Vivian Jackson 195593

93rd Canadian Infantry Battalion/ 5th Canadian Mounted Rifles

Vivian Raven Jackson was born in Sheffield, England on May 29^th 1891 to parents Frederick and Agnes Jackson.  He and his family immigrated to Canada in 1904.  On the 1911 census Vivian was shown living and working on the farm of Arthur Edwards on Lot 15, Concession 1 of Dummer Township. 

He enlisted with the 93^rd Peterborough Battalion in that city on January 25^th 1916.  He was nearly 29 years of age, single and a farmer.  He stood five foot five inches tall and sported a dark complexion, brown eyes and dark brown hair.  He listed his religion as Presbyterian and declared that he had seen one year’s previous service with the 3^rd Dragoons in Peterborough.

Jackson trained in the city of Peterborough with the 93^rd until they were moved to Barriefield Camp in Kingston in late May of 1916.  After a short stay there, he embarked Halifax aboard the S.S. Empress of Britain and arrived safely in England after ten days at sea.  He accompanied the 93^rd to Otterpool Camp where his battalion was broken up and its ranks sent as reinforcement drafts to other units already engaged in fighting at the front.  Jackson was one of a handful of 93^rd boys to be sent to the 5^th Canadian Mounted Rifles (5^th C.M.R.), an infantry unit that had already seen much action at the front.  He joined the C.M.R.s at the front on October 2^nd 1916 and was immediately engaged in the Battle of the Somme and the attack on Regina Trench.  The shattered battalion was pulled out of battle a couple of weeks later and sent to the Vimy Ridge sector to begin planning the famous attack on the ridge

Selkirk participated in the famous attack of Vimy Ridge as part of the 5^th Mounted Rifles Machine Gun section.  Among his crew were three other Warsaw boys who had been part of the same draft of 93^rd Battalion men as Jackson: Charles Morrison, and brothers Verne and Clayton Selkirk.  Vivian describes, in a letter written from an English hospital, his experiences during the first day of battle at Vimy Ridge:

My Dearest Mother- I don’t’ know whether you got the news about me being wounded, or not. Fritz got one on me this time. He is very generous with his shrapnel and likes everyone to get a piece.

I got two wounds, one in the left arm and another in the right thigh. The latter has been painful and I think there is still shrapnel in the flesh. Well, dear mother, we had some time at Vimy Ridge. I suppose you read about it in the paper. Gee, it was some day to spend a bank holiday. It rained and snowed to beat the band and you could hardly hear yourself speak for the rattle of the machine guns and our artillery. When we got to the top of Vimy we started to dig ourselves in.  Clate [Clayton Selkirk], Morrison [Charles Morrison] and myself beat it for a shell hole a little piece in front. We were mighty near frozen, having been on the move all night. Well, we stayed in the shell hole for a while, and along came our Sergeant, who said: ‘well, boys, how would a wee drop go?’ We said ‘fine’; so he gave us a shot of rum out of his water bottle. It put new life into us. Well, after a short while we moved further over the ridge and came to our final objective—one of Fritz’s trenches. There we started to dig funk holes in the side for a little cover from shrapnel. We had not been in the trench for five minutes when he started to put over some of his blooming stuff. Say, there were casualties in no time. He could drop his shells right in the middle of the trench

Well, dear mother, it was the third shell he put over that got me. I was working away at my funk hole when bang went the shell. Gee, I was dazed for a minute or so. I did not know what was wrong. I stood up and began to feel something warm run down my arm and leg. I found my coat sleeve was torn in three places. Morrison was not three feet from me, but he escaped. As for Clate, I don’t know where he went to. I inquired from Morrison if he had seen him. Well, I did not stay there very long. I beat it for the stretcher bearers.  They were in a dug-out just along the trench. I got my wounds bandaged up.

Vivian then goes on to describe the long and perilous journey that he made to reach the comfort of the English hospital:

The next thing was, how would I get out to the dressing station without getting another Blighty or even something worse.  I waited in the dugout till the shelling had quieted down a bit. It was then about 3:30 in the afternoon, so out of the dug-out I came. I climbed out of the trench and struck across the open country towards our lines. I could see the German shells bursting ahead of me. I dropped in shell holes occasionally for a rest. I was feeling pretty well played out. Mind you I had nothing to eat since early that morning. We carried bully beef and hard tack, but I left them in my haversack in the trench. Well I got to our lines all right, and was directed to the dressing station further down the line.

On my way down I got a cup full of coffee from the Y.M.C.A dug-out. It went fine. There must have been one hundred stretcher cases waiting to be taken out, and twice as many walking cases. I was put in the ambulance there and was taken to No.9 Canadian Field Dressing Station. There I was inoculated in the breast to prevent disease. I had all the cocoa and biscuits I could get down me. This must have been about 7 o’clock. Well, I was moved from there to a town called Hersin Coupigny. There I passed through No.13 Canadian Station. We stopped there all night. The next afternoon we took a train and landed at Boulogne. The next morning I was taken to the No.2 Can. Stationary Hospital. This is the place where I struck a fine feather bed. They were good to us there.

We got lots to eat and the best of grub.  Well, I only remained there two days when I got my papers for Blighty (England). I came across the channel in the Hospital ship St. Andrew’s. Arrived in Dover on Friday night. We were put right on the Red Cross train and landed in Birkenhead Saturday morning.

When you are writing back to me if any of the Warsaw boys got it, I am anxious to see the casualty list. I got a letter from Bill [probably Warsaw boy: William Aitken] the night we went up the line. He was saying he hoped I came through the big drive all right. I have lost my kit, razor, socks, and everything. Some mother’s son will get them, so they will not be wasted.”

Vivian remained in the hospital in Liverpool for twenty-one days before transferred to the Canadian Convalescent Hospital at Epsom on May 5^th.  He recovered fully and was discharged to the Quebec Regimental Depot on June 14, 1917, staying there until November 1^st when he was reposted to the 5^th Canadian Mounted Rifles.  He joined them in the field ten days later in the Ypres sector.  Jackson would have barely recognized his old unit; they had just come out of the grueling Battle of Passchendaele where they lost many of their ranks.

A photo of members of the 5th C.M.R. aboard a British tank, taken August
 1918.  A descendant of  Jackson's claims that the soldier marked in the photo
is none other than Vivian Jackson.    

Jackson fought with the Mounted Rifles until the end of the war fighting in bloody engagements such as Amiens and the series of battles known as the Last Hundred Days.  Near the end of the war Jackson was awarded a two-week leave to the U.K. on October 21^st to November 9^th 1918.  Two days upon his return the war ended.  Vivian Jackson remained in France with his unit for close to three months after the war, during which time he was promoted to Lance Corporal.  He returned to England on February 18^th 1919 to await demobilization.  During his stay in England he was deprived of his stripes and busted back down to the rank of private and forfeited one day’s pay for overstaying a leave.  He sailed for Canada on April 8^th and was formally discharged from Military service upon reaching Montreal two weeks later.

Vivian returned to live in the village of Warsaw, staying with the family of friend Bill Aitken* and was even listed as an adopted son of the Aitkens’.   He later married Doris Coates of Dummer in 1927.  Vivian Jackson died in 1956 and is buried in St. Mark’s Cemetery in Warsaw, Ontario.

*See William Aitken's Bio for a photo of him and Vivian Jackson