Memories of World War 1 and 2

Douglas Murray Wilson: A Personal History from World War I

Introduction

This report presents the oral and social history of Douglas Murray Wilson, a World War I serviceman in the Canadian Expeditionary Force. As part of an ongoing project to document the experiences of those drafted into WWI, this personal history offers insight into one individual's contribution to the war effort and creates a historical connection to his descendant, current Exton resident Peter.

Personal Background

Douglas Murray Wilson was born on February 26, 1893, in Galashiels, Scotland, to Walter and Annie Wilson. By 1914, he had relocated to Montreal, Quebec, where he worked as an Architect Surveyor. His parents' address at the time of his enlistment was Wardhill, Horsforth, North Yorkshire, indicating his family had moved from Scotland to England.

Military Service

Enlistment and Prior Experience

• Enlistment Date: October 23, 1914
• Previous Military Experience: 3 years with the Yorkshire Hussars
• Service Number: 66066
• Rank: Corporal

Unit Assignment

Douglas was assigned to C Company of the 24th Battalion (Victoria Rifles) of the Canadian Expeditionary Force. The Victoria Rifles was a prestigious Montreal militia regiment with a history dating back to 1862.

Deployment

On May 11, 1915, Douglas departed Canada aboard the SS Cameronia with C Company of the 24th Battalion CEF. A photograph from this date captures this historic moment as these men set sail to join the Allied forces in Europe.

Historical Context

When Douglas enlisted in October 1914, the war was just two months old. Canada, as part of the British Empire, had automatically entered the conflict when Britain declared war on Germany on August 4, 1914. The Canadian Expeditionary Force would ultimately contribute over 600,000 men and women to the war effort, with more than 60,000 losing their lives.

Douglas's decision to enlist within the first few months of the conflict reflects the patriotic fervor that swept across Canada and the British Empire during this time. As an architect surveyor with military experience, his skills would have been valuable to the war effort.

Significance

Douglas Murray Wilson's story represents the experience of many who answered the call to service during World War I. His Scottish birth, English family connections, and Canadian enlistment demonstrate the interconnected nature of the British Empire's war effort and the personal sacrifices made by individuals across continents.

His descendant Peter, now an Exton resident, maintains this important family connection to one of the defining global conflicts of the 20th century.

Conclusion

The story of Corporal Douglas Murray Wilson offers a personal glimpse into the larger narrative of World War I. Through documenting and preserving these individual histories, we honour the service and sacrifice of those who participated in this pivotal historical event while creating meaningful connections between past and present generations.

Oral History Record: John Bell – Recollections of War in Exton

Name of Interviewee: John Bell
Address: 35 Cottesmore Lane, Exton
Date of Interview: 12 June 2025
Time: 11:45 AM
Location: Exton, Rutland
Interviewer/Notes Taken By: Philip Corsano
Project: War Voices – Village Memories of Conflict

Part I: Memories of the Second World War – Life Among the Allies

John Bell:
I remember very clearly when the Americans were stationed at Cottesmore and the Canadians were based in Luffenham. They were a big part of village life during the war.

In the war years one particular incident stays with me. There was an old steam-powered road roller that had got itself stuck in the creek at Exton—it had been trying to fill up with water and couldn't get back up the hill. The Americans brought in a six wheeler lorry and managed to pull it out backwards. We were only little boys and it was quite a performance, seeing the roller haul itself back up - with steam hissing and the engine roaring. They got it moving again and carried on paving the road. That was the sort of thing that made an impression on you as a boy.

Another time, I was at school, after the end of the war, when we heard this massive bang—an explosion, it sounded like. Everyone was startled. Later, the milkman who delivered to the school told us it was a sonic boom from a Canadian jet. None of us had ever heard of a sonic boom before. It was frightening, but also fascinating.

Part II: Echoes of the First World War – Uncle George and the Village Blacksmith

John Bell:
My memories of the First World War are clearly second-hand, from the men who came back—especially my Uncle George. He was gassed in Flanders and returned with badly damaged lungs. He never talked about the war, not even once. He lived at Brooke Farm, on the way to Cottesmore.

Although he was always short of breath, he held down a job for the rest of his life. The village was understanding—they let him finish work a little early each day so he had time to get home without overexerting himself. That was just how things were done—quiet respect.

I [John Bell] was good friends with Aimos Smith, our village blacksmith and also a WWI veteran. I knew Aimos well who was my neighbour. He and I used to do a sort of regimental march in the shoeing shed in the blacksmith's shop. He'd show us boys how to do proper bayonet action thrusts, insisting on twisting the blade: he took it seriously and wanted to pass it on.

Aimos was the last blacksmith in Exton. He moved to the forge [Vine Cottage] from Top Street lived for part of the week in the forge itself – and then back to his house with his wife who did not want to live in the forge as the ceiling were too low. The shoeing shed was at the front, and the forge at the back. He kept the trade alive as long as he could. At the top end of Blacksmith Lane there was a slaughterhouse and a butcher shop. The butcher was called Jess. Unfortunately the butcher shop closed when rationing came into effect, as all meat distribution was centralised by the government.

[END OF TRANSCRIPT]

Note: This oral history is based on the personal recollections of Mr. John Bell. Notes were taken by Philip Corsano on 12 June 2025 at 11:45 AM. The transcript has been lightly edited for clarity and narrative structure, while preserving the authenticity of the original testimony.

Transcript of Annie's WW1 and WW2 Recollections
Date: 18 June 2025, last review 21^st Aug 2025
Time: 14:40, 15:35 respectively
Location: Exton, 5 Stamford Road

World War I

Charles Wilson (Annie's Father)
Annie recounted her father Charles Wilson's oral history. He was just under 18 when he joined the army.

He served as a despatch rider from 1914 to 1916. From 1916 to the end of the war, he was transferred to the Royal Flying Corps, which in those days was still part of the army.

He was stationed at British HQ in Montreuil, not far from Boulogne. Since there were no telegraphic communications, instructions had to be physically delivered to the front lines by despatch riders on motorbikes. Charles rode an Enfield. He was a short man and an orphan, which may initially have contributed to him being excluded from trench warfare. The key skill required of a despatch rider at the time was navigation using road maps—getting lost could be fatal.

One vivid memory was of Charles meeting another despatch rider on a road—clearly a German. Both men recognized each other and the danger: they were under orders to kill enemy despatch riders and seize their messages. However, both turned around simultaneously and rode away, choosing not to engage. Charles later told Annie that he could not kill, even under orders—presumably the same was true for the German rider.

In 1916, during the Somme campaign, the enormity of allied British casualties meant that Charles's commanding officer was aware of the risks to a slight, orphaned youth like Charles. Perhaps it was for this reason that it was suggested he transferred to the Flying Corps. Charles excelled at map reading and was tasked with reconnoitring and documenting the front-line trenches. The Flying Corps used the road networks as a navigational aid. An onboard photographer captured images of the German trenches by hanging over the side of the aircraft with his camera. These images were used by HQ to plan offensives.

Units of the Flying Corps were stationed along the East and Southeast coast, being closer to the European continent. In the early days of the war, aircraft fuel tanks were of limited capacity. Hence the main RAF college at Cranwell, Lincolnshire is situated where it is today.

Charles trained at Scampton Airfield in Lincolnshire, whose runway was aligned at right angles to Lincoln Cathedral. For a dare, he once flew upside down across the nave of the cathedral. Though he was severely reprimanded, he was not suspended—pilots were in high demand.

In Lincolnshire, local aristocracy were keen to host the young airmen, and according to Annie, this is where her father acquired his fondness for fine dining.

Later, he was stationed near Lympne in Kent. For recreation, the airmen would line up on the cliffs of Dover and race across the Channel. Charles once held the record for 36 hours. He crashed in France four times, sustaining only a broken nose.

When flying over enemy lines, planes were vulnerable to gunfire. A common enemy tactic was to aim at fuel tanks to bring aircraft down. Charles was stationed in Albert, behind Bapaume.

Post-War

After the war, Charles studied Chemistry at university. In his second year, he designed a self-sealing chemical alloy for aircraft fuel tanks, so that they would self-seal if pieced by a bullet. Unable to afford a patent agent, he drafted a patent specification at the suggestion of the patent agent he consulted. The invention proved completely novel. Impressed, a Birmingham patent agency offered him a traineeship.

Annie's Father-in-Law – Mr. William Lea (WWI)

Although a Mancunian, William was conscripted as an officer into the Dorsetshire Regiment due to his exceptional footballing talent. On one occasion his team was inspected by the future King Edward VIII before one of their matches. William's comment was that he looked as though he had a serious hang-over.

He was sent to the front on horseback, despite lacking riding skills. Trench duty involved a three-week rotation at the front line. He described the trenches as squalid—muddy, rat-infested, open to the elements, and prone to collapse. Shaving daily, he humorously recalled a rat coming to watch him by the mirror as he shaved each morning.

He described trench conditions as appalling: poor engineering, collapsing dugouts, widespread incidence of trench foot, and a complete lack of proper sanitation. Yet, despite these horrors, there were no mutinies. He felt the Top Brass had little thought for the lowly conscript.

"Duty, stern daughter of the voice of God" [Wordsworth] was still the prevailing ethic and accepted by almost all. Cowards automatically faced the firing squad. Some soldiers shot themselves in the foot so that they were unfit for active service and would be repatriated.

He also recalled driving one of the early tanks across no man's land and being ordered to go straight—crushing wounded men in his path. He described this as a profoundly dehumanising experience wholly jeopardising human dignity.

World War II

Annie's Husband – Nigel
Nigel was called up in 1942 as a young man and sent for basic training with the Royal Engineers at Queen's University, Belfast. The Royal Engineers were colloquially known as the Sappers. Sappers typically were at the forefront of any advance. They rode in lorries sitting on the deck. Roads were seriously potholed or impassable.

He joined active service just as the British forces were resisting the German Ardennes offensive (starting 16 December 1944). The British Army was attempting to repulse the last determined stand from the German Army, to defend the frontiers of their Fatherland, or Reich. The Sappers were at the forefront of this engagement and had occupied a deserted Dutch village. Most houses had been flattened by the conflict: those remaining standing had their windows blown out, no services, with craters where there had once been roads. They did, however find a dwelling with a tap still supplying cold water to a bath. Nigel was delighted. He had not washed in 3 weeks. Never mind there was no window glass, and the temperature was below freezing. He proceeded to enjoy a cold bath and then had to dress again in his dirty clothes. He was surprised that no-one else in the Company availed themselves of this opportunity.

He did not volunteer for the Arnhem Bridgehead, because he was aware of his parents' unhappy marriage. One of his friends did volunteer with the British 1st Airborne Division. The object at Arnhem was to secure a bridge across the Nederrijn (Lower Rhine). Fierce urban combat ensued, with huge British casualties.

His friend pessimistic of the odds of survival, had entrusted Nigel with letters for his fiancée, should he not survive. Unfortunately, he did not survive. Nigel awkwardly delivered the letters, too shy to speak to the young woman.

The Ardennes to the Rhine

Nigel's company built the first British Bailey bridge across the Rhine at Rees. These floating wooden panels were rickety and chained together; if one chain failed, the structure could collapse. Securing the chains was dangerous work under enemy fire. At one point, Nigel had to hold a panel aloft to avoid crushing others while his colleagues took cover from a Luftwaffe strafing run.

The entire British Army advanced to Hanover. At night, they parked their military trucks in a circle and slept inside the perimeter. Sentries were posted for eight hours and faced constant danger from ambushes by remnants of the German army. Nigel recalled never being more afraid — German troops and fanatical patriots would silently emerge from the woods to garrotte sentries during the night.

Post war, Nigel was commissioned and joined the British garrison in Gibraltar. He was demobilised in 1947. When demobbed, the troops were all issued with a suit, clothes and underclothes, shoes and a shirt and tie, for civvy street. He was later married in his demobbed suit to his mother in law's disgust.

Post-War Visit to Normandy

After WW2, Charles took Annie to visit the sites of the Juno and Sword D-Day beaches in Normandy. The German pill boxes were still there in the sand dunes. It was obvious that the Allied forces will have faced ferocious crossfire as they attempted to wade ashore with their equipment above their heads. They had to cross the exposed beach to gain some shelter in the dunes. And re-form into their fighting units.

When visiting Cherbourg and Le Havre ports, where the Germans had blocked the approach and navigation channels by sinking vessels to make the ports useless, Annie remarked that some of the hulks were still there in 1949. The key port of Caen was the scene of much fighting and was still in rubble 5 years later.

Memories of Belsen

Many years after the liberation of Belsen, Annie recalls that a friend, Major Eddie Jordan, who she knew as a debonair party animal, unexpectedly broke down and wept on seeing film of the concentration camp survivors in all their starving disease-ridden misery. He had been one of the British army detachment who were first on the terrible scenes of the camps. Another serving officer who never forgot the same appalling experience was Sue Ryder. She was so deeply moved that she gave her substantial family home at Cavendish in Suffolk to house those survivors who were too ill ever to work. Thereafter she devoted her life to fund-raising for their support. The need was so great, that the foundation eventually bought two further properties, one of which is Thorpe Hall near Peterborough. As the survivors died, the foundation's present role became that of housing the permanently ill, which it continues to do to this day.

The Sue Ryder Foundation had a helper who was a FANY, [First Aid Nursing Yeomanry] - a women's voluntary unit linked to the British Army. The FANY's supplied female drivers to the top brass. They appeared to be hand-picked for their good looks. This particular Sue Ryder driver was a spitting image of Ingrid Bergman. Eisenhower himself had had an affair with his FANY driver. She published a memoir at the end of her life in which she detailed her affair. This was after the deaths of both Eisenhower and his wife, when the FANY was in dire need of funds and living in poverty.

Hungarian Friend – Lazlo

Annie also recalled her Hungarian friend Lazlo, from an aristocratic Transylvanian family. His father had run the radio station in Budapest. They lived in a very substantial multi-generational building on one of the main thorough fares in Budapest. When Russian troops arrived, they looted the house and tore up the family's fine Persian carpets to insulate their tanks. Lazlo and his brother escaped to the West, where they subsequently followed distinguished medical careers. Lazlo was a trustee of a major cancer research charity. It was the late 1960s before their mother was allowed to leave Budapest and join her sons in the west. His brother had a similarly distinguished medical career in the United States.

Annie's Memories of the Evacuees from Ilford.

Annie recalls that the evacuees who arrived in the West Midlands from Ilford, were far more street wise than her country folk. They seemed so sophisticated to Annie compared with her local friends. Evacuees also arrived in Exton where they were initially left standing in the Village Hall with name labels and a carrier bag with their belongings. They were then offered homes by Exton residents, including Anne Bell's parents, Jonnie and Florrie Castle.

Other child memories.

After the declaration of the war, to Annie as a 7 year-old, it appeared that nothing happened until the battle of the River Plate in South America, when three British cruisers took on the much more heavily armed and prestigious German battleship the Admiral Graf Spee. One of the seamen who served on the HMS Ajax, came to our school when on leave, and told us all about it. It made the war much more real to a child. Annie also recalls the revival and singing of various patriotic WW1 songs, some with modernised words including "we will hang out the washing on the Seigfried Line. Have any dirty washing mother dear?" As well as the WW1 favourite, "Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag, and smile, smile, smile."

There was a great fear of Luftwaffe bombing raids. So many built shelters in their gardens. There were two models - one called the Anderson and the other the Morrison [named after ministers of the coalition government]. These were dug into the earth and covered with a corrugated iron arch roof, which was then covered in sods of earth. They were extremely damp. If you did not have a shelter, you were advised to take refuge under the house stairs, or at worst under the kitchen table.

Annie observed that, despite schoolgirls often travelling on packed civilian trains with troops, social boundaries were respected. She was never aware of any inappropriate behaviour. She noted that American soldiers were more popular with local girls—accustomed to interacting with women and wearing better form fitting uniforms, (especially in the trousers) than the English baggy-trouser uniforms.

Adrian Philip Davis (1893–1981): From Liverpool to the Western Front and Home Again
Compiled by his grandson, Philip A. Corsano on 24^th August 2025

Adrian Philip Davis was born in Liverpool on 2 June 1893, the son of Captain Adrien John William Percy Moriato Davis, a Swiss-born merchant seaman, and Francis Rogers of Liverpool. At 21, with war breaking out across Europe, Adrian volunteered in 1914 and joined the Queen's Royal West Surrey Regiment, later transferring to the Royal Scots Lothian Regiment. He rose to the rank of Non-Commissioned Officer.

His war was long and brutal—marked by chlorine gas, trench humour, personal loss, and one particularly memorable cricket match played with rats.

Baptism of Fire: The Second Battle of Ypres (1915)

Adrian's first taste of combat came at Ypres during the first German use of poison gas. In trenches near Hill 60, he fought to hold the line amid choking green clouds and relentless bombardment.

It was in these same trenches that he met a fellow soldier—the older brother of a young woman named Kathleen Owen, whom he would later marry. Tragedy would follow: Kathleen's younger brother, Gordon, was later killed by gas at Passchendaele, and is buried there.

A Word in the Mist: The German Who Said "Kinder"

During a patrol in no man's land, Adrian encountered a lone German soldier surrendering. The man raised his hands and uttered a single word: "Kinder." Children. Adrian took him by the arm and guided him back to British lines, where he was safely interned.

He received a medal—perhaps for this act—but rarely mentioned it. "He was colder than I was," was all he would say.

The Somme (1916): Bullets and Barbed Wire

At the Somme, Adrian endured one of the deadliest battles in history. On the first day alone, 60,000 British casualties. Amid the chaos, a bullet grazed his skull just above the right ear, leaving a clean groove he carried for life. As a child, I remember pressing my finger into it in awe. "Keeps the hat straight," he'd joke.

Trench Sport: The Great Rat Cricket Match

In long, lice-filled lulls between bombardments, the men amused themselves. One of Adrian's favourites was what he called "rat cricket." Rats, fat on rations and the dead, scurried endlessly through the trenches. So, the men turned pest control into sport.

With shovels, tent poles, and even a cricket bat salvaged from a wrecked billet, they herded rats toward "batsmen," scoring points for clean hits. "Six if it cleared the duckboard," Adrian claimed. "Four if it landed in someone's tea."

Passchendaele (1917): Mud and Memory

Passchendaele was pure horror: rain, shellfire, gas—and endless mud. Adrian fought through Polygon Wood and the Menin Road, all while dealing with worsening symptoms from his earlier head wound. It likely saved his life: he was eventually sent home.

But it was here that Gordon Owen, his future brother-in-law, was gassed and killed. Adrian never forgot it.

A Meal in a Ghost House

During a countryside patrol, Adrian's unit came upon an abandoned French farmhouse. The table was laid for lunch—wine, soup, bread—untouched. They called out. No one answered.

They sat and ate silently. It was their first real meal in months. Before leaving, they tidied the table, left a note of thanks and a few coins, and returned to the war.

After the Armistice

After 1918, Adrian returned to London. He worked as an educational publisher and later retired to St. Mawes, Cornwall. But war never left him. Every 11 November at 11 a.m., he would sit in silence with a cold cup of tea. He never joined the parades. His medal stayed in a drawer.

World War II: Major Davis of the Home Guard

Too old to serve in the regular army in 1939, Adrian returned to duty in the Second World War as a Major in the Home Guard, stationed on the South Coast—part of Britain's "last line of defence" in case of German invasion.

His wartime experience made him invaluable to the men under his command. He drilled them with discipline but kept spirits high with dry humour. "Fix bayonets," he once said, "and mind your tea."

Adrian Philip was so concerned with the German threat in 1941 that he evacuated both his children across the Atlantic to Boston to stay with an American family, almost like a refugee, which she hated. This in the face of the terrible threat of the 'U-Boat' sea wolf torpedoing of the English merchant navy. My mother spoke to me of her survival of the North Atlantic gauntlet on very few occasions. She did mention that she enjoyed her camp stays in Vermont in the summer with other children. She always felt it was a miracle she survived in convoys in which so many merchant vessels were sunk and lost at sea with all hands. It took a huge effort on behalf of the British and American governments to keep the convoys running through these years. In April 1941, 616,000 tons were lost.

In later life, Adrian and I would sit together watching Dad's Army, the BBC comedy about the Home Guard. He laughed with genuine delight—recognising old comrades in the bumbling but brave characters. "That one with the moustache," he'd say, pointing at Captain Mainwaring, "we had three of him—and not one could read a map."

The Home Guard was also active in the Midlands. Their dugouts and gun emplacements fashioned from straw bales were great for the children to play in. They would have deterred an enemy for 30 seconds.

Legacy

Adrian Philip Davis died in 1981, aged 88. He left no memoirs. But in small stories passed down—of bullet scars, cricket with rats, a farmhouse lunch, a German soldier's single word, and laughter during Dad's Army—he left something better: a legacy of quiet courage, resilience, and humanity.

He was the kind of man who led by example, remembered with affection, and never once called himself a hero.