders, buckets and ropes for the task.
Other Citizen readers may have similar stories to tell, not of heroism but of the acceptance of duty in a time of need.
Ken Robinson, Ottawa
