Remembering Ernest

Private Ernest Montsion

Ernest was born on November 13, 1891 in Cornwall, Ontario.  His parents were Rose Delima and Marcellin Montsion.  He had 4 brothers; Eugene, Alphonse, Wilfred, and Leo as well as two sisters, Alexina and my grandmother, Philomene.  On the back of this photo, mom had written "mother's baby brother" an indication that he was very special to his family.  I thought he was a very handsome young man, and in fact, have noted a noticeable likeness to my son, Christian. It's the only photo I have of Ernest and highly treasured, to be sure.

Ernest signed up for the military service on November 26, 1917 at the age of 26 years and 4 months.  At that time, he was living in Walkerburn, Manitoba with his parents.  He was single.

 As it turned out, I have more documents on Ernest than I have on any of mom's other relatives. I am fortunate to have a letter that he had written to his parents in April of 1918, just a few months before he was killed.  Written in french, of course, some of which I can make out, and on the bottom right hand corner, his name. 

He died on September 29, 1918, barely a year after he enlisted and after researching his name on the War Archives website, I discovered his name in the First World War Book of Remembrance, commemorated on Page 473.  He is buried in Haynecourt British Cemetery, in Nord, France and it gives the exact location of the cemetery.  Ernest's brothers also enlisted in the military, but as far as I am aware, he was the only member of his family to die in action.

This letter informs a mother that her son died while serving his country at the age of 27 years.  It must have been so unbelievably painful for Rose Delima to receive such a letter. How many other letters were sent just like this one?   A soldier, a hero?  Just a young man, like so many others, so far from home,  doing what he thought was right.   A picture, some fragile, faded letters and a name in the Book of Remembrance.  Today, I remember Ernest Montsion, a soldier, a son, a hero. 

And some there be who no memorial have;
Who perished are as though they’d never been.
For our tomorrows their today they gave,
And simply asked that in our hearts they'd live.
We heed their call and pledge ourselves again,
At dusk and dawn - we will remember them!

Charles Henrywood