Dunnett, Harry Douglas: Lieutenant

Digitized Service Record

Source: Lead a patrol into “No Man’s Land” night of December 1/2, 1916.

Find-A-Grave

Family Search: When Harry Douglas Dunnett was born on 30 March 1891, in Simcoe, Ontario, Canada, his father, John Dunnett, was 41 and his mother, Jane Elizabeth Julia Hughes, was 38. He married Myrtle James on 24 December 1918, in Aylmer, Elgin, Ontario, Canada. He lived in Aylmer, Elgin, Ontario, Canada in 1914 and London, Ontario, Canada for about 37 years. He registered for military service in 1914. In 1914, at the age of 23, his occupation is listed as clerk. He died on 25 June 1959, in London, Ontario, Canada West, British Colonial America, at the age of 68, and was buried in Mount Pleasant Cemetery, West McGillivray, North Middlesex, Middlesex, Ontario, Canada.

Report on Minor raid, Night of Dec. 1/2.

18th Canadian Battalion

Our patrol advanced within short distance of enemy wire but no party were there, so we lay in wait for several hours hoping it would appear.

Information

In the shell holes were signs of occupation by enemy covering parties as foot prints and cylindrical sticks were found. enemy was very nervous and put up many flares and fired twice on our patrol.

Seeing that the enemy would not come out and the wire was too thick to enter is trench our patrol came in.

Signed.

H.D. Dunnett. Lieut.

O.C. Special Service Platoon,

18th. Canadian Battalion

From We Will Remember Them – Surnames D – L, Elgin County Branch, Ontario Genealogical Society

008166/1918 (Elgin Co) Harry Douglas DUNNETT, 27, soldier, Simcoe Ont, Aylmer, s/o John DUNNETT & Elizabeth J HUGHES, married Myrtle JAMES, 34, housekeeper, St. Thomas, same, d/o William JAMES & Mary SMALL, witn: Mary JAMES & Dorothy WATTS both of St. Thomas, 26 Dec 1918 at St. Thomas.

Sometimes a More Dangerous Job out of the Trenches

The Scout Corporal from Aylmer Writes His Mother, Mrs. John Dunnett

The letter from somewhere in Belgium tells between the lines of the dangers and duties of the Scout Corporal. From the billets to the trenches when the night is as black as Egypt – running his men into the shadows when the light rockets blaze from the enemy’s lines – plunk into a hole of mud, out again, not a word must be spoken – hardly a whisper no noise – or the alternative, a rain of bullets from the overhead bursting shrapnel, and a scout master is responsible. Cool men, men of resource, of keen observation, picked men from a picked corps  – such are the non-coms of the scout service. The letter reads:

Belgium, 1 – 9 – 15

Dearest Mother – We are still in the land of the living and so far have met with no mishap whatever. I have been in the trenches for a night, but my duties do not call me to live right in them all the time, though I often go in and hence keep in touch with my friends there. The trenches are really the safest place I believe. You see, there one is covered, but we are about in the open, subject to stray bullets all the time as well as bursting of large shells, but it is all in a lifetime. As regards our own battalion, you will get all that from the papers – that is official news regarding casualties, if any. There is really no news much to tell about. We are going along in the same old way, all looking forward to the time when peace shall be restored again in the world. I received your letter of Sept. 15th last. This war game is no fun, you can imagine, and the first day was quite sufficient for me. We are all living in hope, for it is “better to live in hope than die in despair”. Great will be the rejoicing when the right at last prevails. You may be sure I am taking no unnecessary chances because we have a dangerous enough job at all times. When I do have anything of extra danger, and especially if I have to lead others, I always feel the same: the one and only thought in my mind is hope there will be no mishap to the party. You ought to see the mud!  It is awful, and especially when it is nice and dark and you cannot see where you are going hardly. You plunk your foot down in a hole filled with water, or make a step and slip back three – more or less. Nevertheless the main thing is to get there, then all is happy. Well, must ring off for a little. With love to all, your loving son, H. Douglas Dunnett.

Another letter appeared in the same issue:

FIVE SHELLS FIRED; FIVE SHELLS MISSED

Rough Ride in Transport Wagon Under Fire
Doug. Dunnett and Harry Moody’s Wild Ride
Noise of a Bursting Shell as Loud as the Aylmer Electric Plant Explosion

Here’s another letter from Scout Corp. Doug. Dunnett to his mother, Mrs. John Dunnett, of Aylmer. He tells his mother of a fast ride under shell fire. “War is hell”, he says. The letter follows:

Belgium, 27 – 9 – 15

Dearest Mother – We are still in the land of the living, though at times one wonders for how long, especially when you hear those big shells tearing through the air like an express train and bursting like the Aylmer electric light plant explosion. I believe they make more noise than that when they light in the open. You ought to see the hole they put in the ground. One good thing, one would never know what struck him. Harry Moody and I had a really exciting ride the other day. We had been sent on a certain mission by Major Sales. When returning, being very tired, we got a lift from some of our fellows. We clammered into the wagon and suddenly they started off at the gallop, and it was all I could do to remain in the wagon, as I was sitting near the hind wheel. When at last we did come to a slow down, Harry said, “That was some exciting ride, wasn’t it?”  Of course I agreed and remarked “I guess they were trying to see how we liked a rough ride”, to which he replied, “I guess they didn’t, we were fired at five times; the five shells I counted, three on one side and two on the other”.  Well, you can imagine my astonishment. Here was I so busily employed that I didn’t see or hear them!  I almost doubted it in my mind, but looking back over the place we had come, I saw a shell burst in a field nearby. There was sure no doubt then. There are times when one thinks very rapidly. You suddenly hear the whiz of a bullet and invariable dick, though when you hear the it go there is no danger from it. Sometimes another comes after it, so by ducking from the first you miss the second, unless it happens to be in line with your head. The other day we had made up a shelter of a tent to keep out the rain, and were sitting huddled up to try and get some heat from our bodies, when a tremendous explosion occurred. A piece of the shell struck out happy little dwelling, but didn’t penetrate the canvas. I saw Lieut. Col. Brown the other night, and spoke to him for a few minutes. One begins to realize that “war is hell”, when you don’t get a wash or shave for a day or two and are wet, cold, tired and hungry. The other night I was so tired I didn’t care what happened. I often laugh to myself when I think, how, at home, if we were to sit on the grass of an evening we were afraid of taking cold. Here I have been out for two days at a time, lying down on a floor of earth without even a blanket or even a coat, and shivering like an aspen leaf. When you wake in the morning you are stiff and your shoulders sore. If it happens to be a fine day, well, then your clothes dry on you, if they are wet. But if we only manage to get through and are permitted to see our loved ones again, that alone will be reward enough. But we can only trust and pray for the best. So long as we do what we believe to be right it cannot matter which way it goes. Well, I guess there is not much more to tell. We are allowed to tell experiences but not movements of our troops. I do not get a great deal of time now to write. With love to all, your loving son, H. D. Dunnett.

The East Elgin Reformer, January 6, 1916:

DOUG DUNNETT WRITES

The Mud, the Mud of Belgium – Dick Smith, First Aylmer Boy to be Wounded
Back in the Trenches

Corp. Doug. Dunnett writes his mother, Mrs. John Dunnett, of Aylmer, as follows:

Belgium, Dec. 10, 1915

Dearest Mother – If you could only see me now, you would not, perhaps, recognize me for dirt. We are certainly in a fine plight. Imagine walking two and a half miles in mud indescribable, wet feet, and a pack that weighs nearly a ton; landing in a dugout, almost dilapidated, walls caving in and a probability of the roof coming down and burying one, mud again all over the place, and roof leaking. It has actually stopped raining, and some little wind and a wet moon constitute the night.  Harry Moody is trying to get the fire to burn and is fanning it with his hat. Yet, dearest, in the midst of all the seeming hardships, there are others worse off than we, and we have the Father to look after us, so we should not complain. Received your letter, all safe and sound; and seven others – how is that, eh?  Regarding the socks, I never heard of anyone finding a pair of socks before coming down here tonight, or I would be in a real nice pickle.  Thus, you see, I have managed dry feet, as I have secured the Lig boots again.

Dec. 13th, ‘15

You will see by this that my intentions were good, but somehow never finished that night. Next morning woke up in a puddle of water, and the bed, which I had suspended from the roof of the dugout and about one and a half feet from the ground, had lowered until it was on the ground; so you see the sinking was very gradual, and hence no casualties were caused therefrom. But we are happy again in another place, which may eventually come to grief, but we have hopes for several days to come. Such is life.  Dick Smith, the first Aylmer boy to be wounded, is back with us again. He is in the same company as I, and in fact was in training with me during our stay in Sandling. He says he is a little nervous yet, and I notice he jumps every time a cannon goes off. One cannot get altogether used to them, especially when “Fritz” is sending his projectiles our way and you are interested in watching the result of them, when suddenly one of ours opens out and you think he has come uncomfortably near. Many a time I have jumped on such occasions. Tonight is a beautiful moonlight night; and a little colder. I suppose at home the ground may be covered with snow. Here green grass and mud are the predominant features – and rats!  Oh, mother, if you knew how I hated a rat, you could sympathize with me in this respect. I have received so many parcels from friends that it seems as though I did not know just how to feel.  Out here there is so little to say, and one cannot write all the time. So I just try to do the best I can. I am still well and unharmed in any way whatever up to date. The stars are beautiful as ever, and that reminds me of days gone by, and you.  Your loving son, H. Douglas Dunnett.

An article regarding Douglas’ promotion was printed in the Aylmer Express, July 13, 1916:

It is good news to hear that Douglas Dunnett, son of Mr and Mrs John Dunnett, of this place, has been promoted to the rank of Lieutenant. Douglas enlisted with the 18th Battalion as a private, and after almost a year of constant service on the field, is certainly to be congratulated on his promotion.  One thing obvious, there is no red tape in connection with his advancement; it has been earned by bravery and a full sense of his duty to his King and Country.  Lieutenant Dunnett is the first East Elgin man to made an officer on the field.

A letter from Douglas was printed in the same issue, July 13, 1916:

LIEUT. DOUGLAS DUNNETT HAS HAD MANY NARROW ESCAPES

Writes of a Few of His Experiences to His Father, Mr. John Dunnett, of This Place

Belgium, 24 / 6 / 1916

Dear Father:

I have been back up the line now three days, and have started my new era of life as an officer.  I was very fortunate in getting back to my own battalion, where I know the people, and they have not only been very kind in doing all they could to help me obtain my commission, and have all given me a hearty welcome back, from officers down to the men. At the school, we had plenty of hard studying to do, and lots of good exercise in the line of sport after lectures were over. So, I am now in the best of health and strength.  Nine months out here seems a long time, and it certainly seems ages since I left dear old Canada and home.  Nevertheless, I have had most extraordinary health, and have been so well protected that I have no reason to complain whatever, only praise to offer up. True, I have had many narrow breaks, as they say, and in some cases wondered if the end was not very near. On one occasion I was in the cellar of an old house during a fierce bombardment. The light shells were striking the debris overhead, and heavy shells on the road.  The moaning of wounded men could be heard on all sides. Every now and then one could feel the hot breath of bursting shells on the face, and the air thick and heavy with smoke, and smelling much of explosive.  Of course, with this was the deafening roar of the guns of both sides, mingled with bombs, rifle and machine gun fire. After that, the machine gun and rifle were like sweet music compared with the Krupp [illegible] of the big stuff.  Of course it is one of the extraordinary rifles, but it will give you a slight idea of what your son, who always was fond of making a noise, is up against.  Here there are plenty of unburied men kicking about or pieces of them, and so we have something to remind us that the war is still on.  Well, there is not a great deal in the line of news just yet.  It is raining again, for a change. While at school in France, we did have fine weather, but as soon as we arrive in Belgium it seems to rain.  I am feeling fine now in every way, and hope you all are the same. Love to the little family – Your loving son, H. D. Dunnett.

Another letter from Douglas was printed in the Aylmer Express, October 5, 1916:

LIEUT. DUNNETT IS WELL, BEEN AT FRONT A YEAR

Is Surprised That He Has Been Spared That Long.

Describes Visit to Ruined Cathedral. Is Not Afraid to Drink the Dark Cup if Necessary

Mrs. John Dunnett, of Aylmer, has received the following interesting letter from her son, Lieut. Douglas Dunnett.  Lieut. Dunnett enlisted with the 18th Battalion, C.E.F., and went overseas with the 2nd Canadian contingent. He was given his commission on the field in France, as he went overseas as a private.

France, September 10th, 1916

Dear Mother:

Time is slipping along at a very rapid rate, and no mistake. How much longer it will fly away in this land, for us, it is hard to say. Do you realize that I have been in the field a year?  I wonder if next year I shall be writing from here.  Yesterday and today I have received three parcels from the D.O.E. for the boys, and they certainly appreciate them.  The country is looking beautiful, but it won’t be long before the rainy season will be here. Electric light is somewhat scarce where I am at the present moment, but I have a candle rigged in a box to protect it from the wind.

Today being Sunday, we had service out in the open, after which we had communion.  It will seem funny to have service in a church again, but oh, so good!  This evening, after supper, I went with the parson to a place not far away, in which is a ruined church, considered, so the padre told me, to have been one of the most beautiful.  It must have been a beautiful edifice, with pure marble altars of various colors.  In one place in the vaulted roof, there is still a perfect picture, worked out in mosaic.  The marble statues of the virgin and Christ Child, have been destroyed, and lie upon the ground. In one spot the marble, I noticed, was pulverized, and I could sift it through my fingers like salt or sand. I hope, it we can see a few months more through, that “some sweet day” I shall be able to tell you all about this. I have met the “Angel of the darker drink” but I hope he will not present his cup yet, but I am not afraid to drink it, if need be.  I am much surprised to be here as long as I have, but if we can only help end this affair, we shall not have lived entirely in vain.  There seems to be a war on, by the sound of things tonight.  For days the guns have been firing incessantly, and I guess “Hiney” is getting all he bargained for, and more. Am in the best of health.

Your loving son, Douglas

Note – Lieut. Dunnett sent an interesting souvenir in the form of a piece of canvas moresco paper, taken from the wall of the ruined cathedral which he visited.

Another letter from Douglas was published in the Aylmer Express, November 16, 1916:

LIEUT. DOUGLAS DUNNETT IS GLAD TO BE ALIVE

A Vivid, but Gruesome Picture of The Battlefield After the Battle

France, October 20, 1916
Dear Mother –

You will no doubt be wondering why I have neglected writing home last week, as usual.  Well, it was in this wise.  I have been detailed for a course in “Lewis gun”, and proceeded with twenty men to the school and it being in a little out of the way place where the facilities for letter writing were not obtainable, naturally correspondence for the time being, came to a sudden standstill. So, as I have again regained my unit, I hope in future to be able to meet the “current demands” on me. I can assure you, we are all very thankful to be in the land of the living, though I myself have not had a very active part in the big doings, which was, no doubt Providential, and has been the preservation of my life, for a few weeks more, at least.  During the big show, where our Battalion made its name, on the 15th of September, we lost many good old originals, and Harry Moody was wounded, which was better than many a poor fellow, who made the supreme sacrifice. There was a special order to the commander of the Battalion that a certain percentage of officers, N.C.O’s and men, were to be left behind, and at the time we had two officers in the scout platoon, and the seniors, wishing to go, I was left behind.  I tell you it was pretty hard to see all the chaps go, and have to stay behind, especially as Harry went. We were joking before we said goodbye about “suppose Harry should get a nice Blighty and I would still be out here this winter”. Well, so it was!  Harry got his ‘Blighty’, and I have heard from him and he is doing finely. Many of my lads, some of whom I have been with ever since enlisting, went under and these things make one not only think, but leave their impression.

As to the sights one sees, after a battle, upon looking over the field, ‘desolation’ certainly is the word, and I remember that picture, ‘After the Battle’ but no artist, unless he had actually seen it, could paint it. Those pictures that I have seen of battle fields, were those of fresh blood, and heat of battle, where one is too excited to heed much the gruesome part. But go over it a week later, where still on account of shells, it is impossible to bury the dead of either side, then their black faces upturned, one would really think at a distance that they were negroes. Then perhaps, only the trunk of what was once a man. Bodies in every conceivable shape. Then jump into a trench, stumble over a pile of earth and you wonder whether it is a Hiney: an Englishman, or a Canadian. When we came out of the trench for the last time, which by the way, we were very glad to do, at the bottom of the communication trench, where all the traffic was, night and day, I noticed a hand protruding from a heap of earth. Such are some of the experiences one goes through, and truly, ‘War is Hell’.  Well enough of this. I am well as usual.  

Love to all the family, Douglas

An article about Douglas’ promotion to Captain was printed in the Aylmer Express, May 15, 1917:

AYLMER MAN IS NOW A CAPTAIN

Left Here a Private and has Earned His Rank on the Battle Field

It is gratifying to the many Aylmer friends of Douglas Dunnett to learn that he has now been promoted to the rank of Captain, and has earned every inch of his promotion on the battlefields of France. He enlisted as a private in the 18th Batt., and went overseas in April, 1915. Last summer he was promoted to Lieutenant. Although in many of the big battles, he has never yet been wounded, in a recent letter to his friend, G. R. Firth, St. Thomas, he says in part: ‘I have been very busy of late and hence most, if not all, of my correspondence has suffered. I am very pleased to inform you that my promotion for a captain has gone through and I am now a captain and wearing the badge of rank. I like France better than Belgium, mostly for the reason that it is not so muddy. We have been having regular Canadian weather over here in the line of cold with but very little snow. I often wonder just how much longer this old war will hang on. Well, time will tell; right is might, and judging from Germany’s actions and our ideas of humanity I think she will have to learn the lesson’.

Capt. Dunnett is a son of Mr and Mrs John Dunnett, of this place.

Another letter from Douglas was printed in the Aylmer Express, July 5, 1917:

CAPT. DUNNETT TELLS OF SOME HAIR BREADTH ESCAPES

In a Letter to his Mother, Mrs. John Dunnett, of this place, 

He Describes Some Experiences

France, June 4th, 1917
My Dear Mother –

Received your welcome letter safe and sound. I have had a pretty rough time of it, but thanks to the all-loving and kind Father, I have survived it, and am much better for it, no doubt, though in a physical sense it leaves my nerves more susceptible to shock (if that is possible) which by the way, it is. Nevertheless as soon as we get out we must live in hope to come through another, perhaps ten times as bad. If only you could see me at this moment sitting in a little French arbor, in which we had our supper, the birds singing and the trees and plants all green. Oh, the very joy of being alive is a blessing and well do I appreciate that very fact. I am getting so fat that even the colonel has to laugh, though I haven’t anything on him. We are going to have a much needed rest, for a little while. Well, of course, while out, there won’t be many hair raising experiences, unless it might be your son trying to ride a horse, which I am very anxious to learn. Have had the pleasure of being on the noble animal’s back twice, the last time, coming from the trenches, and never was I so glad to get out of a place in all my natural life. It was the first time for me as company commander, and old Fritz evidently wanted to make it a record trip for me, and, believe me, he did alright. We were in a particularly nasty piece of trench, and the enemy could land on us from both the front and side all at the same time. He did that, too, by the way. During the day we had to keep as mum as field mice, and the simile struck me as very applicable. Picture yours truly crouched in front of my little flunk hole, which when sitting up, my head was stopped round the curves of its roof, and when lying down at full length, my feet stuck outside of this, my eyes were generally looking after the ‘eagle eye’ of the Hun aeroplanes, and when I saw one I would dive into that place, for fear he might detect us, and hence cause shelling, which is anything but a pleasant sensation. One night though Fritz thought he would pay our people a visit, which I believe afterwards, he must have much regretted. The amount of iron that flew that night was enough to give one nightmare for the rest of his life. A shell (small one) landed right on top of a flunk hole in which I was, and the next moment I had the sensation of being partly buried, but fortunately very slightly, for I guess I jumped fast and far enough to escape. I have a horrible dread of being buried alive, though I guess if one gets it badly, they would never know what happened, which occurred to some of my poor chaps. Another shell filled the trench with chalk dust, dirt and smoke. I could not see anything for a little time and my ears were plugged up. Stones and small shrapnel were ‘tinging’ on my steel lid like rain, but mother, I came through without a scratch. So you see how I enjoy this quiet spot every minute of the day, free from strain and uncertainty which is the cause of all worry.

Your loving son, Douglas.

Douglas returned home from overseas in 1918, landing in Halifax on May 20. An announcement of Douglas’ return to Canada appeared in the Aylmer Express, May 23, 1918:

Mr and Mrs John Dunnett have received word that their son, Captain H. D. Dunnett arrived at Halifax this week, and he is expected home any day now. It is very welcome news to his parents as well as his many friends in town, and was unexpected, as no inkling that he was expected to return to Canada at this time had been received. It is thought he has been sent home on furlough, as he has been on active service now for more than three years. Captain Dunnett enlisted and went overseas with the 18th Battalion from London, and by faithful service and ability has risen in the ranks to Captain. During the past year he has acting Major and has been in many of the hardest battles in which the Canadians have engaged. His arrival in Aylmer is looked forward to with pleasure by the citizens of Aylmer, who are proud of the record of this young officer.

Douglas was married on December 26, 1918 in St. Thomas to Myrtle James (1888-1963), of St. Thomas, the daughter of William James & Mary Small.

Douglas died on June 22, 1959 and is buried with his wife in Forest Lawn Memorial Gardens, London. His obituary appeared in the London Free Press, June 23, 1959:

D. DUNNETT, 68, DIES IN HOSPITAL

Harry Douglas Dunnett, 68, of 38 Euclid Ave., London, died Monday in Westminster Hospital. Born in Simcoe, he had lived in London for the last 40 years, and was a member of Wesley United Church. He was an orderly at Westminster Hospital until his retirement in 1957.

Surviving are his wife, the former Myrtle James, and a sister, Mrs. Harold (Julia) Rudolph, of Wilkinsburg, Pa.

Service will be held Wednesday at 3:30 p.m. at the A. Millard George Funeral Home, with the Rev. J. W. A. Stinson officiating. Burial will be in Forest Lawn Memorial Gardens.

Julia Dunnett

The name “Julia Dunnett” is found in a list of names being prepared for the Elgin County Book of Remembrance, which was printed in the St. Thomas Times-Journal in 1927, under Aylmer. 

Julia Augusta Dunnett was born on March 1, 1888 in Ingersoll, the daughter of John Dunnett & Elizabeth Jane Hughes (1853-1942).  John was a marble cutter.  The family moved to Simcoe where they are found on the 1891 and 1901 census.  By 1911, John & Elizabeth had moved to Aylmer, but Julia does not appear with them on the census.

Julia Dunnett was married on April 10, 1919 to Harold Victor Rudolph, of Charlotteville, Virginia.  They are found on the 1930 census in Wilkinsburg, Allegheny County, Pennsylvania with two children, Francis (born ca 1921 in Virginia), and John (born ca 1925 in Maryland).  Julia emigrated to the United States about 1907. She is found on the 1910 census in Norfolk, Virginia, working as a nurse.  Although no record can be found, it is assumed she served as a nurse during the war from the United States.

She died in December 1972 in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania.