As a child, I remember his face…
For as long as I can remember, his picture hung in a large, ornate wooden frame in the living room of my grandparent’s home in Sarnia, Ontario. His face intrigued me, made me sad, but eventually lead me on a journey that I am still taking today.
My grandparents, Harvey and Evelyn Ginn, along with their eight young children, left their family and home in Corner Brook, Newfoundland, moving to Sarnia in 1954. My grandfather began a career with Polysar, shortly after. Very few possessions accompanied them on their journey. My mother Alma, the second-oldest child, still to this day at 70 years of age, longs to see a photo of herself and her family prior to her 15th birthday. One photo they did bring however was that of a young man with a sweet, trusting face. I knew he must be a part of our family as he carried so many of the physical traits of many of my relatives. I asked Grandpa about him once, but the sadness in his eyes kept me from pursuing the issue any further than the short explanation he gave to me. Grandpa Harvey said he was his older brother who had died during the First World War, somewhere in England. Nothing else was ever mentioned. In an age lacking modern communication, maybe this is all he knew or wanted to know. With great sadness Grandpa Harvey died in 1985, but the photo still remained.
Five years ago I made my first trip to England. Meeting so many people that were searching for their relatives gave me the inspiration to do what I should have done sooner. The more I searched for him, the stronger my desire to know more became.
My first step was to find his name. After wading through Grandpa Harvey’s favourite bible, a portable filing cabinet, I came upon Grandpa’s family tree. There it was, his name was Thomas Ginn. I unfortunately, had never heard his name spoken. Apparently he was named in honour of his grandfather, also from Fogo Island. Written beside his name was a birth date but nothing else. Could this be the missing brother? The young face in the picture? On advice from a friend Carolyn, who had searched to find information on her father’s death in the Second World War, I was given the name of a website to assist my search.
“The Canadian Virtual War Memorial,” sponsored by Affairs Canada, came to my rescue. I entered the name of Thomas Ginn, held my breath and waited. Within two minutes, I had put a name and a partial story to a face that had been such a part of my life. Thomas, of the Newfoundland Royal Naval Reserve, Division H.M.S. , Service number 2266/X died on September 3, 1917, at 22 years of age. He was the son of Mr. & Mrs. Walter Scott Ginn of Fogo , Newfoundland, and brother to my then nine year old grandfather, Harvey.
Considering this was his big brother, it was no wonder the pain was still so strong in his heart those many years later. Thomas is buried in Gillingham (Woodlands) Cemetery, Kent, England, plot Naval 18.957. Ironically, in 2008, I was less than 30 km from his grave site in England and didn’t know it. I now had the information to answer another very important question, “How did he die and where?”
Upon obtaining the basic information, I was then able to move forward and acquire the additional details. I have heard many people tell stories as to the effect of war on themselves, friends or relatives, but to this one I felt especially close. This was a story of a young man that someone, especially his family, should know and remember. Through this process I realized that if my grandfather had been aware of the horrible way in which his brother had died, I am sure he would have found it hard to relay it to others. Grandpa Harvey was a sensitive man with a kind heart and beautiful spirit. This story would have surely hurt him beyond belief, especially at nine years of age. I am certain, the grief his parents showed, was in itself devastating to him.
It was 1914 and Canada had entered World War 1. Europe was in turmoil and Canadians were contributing their part, sending many family members to their deaths. The unfortunate reality was that many of these families never had the opportunity to view or bury their loved ones, they would forever remain shrouded in mystery, in another land, someone else’s country. Facts, locations, stories of their death, would only be relayed through the limited news agencies, letters of witnesses or government agencies. The heartache of sending these young men so far away knowing they may never return, must have made their last days, hours, minutes and moments, so very precious. It was these thoughts that brought me so much closer to him.
Through various records I discovered that Thomas had enlisted around the same time as the United States entered the fight, early 1917. This was one year prior to the “Newfoundland Offensive,” the battle for Passchendaele Ridge. The Newfoundland Battalion assisted in breaking through the enemy’s front, “The Flanders’s Position,” which sadly took the life of his cousin William Ginn, also of Fogo. Unlike his cousin however, Thomas never had the opportunity to predict what was to come or defend himself.
It was Monday evening, September 3, 1917, and over 900 men were resting or asleep in their hammocks in the Drill Hall, of the Medway Royal Navy Barracks in Chatham, England. The Drill Hall, constructed of brick, covered with a quarter-inch glass ceiling, had been utilized as a warehouse. Due to the sinking of the H.M.S. Vanguard, along with an outbreak of “spotted fever,” this particular evening the hall was housing a temporary overflow of men. The combination of the full moon and hall lights as seen through the glass ceiling of the hall, provided the four German Gothas, each loaded with 300 lbs of bombs, a formidable target. At 11:12 pm., as two bombs fell, so did the quarter-inch sheets of glass covering the hall. Most men asleep in their night attire found it impossible to protect themselves. It was this glass that did more damage overall than the bombs themselves. It was a horrific sight, men with missing limbs and heads, mutilated bodies, and those simply in shock or who died as a result of shock, combined with the cries and moans of dying men. Over 90 men were instantly killed in their hammocks, with 45 being transported to hospitals, only to die later. The work of the rescuers was a tedious task. Many of the limbs and body parts were strewn about to be collected into bags or laid out with the hopes of positive identification. They continued well into the evening and most of the next day. In the end, the official reported listed 130 killed and 88 wounded.
On Thursday, September 6th, 96 of the dead, each with his own coffin, were taken in a procession to the cemetery in Woodlands Road, Gillingham, followed by ministers and priests, marching soldiers and sailors, to be buried with full military honours. Other soldiers were either transported home, or later identified and the remains then buried. Thousands of local residents lined the streets to pay respect. This is a journey Thomas would have taken. It must have been a solemn sight when over 5,000 spectators were called to ‘‘attention,’’ by the Commander, as a band of buglers played the Last Post in honour of their friends and shipmates.
I have lived my life with a picture of this young man in my mind, never knowing who he was or what had taken him from us. I have addressed the latter but look forward to finding more about his earlier life. He has brought me closer to the roots of the Ginn family and I trust I will find further contacts as a result. Maybe those who have gone before us draw us closer, introducing us to new experiences, family and friends…or maybe they too do not want to be forgotten. I look forward to the journey he has yet to take me on.
If anyone has any information on the Ginn Family originating in Fogo I would be so appreciative to hear from them.
Esther Hall
emhall@cogeco.ca
Submitted By: Esther Hall
