C A M E O O F T H E M O N T H
Each month I will put on the website the story of a soldier who died during the First World War.
They are selected at random.
Each month I will put on the website the story of a soldier who died during the First World War.
They are selected at random.
Kemmel Château Military Cemetery
71568 Private John Grant Anderson
27th Battalion Canadian Infantry (Manitoba Regiment)
Died on Wednesday 13th October 1915, aged 20
Grave reference K. 45.
Died on Wednesday 13th October 1915, aged 20
Grave reference K. 45.
Grant was born at South Weald, Brentwood, Essex, on Tuesday 20th November 1894, younger son of Lieutenant Colonel John Grant Anderson, Military Knight of Windsor (late Leicestershire Regiment), and Beatrice Anderson, of 14 Castle Yard, Windsor Castle, Berkshire. John had older siblings, Henry and Beatrice. He was educated at Christ’s Hospital, Horsham, from 1904 to 1910 and at the Imperial Service College, Windsor, where he served in the OTC.
In June 1912 Grant emigrated to Manitoba, Canada and took up farming.
Grant enlisted on Wednesday 28th October 1914, he was 5ft 10½in tall, with a 40in chest, weighed 148lbs, had a dark complexion, blue eyes, dark brown hair, and a scar on the right side of his forehead. He came over with the Second Canadian Contingent sailing on the SS Carpathia (the ship that rescued the survivors of RMS Titanic). After disembarking he entrained for Shorncliffe, Kent, where he arrived on Friday 28th May 1915. Following training in Otterpool, Kent, and the traditional Royal inspection by HM King George on Friday 3rd September, Grant sailed from Folkestone, Kent, for Boulogne on Friday 17th September. He arrived the next day and marched to a camp where he rested for a short while. Grant entrained for St Omer then marched to St Sylvestre where training continued. General Sir Herbert Plumer inspected the Brigade on Monday 20th. The next day Grant marched off on Wednesday 22nd, crossed the border into Belgium and on to ‘Bulford Farm’. General Sir Edwin Alderson addressed the Battalion on Saturday 25th after which the Battalion moved to billets in Loker. Lieutenant Ralph Jones wrote: “We are still in comfortable billets marking time, but expect to be called to the trenches any day now. On the night I last wrote you I think we were off for the firing line; instead, we walked miles along cobblestone roads, through at least one shell-shattered village, to this Nuns’ School for children, close to the local church and churchyard, with its many crosses of recent date, bearing some English Tommies’ names, I see.
After General Alderson’s speech to us at our last billets, he called for the ‘Maple Leaf’, then ‘God Save the King’, which all sang lustily. Rain was falling, and the men were permitted to break off without reforming, after having surrounded the speaker in a great mass. Supper was soon served and kit got ready, and at 8.30 p.m. the regiment was drawn up on the muddy road opposite our huts. Major MacLeod brought out an acetylene gas lamp, and its bright light thrown on the long line of men, four deep, in dripping and shiny ground waterproof sheets, which they used as capes, made a picture never to be forgotten by some of us. Our Chaplain, Major Beatty, who was with the 1st Division before, addressed us in manly tones, called for a well-known hymn, which all ranks sang heartily, and then offered up a prayer. Roll call had been checked over before, and a moment or two after the goodbye address, etc., the whole regiment moved off into the darkness in absolute silence but for the tramping of feet on the muddy road, not even smoking being allowed. As we marched along, it seemed we came fairly close to the firing line at different points, as we could see star shells being shot into the air now and again not very far away, and could hear intermittent firing as well. Star shells, are, as a rule, only used in the front line trenches, I understand. We passed much transport en route, of course, motor and horse-drawn vehicles, and a large gun drawn by six heavy draught horses made us move to one side until its whole equipment passed, creating no little interest, as few, I am sure, could help wondering where it would likely be lodged in our rear.”
Grant marched with his comrades on Friday 1st October via Dranouter to Lindenhoek where Headquarters were established in ‘Tea Farm’. Lieutenant Jones wrote on Tuesday 5th October: “I am sitting in my own special little dugout, the walls of which are lined with sand bags. There are two small tables about two feet by two feet square, made of rough pieces of board and parts of boxes, and my door has even got an old fashioned handle and bolt, the latter on the outside and workable from the inside as well. The window is about two feet by eight inches wide and simply a hole. The roof is well covered with corrugated iron sheets, on top of which sand bags are piled, then dirt, and the whole supported by four stout timbers, none squared except the front one. The space I have inside is about four feet by seven feet and mostly taken up by a six feet by two feet bed. I am in charge of a ‘Keep’ for the support of the front line trenches and am well off indeed, the only danger being from shrapnel, ‘Jack Johnsons’ and stray bullets. They shell our immediate surroundings frequently, and while one bombardment was going on in response to an awakening our guns gave the Gerboys, I wrote a couple of letters indoors while listening to the big fellows whistling and half wheezing and shrieking as they passed. It was most uncomfortable at times too, as one could not help wondering where, say, that one just this moment which is hovering hesitatingly, it would seem just overhead, would land. The very big ones come up something like steam engines and make an awful row when they crash to earth scattering steel, mud and twigs in every direction. The first day I spent in the front line I saw a tree cut as clean as one could wish by a small shrapnel shell. Most of the men seem to like trench life better than the huts or dugouts in rear, from which they have to come down here as fatigue parties often when they would sooner rest up.
What amazes me now is how easily we get used to it all. My desire is to get out over a front line parapet and crawl along between the lines in search of annoying snipers. Others have done it and are doing it every night and meeting with success occasionally, when there is much rejoicing. It is a far safer operation too than you can imagine owing to the well known undulations of ground that are always likely to occur between lines 35 to 300 yards apart.”
Grant volunteered for bombing and grenade duties but was killed as a result of a high explosive shell that burst in his trench.
Major William Beattie, Senior Chaplain, wrote: “Your boy made many dear friends in the battn., and leaves a record that others might be proud to emulate.”
Lieutenant Cay wrote: “I want to say how much I appreciate the way in which all his work was done. You will know what I mean when I say he was a real soldier.”
Private C A Smith wrote: “I can’t say enough for him. Everybody had a good word for him, the bravest and kindest boy that ever lived.”
His gravestone inscription reads: “Beloved son of Lt. Col. J. G. Anderson, Military Knight of Windsor”.
In June 1912 Grant emigrated to Manitoba, Canada and took up farming.
Grant enlisted on Wednesday 28th October 1914, he was 5ft 10½in tall, with a 40in chest, weighed 148lbs, had a dark complexion, blue eyes, dark brown hair, and a scar on the right side of his forehead. He came over with the Second Canadian Contingent sailing on the SS Carpathia (the ship that rescued the survivors of RMS Titanic). After disembarking he entrained for Shorncliffe, Kent, where he arrived on Friday 28th May 1915. Following training in Otterpool, Kent, and the traditional Royal inspection by HM King George on Friday 3rd September, Grant sailed from Folkestone, Kent, for Boulogne on Friday 17th September. He arrived the next day and marched to a camp where he rested for a short while. Grant entrained for St Omer then marched to St Sylvestre where training continued. General Sir Herbert Plumer inspected the Brigade on Monday 20th. The next day Grant marched off on Wednesday 22nd, crossed the border into Belgium and on to ‘Bulford Farm’. General Sir Edwin Alderson addressed the Battalion on Saturday 25th after which the Battalion moved to billets in Loker. Lieutenant Ralph Jones wrote: “We are still in comfortable billets marking time, but expect to be called to the trenches any day now. On the night I last wrote you I think we were off for the firing line; instead, we walked miles along cobblestone roads, through at least one shell-shattered village, to this Nuns’ School for children, close to the local church and churchyard, with its many crosses of recent date, bearing some English Tommies’ names, I see.
After General Alderson’s speech to us at our last billets, he called for the ‘Maple Leaf’, then ‘God Save the King’, which all sang lustily. Rain was falling, and the men were permitted to break off without reforming, after having surrounded the speaker in a great mass. Supper was soon served and kit got ready, and at 8.30 p.m. the regiment was drawn up on the muddy road opposite our huts. Major MacLeod brought out an acetylene gas lamp, and its bright light thrown on the long line of men, four deep, in dripping and shiny ground waterproof sheets, which they used as capes, made a picture never to be forgotten by some of us. Our Chaplain, Major Beatty, who was with the 1st Division before, addressed us in manly tones, called for a well-known hymn, which all ranks sang heartily, and then offered up a prayer. Roll call had been checked over before, and a moment or two after the goodbye address, etc., the whole regiment moved off into the darkness in absolute silence but for the tramping of feet on the muddy road, not even smoking being allowed. As we marched along, it seemed we came fairly close to the firing line at different points, as we could see star shells being shot into the air now and again not very far away, and could hear intermittent firing as well. Star shells, are, as a rule, only used in the front line trenches, I understand. We passed much transport en route, of course, motor and horse-drawn vehicles, and a large gun drawn by six heavy draught horses made us move to one side until its whole equipment passed, creating no little interest, as few, I am sure, could help wondering where it would likely be lodged in our rear.”
Grant marched with his comrades on Friday 1st October via Dranouter to Lindenhoek where Headquarters were established in ‘Tea Farm’. Lieutenant Jones wrote on Tuesday 5th October: “I am sitting in my own special little dugout, the walls of which are lined with sand bags. There are two small tables about two feet by two feet square, made of rough pieces of board and parts of boxes, and my door has even got an old fashioned handle and bolt, the latter on the outside and workable from the inside as well. The window is about two feet by eight inches wide and simply a hole. The roof is well covered with corrugated iron sheets, on top of which sand bags are piled, then dirt, and the whole supported by four stout timbers, none squared except the front one. The space I have inside is about four feet by seven feet and mostly taken up by a six feet by two feet bed. I am in charge of a ‘Keep’ for the support of the front line trenches and am well off indeed, the only danger being from shrapnel, ‘Jack Johnsons’ and stray bullets. They shell our immediate surroundings frequently, and while one bombardment was going on in response to an awakening our guns gave the Gerboys, I wrote a couple of letters indoors while listening to the big fellows whistling and half wheezing and shrieking as they passed. It was most uncomfortable at times too, as one could not help wondering where, say, that one just this moment which is hovering hesitatingly, it would seem just overhead, would land. The very big ones come up something like steam engines and make an awful row when they crash to earth scattering steel, mud and twigs in every direction. The first day I spent in the front line I saw a tree cut as clean as one could wish by a small shrapnel shell. Most of the men seem to like trench life better than the huts or dugouts in rear, from which they have to come down here as fatigue parties often when they would sooner rest up.
What amazes me now is how easily we get used to it all. My desire is to get out over a front line parapet and crawl along between the lines in search of annoying snipers. Others have done it and are doing it every night and meeting with success occasionally, when there is much rejoicing. It is a far safer operation too than you can imagine owing to the well known undulations of ground that are always likely to occur between lines 35 to 300 yards apart.”
Grant volunteered for bombing and grenade duties but was killed as a result of a high explosive shell that burst in his trench.
Major William Beattie, Senior Chaplain, wrote: “Your boy made many dear friends in the battn., and leaves a record that others might be proud to emulate.”
Lieutenant Cay wrote: “I want to say how much I appreciate the way in which all his work was done. You will know what I mean when I say he was a real soldier.”
Private C A Smith wrote: “I can’t say enough for him. Everybody had a good word for him, the bravest and kindest boy that ever lived.”
His gravestone inscription reads: “Beloved son of Lt. Col. J. G. Anderson, Military Knight of Windsor”.