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'DN GAZETTE, JULY, 1969 r aim was iâ€" PAC-E FiFTEEN _.,l914-I9l8 Fight For Freedom Has Memories , 0f Doxsees Corners Boys For Mrs.'Eniily Moore Today memory takes me back to some. of the lads of 50 years ago, of Doxsee‘s Corners, like many other Prince Edward Coun ty boys, answered the call in the fight for Freedom 1914-1918. Walter Scott lived with his grandparents, Mr. and ‘Mrs. Alex Scott and uncle, tMrl Clayton Scott and attended school in the little red school house. He sat in the seat behind me, back in the days of 190879. He was the lad of which I wrote these lines in the Center nial poem 1967. (The day when I let out a yell, when rising quickly to my feet, to find the boy behind me, hand tied my pigtails to the seat). We were all so happy and care- free. There were some ’10 pupils in that one room school. some taking grade 13 work. Walter paid the su- preme sacrifice. , ' Then there was Harry Alexan- der. he made his home with Mr. and Mrs. George Munro and two daughters Essie.and Ethel. One Saturday evening in- 1912. I had been sent toiBethel cheese factory with the milk. Cheese then was made on Saturday night. The cows having wandered in the swamp. milking was late. When I arrived at the factory two wag~ ons were ahead of me. The d‘riV‘ ers of the wagons were kind enough to unload the milk for me before their own, so I would not have to wait. Thanking them, I drove to the pump to get the quota of whey for the pigs. ’l‘his pump was on a stand a to 10 feet high with a large ‘hose attached. Climbing up the steps I started to fill the cans. when two lads came running from somewhere. Harry who was always ready for mischief. started to say, ‘Get F“ v 'thorl Whoa'. to my . lhol'sE. Flown" got so contused I was afraid she would run away. I was on top of that stand begging him to leave her alone, he just stood below laughing at me. "He was Wflag‘lng a pair of loose hag y ov- Ble. in desperation Z tinned that been on him. He let out an awful yell. then ran on still e1- : her running from the {at “m at his ham less. That whey was ML! 1 \thm I had ‘ . . . * an an ewinl thin to do! But the ahaammoniumt (3015 me W to worry, it he not, hot 9"“th whim him. situate“ to say. he 95‘ humor wound [more moon in so that. rfifi~lamfflmiealoe talk. ‘n- It”? in Lla- Minolta“ Jeni.“ .gs hair which was'bilwlh 8 he how shall mg. (m Sunday morn i late s - mer 1914. as l was weighing to $2- dny School smoke from u Ihad tor» , est fire in a nearby county, smart- ed the eyes and throat. and was so think one could see 'but a few yards. . I heard the sound of horse walkâ€" . ing leisurely behind me. Thinking it was n neighbour him coming to Sunday School, I paid no atten» lion. Then on reaching the church steps, a voice says: "Wait a min ute, please Miss. I turned to see a young man in khaki, seated in a rubber tired buggy, driving a hay horse. Driving up beside the steps he asked me if I would go for a drive with him. Oh, no. I said. my moth- er and the rest of the family are inside waiting for me. (Being too many to ride in the surrey I had decided to walk). 1 then invited him to come inside to Sunday School with me. Looking at' me with what I thought, a sad and scared expres sion on his face he replied. “Thanks young lady that was a nice try. But I don't'think there will be a Sunday School where _I'll be in a few weeks. With that. he turned his horse around, and drove back the way he had come. I did not ask his name, or did I see his face again. But I prayed for that young man every day all through the war. . Then there was Tom Clayton who worked for Jesse Cole and his son Albi'o. We waved him good- bye and vii safe return from the church steps, as he left for Bel- levil‘le one Sunday morning. Sidney Perkins and Wm. H. Bowerman joined with the 155th Battalion. I sent them parcels fre quently. once I enclosed a testa~ merit in a parcel. On his return one ofthe‘se boys showed me his testament, which he said. he car ried in an inside pocket 0P his tunic. A bullet had passed through it, stopping at the back cover. It had saved his life. The lads of Word War II from Doxsee neigh- hou hood were James York, Char- les Smith, Alvin Zachariah, Percy Bannister and my tbrot‘her-‘in-law Wm. J. Orsborne, in the Army. Wm. Qrshorne also served in the 1914-1918 was behore coming to Canada from England in 1920. Clare C. Scott, R.C.A.F., son of Mr. and Mrs, Clayton Scott. now of 64 Queen St.. Pic-ton. Last but not least. Miss Mary Reed, RN. daugmer of the late Mr. and Mrs. George P. Reed, and Miss Clara 3411“"- R.N., dau , tar (little late Mr. and um. Phi 1p Roblm- . ‘ in was alter the visit of King {19% V} and lean Elizabeth mg; a poem my home and wheel days in England. the last' nurse cl Which rind: ‘ .. PM my Cnnuflidh home has grown dear to me, _, , 'Oi’t. than loved “Pals" I long to see. But, dear Dot and Jen for me now Whit. Together beside Heaven‘s pear- Iy gate: While red poppies. a silent story tell. With a little white cross of wood: i For Dick and Will dear school day "Falls", Or that home in Ashurst Wood. 0n hearing my best friend‘s sonQ had arrived safely in England in [940 and that some of our Can- adian boys were billeted in the old school I attended, I was prompted to add these lines. as if he were my own son. The Gazette printed two poems for me in booklet form which I later sent to my old school teacher. A quarter of a century has past, As I sit knitting, I breathe a pray- er, God send my “Laddle” back safe to me, When this strife is ended “over there". Ladd-ie's gone to take up the torch. That Dick and Will laid down. For the cause of freedom, peace and right, For peoples the whole world round. I'm knitting new, again ’tis eve, My eyes are wet with tears. I've just read a letter from my boy on leave; To “Mom", from “Somewhere 0v: er there." ., It says, I have seen your childhood home And under the yew hy the‘gate have stood. The Walls are covered with roses still, ' of your home in Ashurst Wood. It's made me a little homesick. ‘Mom." For a glimpse of Dad and you. I'd like to see the “dear old home." when the orchard is in bloom. Please God, to you I‘ll soon return, When the flag of freedom is un- furled; I'll see again. and he again in the home for which I yearn, When wars cease, and everlas-tr ins peace. 15 won for all the world. These other poems were printed on .3 page of The Quinta Loyalist, Saturday. November 10 for Be- membrance Day 1934. i Thereis a poem, “Red Poppies in the Corn'flhy W. Campbell Gal~ brnith. . “I've seen them in the mammal light, l When whine mists drifted by; ' i've seen them in the dusk o! 1 night, Glow 'gainst the starry sky. The slender waving blossoms red. 'Mid yellow fields forlorn: A glory on the scene they sheath, net] Poppies in the corn. (wheat) ”Bright blossoms lair by nature set along the dusty ways. You cheered up in the battles fret. Throne?! 10nd and weary rim: you gave us hope, if (at it); kind, We‘ll see that longed . v moi-n. wheat chemo again, we more): and I] Had Poppies in the com." I an... _,