Walter Allward, Stratford, Ontario

1 THREE SOLDIERS AND THE ETHOS OF SERVICE The First World War and what we left behind Copyright © 2016 John Burge Cover design © 2014 Sarah Graves Cover photo: The two figures at the cenotaph designed by Walter Allward, Stratford, Ontario. (Photo by the author.) All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form – except in the case of brief quotations, with full attribution – without written permission from its publisher. ISBN-978-0-9939206-0-8 She reached the farther shore and paused on her stick beside the Artillery Memorial’s bronze figures: private soldiers deep in thought, heads gravely bowed, a fourth lying dead, his tin hat on his chest. Survivors of 1914-18. Eleanor knew them well. She had over the years, when you still drove into London by car, stopped beside them stuck in traffic for ten minutes at a time. She was a pacifist and had regularly marched to Aldermaston but these four had always humbled her, exalted her: obedient, silent, unassailable heroes. ~Jane Gardam, from her short story “Hair of the Dog” Acknowledgments I’d like to thank Linda Thomson, first reader as always, for her suggestions, soli- darity, and labour in the writing of this book, and for saving me from countless editorial missteps. I’d also like to thank James Middleton for reading parts of the manuscript and advising me on issues related to world history. Thanks, too, to Michael Bossin for keeping up the good work, and to Gary Ockenden for some really good quotes. All errors and omissions are mine. I trust readers will bring them to my attention. Sarah Graves produced this e-book in InDesign and built the website that gives it and related materials a home. Her skill, experience, and professionalism were invaluable. I am deeply indebted to Karen Molson, author of The Molsons: Their Lives & Times, for her kindness in showing me family letters from the First World War, and for her generous permission to quote from them. I am also extremely grateful for her critical reading of the chapter on Percy, her sharing of family photographs, and her support throughout. This book is dedicated to my parents, Thomas Whitfield Burge (1912-1987) and Margaret Eleanor Stewart Burge (1916-1997), no strangers to service and duty. JB, April 2015 Note: this March 2016 revision includes additional material. Table of Contents Introduction 1. Chapter One: Percy Molson, that selfsame excellence 2. Chapter Two: Talbot Papineau, the future all before him 3. Chapter Three:Walter Allward and Vimy, a service in stone 4. Chapter Four: Service, duty, and social cohesion, 1914-18 5. Chapter Five: Service and duty in an age unbound Conclusion: Lost and found Notes: Sources and supplementary text _______________ Introduction recent New Yorker cartoon shows two men in suits seated across a desk. The Amore senior – the one with glasses, holding a file – is a prospective employer, but it’s the other man who seems relaxed and self-assured, with an easy smile and crossed legs. He’s not surprised when the employer says: “I’m fascinated by your résumé, particularly the advertising supplement.”1 Self-advertisement is key to the way we live now. Immodesty is encouraged, espe- cially in the marketplace and social media, and we are pressed to be our own top sales rep. In 1959, Norman Mailer published Advertisements for Myself, a collection of his shorter pieces. At the time, the title was startling. Fifty years ago, self- advertisement was revolutionary, but Mailer was a man of his times, even a little ahead of them.2 In Britain, “I’m Alright Jack,” a comedy, was released the same year. Starring Ian Carmichael as the guileless and terribly decent young Englishman bewildered by the selfishness he finds everywhere and at all levels, “I’m Alright Jack” depicted an emerging culture of self-interest. The year before, a very different film was released: “Ice-Cold in Alex,” the story of three men and a woman who survive the North African desert in the Second World War by pulling together and relying on each other. “I’m Alright Jack” reflected a contemporary way of looking at things, “Ice-Cold in Alex” an older, more traditional one. The late 1950s was pivotal that way. Fifteen years earlier, in the real desert war of 1940-43, Keith Douglas, a young British officer, reflected on his public school officer-contemporaries in “Aristocrats”: Peter was unfortunately killed by an 88; it took his leg away, he died in the ambulance. I saw him crawling on the sand, he said It’s most unfair, they’ve shot my foot off. 1 How can I live among this gentle obsolescent breed of heroes, and not weep? Unicorns, almost, for they are fading into two legends in which their stupidity and chivalry are celebrated.3 These men, Douglas wrote, with their “famous unconcern,” were both fool and hero. The First World War, stripping the modern world of its nineteenth century ideals, values, and faith, left these brave, uncynical men the object of social ambiv- alence. The selfless, modest, and sangfroid heroes of France and Belgium had had their day. With the breakdown of social norms after 1918, something brasher, more restless, and more individualistic came into play. We won’t be fooled again, the next generation said, and the century rolled on. Percival Molson and Talbot Papineau were among the millions who didn’t survive the war. Born to privileged families in Quebec, their pre-1914 lives had intersected repeatedly, and early in the war both joined the Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry (PPCLI). They served with distinction on the Western Front, and both commanded rifle companies at the time of their deaths in July and October 1917. Percy was my great-grandfather’s first cousin. Walter Allward, sculptor and architect of the Vimy Monument, is also part of this story. Several years older than Percy and Talbot and, unlike them, a man with a young family, he didn’t join up. Instead, he spent the rest of his life serving through art those who had served in the flesh. His example, as much as Percy and Talbot’s, is one of service and duty. These men grew up decades before we crossed what the American writer David Brooks calls the narcissism line.4 Though very different from each other, Percy, Talbot, and Walter shared social values and ideals we view as obsolete, quaint, charming in an old-fashioned way, and brave but unwise. They didn’t view gallantry ironically, and for them a man or woman’s success and reputation were measured, 2 to a striking extent, by the principles he or she stuck by. In the end, they believed that character, not personality, was paramount. In January 1917, Herbert Molson, Percy’s oldest brother and an officer with the 42nd Battalion (Royal Highlanders of Canada), wrote to his young son: My dear old Tom, . I’m pleased at your report and glad to see you doing so well in your classes, but don’t neglect athletics & the other accomplishments that go to make a real man and gentleman. Remember what I have often told you: try to be proficient in all manly sports, and accomplishments such as dancing, music, etc. are most useful & neces- sary in after life if you wish to take your proper place in the world & command the respect of men & women who count. Above all things, though, it is character that counts, & the more one sees of life the more one realizes this. Do not stand bullying, & remember that manners count for much in the world. The Western world cracked during the First World War and was never the same. Ninety years later, it cracked again: the first decade of this century birthed a new age, one based on digitalization, globalization, and sovereign corporate capitalism. Profit, personality, and promotion are the game, and public life is largely about winning and losing. Like Keith Douglas’s gentle, obsolescent breed of heroes, earlier values, ideals, and social norms seem passé. Like all things passé, however, 5 they show us where we came from and what we left behind. 3 Chapter One Percy Molson, that selfsame excellence Percy Molson. (McCord Museum, accession number II-226375.0.)1 n 1944, a former McGill University hockey player looked back on a game played Iforty years earlier. Recalling a match with Queen’s University when he’d been McGill’s goalie, Frederick Tees wrote: One amusing but characteristic incident occurred in the game played between Queen’s and McGill, where George Richardson and Percy Molson . were the respective captains. The referee proceeded to put Molson off for a heavy body check on Richardson, but the latter, picking himself up and seeing what was happening, 4 protested that the check was a fair one. The referee agreed and cancelled the penalty. Subsequently Molson was given credit for a goal, but he pointed out to the referee that the puck had gone in off his arm and the goal was disallowed.2 Percy and George later served in the Canadian infantry in the First World War. Both were regarded as exemplary men of principle, and both were killed in action, again as captains.3 Percy was born in the resort community of Cacouna, Quebec, on August 14, 1880.4 The son of John Thomas and Jennie Baker Butler Molson, he was the great- great grandson of John Molson, founder of the Molson brewing and business empire. The fifth of seven children, he was part of the Anglo-Protestant Montreal elite, and the inheritor of position, privilege, and wealth.5 He was educated at Montreal High School, where he played a range of sports.

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