Soon after the mother
of Sergeant George Burgess had been officially informed of his death at the
front, she received the following letter, a letter reprinted in the Hamilton
Spectator of March 18, 1915:
"March
2, 1915
“Dear Madam :
“It is with sorrow and
regret that I write these few lines. I am Sergeant Anderson, of Hamilton, and
my wife lives at 40 Shaw street.
“Your husband and I
were pals during the campaign, and up to lately in the same platoon. We used to
grub together and look after each other and that last I saw of him while alive
was when he brought up with his men some entrenching tools to my trench. We had
a jaw about the rum and relations, and he went away laughing in the dark.
“You can understand
the shock I got when the officer visited our trench the following evening and
told me that your husband was killed. I cannot realize it yet, and I often look
round for his cheery face. We often, as married men and comrades, discussed our
wives and children, and he loved you and his children beyond all else, and
often talked of you all. I have asked my wife to visit you.
“If God spares me to
come back, I shall look after your interests to the best of my ability, for your
sake and the children of my old comrade. We promised to do this for each other.
“The particulars of
your husband’s death are as follows : He was in the supports of the firing
line. The firing trench was on my right, which the Princess Pat’s charged and captured
from our enemy.
“We had a lot of casualties
and they kept crawling in nearly all day. One man shot in three places, got
back quite a way, but was practically exhausted and could do no more. Word
reached the supports of his condition and your husband and some men volunteered
to bring him in. They crawled as far as possible, but at one place had to
expose themselves to the enemy’s fire.
“Your husband, like a
good soldier, led the way. He was shot through the head. Death was instantaneous
and he suffered none. He gave his life
as a soldier and a man to save his comrade.
“Well loved by the
whole company and regiment, we buried him like a soldier and a man, and his
grave, although on foreign soil, shall be marked and looked after.
“I can only close by
adding, may God bless you and the children and comfort you in your trouble. If
at any time I can help you, if I live to get back, you have only to call on me.
“Faithfully
yours,
G.
Anderson,
Sergeant
1st Class, P.P.C.L.L.
P.S. Enclosed is a bit of Scotch
heather that he carried.”1
1 “Burgess Died
a Hero’s Death With the Pats : Trying to Rescue Wounded Comrade When Killed.”
Hamilton
Spectator. March 29, 1915.
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