This story profiles my uncle, Norman Joseph Ramsay, a soldier who died in the Battle of Ortona, Italy, aged twenty-three.
Norman Joseph Ramsay
Newcastle,
New Brunswick, in the nineteen thirties represented a community battling for
its economic survival. "The Great Depression" combined with the
collapse of the lumber industry threatened to extinguish its last breath. Men
and boys clambered aboard rail cars in the dead of night. They looked forward
to a brighter future in Western Canada.
Ben
Ramsay and his wife Clara barely made a living in a rented house on the town's
waterfront. Six days a week, he would climb the town hill to the Canadian
National rail yard.
He
joined a work gang to be transported to the site of a project several miles into
the deep woods. Two men teams carried railway ties weighing about one hundred
fifty pounds each on their shoulders. The work was brutal, in summer with the
creosote preservative oozing from the wood, burning their skin. Long, hot days
seemed to stretch on forever. All of this earned him one dollar and fifty cents
per day. For her part, Clara would clean the homes of local business people.
Norman
Ramsay, the couple's oldest son, had reached fifteen years of age in 1936. Standing
at five feet six inches, he was shorter than his grade eight peers; however,
his dark skin, abundant black hair, and brown eyes contributed to his
attractive appearance. His outgoing, fun - loving personality made him a hit
with the girls.
Rumours
of a significant event found their way into the little town and filtered down
to the local pool hall where Norman and his friends hung out. A madman in
Germany threatened countries around it. There could be a big war. It would be a
chance to see the world.
"I'm
gettin out of this town as soon as I can, and if some crazy lad in Germany
wants to help, that's fine by me," said Norman as he casually drank his
Coke. "As soon as school is done in June, I'm headed over to join the
North Shore Reserves."
"G'way with ya, Ramsay, y'er just a kid."
Dick Gough, Norman's best friend, issued the teasing challenge. They knew all
the best fishing spots within a day's walk and accumulated the highest combined
truancy rate of Harkins School. 'Your Ma ain't goin sign no permission for you
to do that.' The gauntlet stood thrown, the challenge presented. His friend and
some other companions had assembled near Norman, who surveyed them. He curled
his lip in his best imitation of Hollywood's current star, Clark Gable, and
replied, "Just watch me."
Susie Gibbs swooned in a
corner.
"Dick Gough, if
Norman says that he is signing up, I believe him." Susie and her friends
thought Norman the most handsome boy and capable of doing the most dangerous
things.
As
promised, on the last day of school, young Norman displayed his report card,
proclaiming that his time in school had concluded. His parents were not
surprised. Neither had gone beyond the elementary grades, and few in the town
progressed into high school. In case the released student supposed he had
turned into a man of free time, Ben set him straight. The son was expected to
secure work, aiding the family's finances.
Norman
had expected the response, and two days later, he presented himself at the
local recruiting station for the North Shore Regiment. Such self-assurance from
the young man surprised the duty officer; however, few occurrences marked the
preceding days. He took the youth's assertion of being sixteen as true.
Norman Joseph burst with
pride as he walked through the front door of his home, confident his mother
would support her son's initiative. He was wrong. She listened to her son's account
without saying a word. She searched a drawer for important documents, then
retrieved her hat and coat from the hall closet. If Norman had noticed the
storm clouds gathering on his mother's face, he could have avoided the
maelstrom he was about to endure, but he didn't. A sharp smack on the back of
his head registered, followed by a barrage of impacts on his posterior. They
had walked halfway down the street when he understood his mother held him by
the collar, while certain individuals, his companions among them, gestured and
giggled.
"What got into that fool head of yours? Clara didn't
wait for a response as she clipped his ear. No son of mine is going to put on
the uniform of a man while he is still a child." They arrived at the
recruiting office, and she threw open the door without knocking. The little
French lady from Fair Isle spotted the Sergeant and began a full -frontal
assault as she dug through her purse. "How can you be so stupid as to
accept the word of a child?" French words followed, needing no
interpreter. She slapped the birth certificate on the desk and looked up at the
red - faced soldier struggling for words. "You tear up that paper you gave
to my son." Still reaching for words, he took the paper from Norman and
tossed it into the garbage.
"I am very sorry, M'am, I…wasn't careful enough."
"His size should have been a clue for you."
With that, she turned, her son beside her, and left.
What followed over the next week was a stony silence
broken by arguments and commands. By Sunday, the anger had been spent. Norman
woke to the rare aroma of eggs and bacon. His mother and father greeted him at
the breakfast table. He felt the anger of the week drain and the burden of
resentment lifted from his shoulders. After they ate, he helped Clara clear the
table and wash the dishes. Ben sat comfortably in his rocker beside the window.
Smoking his pipe. She beckoned Norman to sit with her on the worn couch and
began.
"Eh bien, eh bien. We had a tough week, you and me.
I am sorry for some things that were said. My son, I am not sorry for stopping
you from joining the army. She took her handkerchief from her apron, removed
her glasses and rubbed away a few tears. At twenty-three, my dear brother
Prudent returned from the Great War, physically and mentally broken. The
thought of losing you, Norman Joseph, terrifies me. She looked into her son's
brown eyes reflecting her own and continued.
"Your father and I
have talked. He told me, I am being stubborn and selfish. He is right. I want
you to take the time to think it over. If after a few months you wish to join
and they will take you, I will not stand in the way. C'est fait," (It is
done). She pulled him to her, and they remained still for a few moments. She
rose, flattened her smock, and dropped a few sticks into the wood stove.
A mother's love is unfathomable, and on that morning in
1935, Norman Ramsay let himself sink into the reality. Brashness and
overconfidence were honed like a jeweler's stone. After breakfast, the boy left
the kitchen, a young man sensing love.
Several months later, after checking to be sure the recruiting
sergeant had been transferred, Norman was accepted into the North Shore
Regiment as a reservist. He joined a small group of fellow reservists. Wages
proved meager. He found work with a local pig farmer, feeding and cleaning the pens.
During this time, the young man learned the fundamentals of soldiering. His
skills at marksmanship grew, even with the limited supply of guns and
ammunition. The Canadian government was unwilling to commit to full
militarization even as European countries prepared to battle an unleashed
German empire For four years, Private Ramsay did what he needed to hone his
skills as a "soldier in waiting" and maintained the image among his
friends and townsfolk.
Canada declared war on Germany on September 10, 1939,
after the Polish invasion on
September 01. In January 1940, the nineteen-year-old Ramsay was one of
the first to join the North Shore Regiment as an active-duty soldier. He, along
with about 100 NSR soldiers, requested transfers to the CYR, despite the pleas
of the CO of the NSR to stay with them–he even told them that the NSR would not
be designated as a home war establishment regiment. The young men were eager to
get into the fight. The CYR had become part of the mix for the 1st
Canadian Infantry Division (1 CID) and that division would be the first one sent
to England. After he was transferred to the Carleton and York Regiment.
He was one of the few Acadians in the unit. His father was Scottish and mother French,
but his gregarious personality won him
many friends.
Carleton and York
Member,
Norman Ramsay
front row far right
The following month, the
bulk of the Carleton and York Regiment (CYR) was transported to the A14
Canadian Infantry Training Centre at Camp Aldershot, Nova Scotia. The base
served as an infantry training center for the CASF. Ramsay's skill as a
marksman emerged during this posting. On a bright sunny day in May, the CYR
embarked from a Halifax pier on the refitted passenger ship, the SS Duchess of
Bedford. Built by the Canadian Pacific Steamship Line, she and her sister ships
were known as "The Drunken Duchesses" for their tendency to roll
heavily in rough seas. The 20,000 gross ton vessel lived up to her name as she
bobbed and heeled in the wild North Atlantic. Many of the troops were
unfamiliar with sea travel and spent a lot of time in the latrines or retching
over the railing. Norman's difficulties proved more substantial.
A
few months later, while on leave in Southampton, he arranged to meet his
childhood friend, Dick Gough of Newcastle. Gough was with the North Shore
Regiment. Reconnecting brought immense joy to both fellows. In true Miramichi
style, they discovered a tavern where local citizens provided hospitality, and
they stayed in pleasant company until the early hours. A young barmaid spotted
the handsome Clark Gable look-alike and made sure his glass was never empty. The
object of her affection gave her prolonged, sidelong, smoldering looks.
The
Carleton and York Regiment stayed in England for three and a half years
(December 1939 to July 1943) to guard against a possible German invasion and to
take part in comprehensive, large-scale training with the 1st Canadian Infantry
Division. This was preparation for the Allies' offensive action on the European
mainland. Canadian troops, including the Carleton and York, served as a vital
strategic reserve and were stationed in southern England to deter and repel
enemy attacks.
This extended period of
"waiting and training" became discouraging for the soldiers who were
eager to fight. Ramsay's enthusiasm and frustration brought him into contact
with his immediate supervisors, beginning on Valentine's Day in February 1941.
He was fined three days' pay for "conduct to the prejudice of good order
and discipline" (in this case "being lippy"), an offence under
Sec 40 A.A. This action became a pattern repeated several times in the young
soldier's career. The charges remained in the misdemeanour range, including one
where he decided to enjoy an extended Christmas Break resulting in a charge of
being absent without "AWL."
His senior officers,
while dealing with his outbursts, saw the potential in the young French lad. He
continued to be well liked and respected by his peers, looking out for the
"newbies" to the Unit while providing leadership and "esprit de
corps" when morale ran low. On 26 Aug 43 he was promoted to A/Cpl (acting corporal)
on 10 Sep. October 06, 1943, he was promoted to Lance Corporal. On 9 Jan 44
Ramsay reverted to A/Cpl at his request. Being separated from his buddies and
being in a higher rank didn't suit him.
By his own admission,
Norman was never comfortable with the military rank system, which separated the
troops. His humble roots and beliefs were the source of his irreverence.
The exhaustive regime for
the CYR would be broken by scheduled leaves, which were spent in local
villages. Ramsay was a favourite among his mates; sharing anecdotes of his
"misbehaviour" and pursuing the young women of the parish.
Occasionally,
he would dash off a letter to his older sister, Rita. The two were only a year apart,
but a worldview separated them. During his care-free days in Newcastle, Norman
pursued thrills, relishing the company of many. Conversely, Rita maintained a
staid, careful perspective on happenings and folks around town. Despite the
differences in nature, they remained close. His scattered letters reveal the
young soldier's nature more vividly.
May
13, 1943
Hi
Sis. I got a few days off base. Just sending a quick message to discover my big
sister's latest schemes. As a nurse now, do you think you will enjoy this role?
You are a natural, with all the experience of watching over me, occasionally
patching me up. It's getting hard to remember those carefree days in our little
town. We train and train, then do some more. Nobody says anything, but I think
something big is coming soon. I'm not afraid because we are as ready as can be,
and when we meet Jerry, I can talk him to death if I run out of bullets. Would
you make sure Momma and Papa get the Survivor Benefit if something happens. I
send most of my salary home, and Momma says it helps. I'm glad about that. Okay,
Rita, time to go. A few lads and I are going to the local pub where we hang
out. I had a little run-in with an officer yesterday; my uniform made him unhappy,
so now I'm unhappy to pay a fine. I will be good tonight, so don't worry. Love
you.
Joseph Norman
Ramsay's sense that
something big was about to happen was prescient. They left the UK in July 1943,
and on July 10, 1943, the regiment landed at Pachino, Sicily, during the initial
amphibious assault of Operation Husky. They moved inland against fierce German
and Italian resistance; they earned their first major battle honours. This
engagement helped secure the Canadian advance through the rugged Sicilian
interior. On September 3, 1943, the unit crossed the Strait of Messina. They
landed at Reggio di Calabria as part of Operation Baytown. They advanced up the
"toe" of Italy, clearing the Axis forces out and pushing deep into
the mountainous central region. By late autumn, the winter weather and
fortified German defensive lines slowed the advance.
Later, Major General
Chris Volkes was appointed by Field Marshall Montgomery to lead the First
Canadian Infantry Division (1 CID) in November. Volkes grew up in a small Irish
village. He came to Canada as a child. From an early age he was a scrapper and
gained a reputation as an excellent boxer. The senior staff saw him as an
"adequate leader". He inspired unwavering devotion in the men of the
Carleton and York. Ramsay admired the broad - shouldered ex-boxer for his direct,
sometimes coarse manner. Carleton and York Regiment soldiers came from New
Brunswick's villages and small towns, where directness and honesty defined a
man's value. When Volkes visited, Ramsay and others were ordered to be in full
battle dress. They were to be gathered around their commander as he provided
words of encouragement, delivered in colourful language.
Tank rolling though a street in Ortona Italy
By
November, the CYR came up against the battle-hardened German infantry, which
had set up two major lines of defence: the Gustav and Hitler lines. Combined,
the two cut a horizontal track across the middle of Italy, cutting off the
route to Rome, a major goal for an Allied victory. By December 13, the fight
for an area known as the "Gully" began. There were initial victories,
but as the weather worsened, the advances became mired in mud, leading to the
village of Ortona. The feared rainy season was preventing the 1st Canadian
Armoured Brigade from reaching its goals. Christmas of '43, which had been an
unspoken beacon of hope for Norman Ramsay and others in the CYR, was lost in
swirling clouds of rain and snow. The situation quickly became a stalemate,
with the Allied troops unable to advance against the Germans. Historians agree
that Prime Minister Churchill and later Field Marshall Montgomery had
underestimated the strategic positioning of the German defences combined with
the weather and the resources provided to the Brigade. Many writing of the
fighting call it "The Little Stalingrad."
Volkes was under
tremendous pressure from Montgomery to keep moving the 1CID forward, despite
the deteriorating weather which turned streams and rivers into giant mudholes,
immobilizing tanks and any supporting vehicles. Forward movement now depended
on the infantry divisions. The stalled assault was becoming world news, with
large American outlets throwing a spotlight on Volkes and his boss.
The Allied forces
attempted to break through the German defensive positions, but they were facing
well-fortified gun emplacements and powerful counterattacks. One episode
involved the Carleton and York Regiment losing 81 men. The situation was
becoming desperate.
While
Volke struggled to devise a plan, soldiers in the quagmire were struggling to
stay alive. Their supply lines were becoming unreliable under assault from
German heavy guns. Ammunition and food were running out. It was at this time
that "mouseholing" was attempted. It involved soldiers avoiding
direct assaults from enemy forces by moving from inside one building to
another. They would blow holes as exits and entrances, allowing limited forward
movement and avoiding mass casualties.
In
one of these situations, Private Norman Ramsay and several others had found
temporary shelter in the crumbling foundation of a village church. It afforded
a temporary safe and dry vantage point. During a pause, they scavenged kitchen
debris, locating some food. Somebody discovered a box of tea, and the group was
almost comfortable. A few loaves of bread, biscuits, and hot tea combined to make
a banquet for the exhausted, frightened lot.
He
appeared more like a spectre than a human form. A waif of a child, he darted, sparrow-like,
among the ruins, never losing track of the assembled food. Ramsay spotted him
first. The boy's clothes were rags, hanging on his wafer-thin frame. Norman
made eye contact with the man closest to the child. Almost casually, his
comrade reached for the bread on his plate and layered it with jam. He
proffered it silently. Others saw it happen and continued to chatter, keeping
the youth calm. In a flash, he grabbed the food. But instead of devouring it,
he bowed his head toward the soldier to acknowledge the gesture. A cup of hot
tea was passed to him, which he drank wordlessly. The strange, slow dance
continued for twenty minutes while each soldier gave one piece of his bread and
jam while casually talking among themselves.
Afterward,
one man, familiar with Italian, began a conversation in a slow, deliberate
manner. Gradually the picture became clear. Nino was his name. He was thirteen
(he looked to be ten). He lived in a village nearby. His father was killed in
battle. There was not enough food in the home. He left his mother and two
sisters. The men decided he would stay with them until they met up with a Red
Cross brigade. He knew he was safe and clung to the hope of seeing his family
again. They readily surrendered portions of their food supplies and watched
over the kid.
Tired
now, they found quiet spots to rest in fleeting moments; some slept fitfully,
others spoke in hushed tones. Ramsay reached into his satchel and pulled out a
tattered notebook. He had been thinking of writing a note to his mother. The
events of the past few days added a sense of urgency.
December 15, 1943
Dear Momma
Well, it's almost
Christmas. I was thinking about the beautiful baking you do. The big sugar
cookies with jam in the middle. The notes with the button eyes and the Pubnico molasses
cookies. Hope you could get the ingredients. Soon Erving and Oland will go back
of the tracks to get a nice tree. Rita is probably home to help you and Millie
with the baking and decorations. I hope the other children are behaving. I sure
miss them and you and Papa. This year I won't make it home for Christmas, but
next year we will have a great big feast. With a good job, I can get some nice
presents for everyone. I know I haven't always been your ideal child, but that
will change. Love you very much. Tell Papa I love him.
Your Son,
Norman Joseph
Norman's
Parents
Clara and Ben
Ramsay
For
twelve days the Allied forces fought a seesaw battle with hardened German
troops led by the skilled and feared elite Fallschirmjäger paratroop regiment. Vokes'
strategies for advancement failed one after the other, leaving men and machines
incapable of fighting. The Charlotte and York Regiment was called upon to act
as advance troops in two incidents.
On the latter battle, Corporal Ramsay sustained
a leg injury. A dressing was applied, and an order to transport to a field hospital
was issued. The beleaguered and possibly shell - shocked Ramsay refused,
deciding instead to crawl into a crater to rest. He stayed there for a day and
emerged to fight again.
On December 27, the soldiers on the
outskirts of Ortona heard it first: an eerie silence. It hung over the area
like a fog, broken only by the anguished screams of men who pleaded for death
to find them. The German forces had withdrawn during the previous night. As the
news spread, there was no celebration, just the rustle of boots dragging along
empty streets. Back at headquarters, the atmosphere was muted as Commander
Vokes and his staff turned a page in the grand strategy book. Ramsay and his
buddies climbed out of their many locations. As he walked along the centre
street, men crawled out of their hiding spots. Heads kept popping up like so
many rabbits. He walked further and came upon the ruins of the once splendid
Saint Thomaso Cathedral. It looked as if some immense hand had split it in two
pieces. In an act of spite directed at the inhabitants, the German paratroopers
obliterated the building in their retreat. Passing by the ruins, the sun that had
lain hidden for days emerged to display the huge stained-glass window.
Partially destroyed, it seemed to rise from the surrounding rubble, spilling
hundreds of colourful rays in a dazzling display of its former grandeur. Norman's
thoughts drifted toward the cathedral located opposite his hometown across the
river. His uncle had taken him and his mother to see it when he was a kid. He
was staggered by its immensity and the huge stain glass window towering on its
main wall. This moment brought a sharp focus to a memory long since hidden.
Happiness and fear competed for a place when he recalled his mother's comment,
"We are never so close to God when we are in his house. Apprehension crept
into his mind.
There was to be no rest for the 1st
Canadian Division as Commander Vokes swept
over his terrain map. Montgomery would be up his ass to continue the battle
north. He assessed his troop strength. They had been mauled by the fighting
since early December. Like cogs in some giant war machine, his troops, while
performing courageously, became worn down. The equipment they relied on showed
signs of deterioration and lacked availability. The weather, having improved
slightly over the past week, was forecast to close in again with snow, wind,
and rain. He looked gloomily at the strength of the Second Canadian Infantry Brigade.
None of its three decimated regiments could muster enough firepower to provide backup
for the other two brigades.
It would be left to his men, and it could not
be a prolonged fight. It must be quick and decisive before they would be
destroyed themselves. The 1 CID regiments were a shadow of their prewar
strength. Leading the assault fell to the Carleton and York. He reflected on
what made these New Brunswick farmers and lumbermen such a vital fighting
machine.
December
30, 1943. A location, "Point 59" identified by Allied Command (Italy)
was the collection point for battalions. They planned to swing north next for
their last assault on the Gustav and Hitler lines combined. The 1 CID was led
by the New Brunswick, Carleton and York Regiment. Within four hours, the
outcome was determined. The variables were unchanged; troops, supplies, and
climate produced identical grim outcomes, mirroring previous conflicts. Tanks
were sucked up in the mud like toys. Infantry sections that followed could not
advance. The few who tried became fodder for the German gun emplacements.
New Year's Eve, an icy wind swept down
the mountain above the town, accompanied by rain and ice pellets. Ramsay followed
his sergeant on a reconnaissance of the area. They were struggling to get
through a vineyard when shots rang out from a camouflaged German gun placement.
The sergeant hit the dirt. Norman did the same as his Bren gun fired off a few
rounds. His leader looked back in terror; Ramsay looked to see his safety was
off and he had nearly killed his sergeant. Out of the vineyard, they continued
wordlessly until returning to shelter. Neither man spoke of it; both
acknowledging the razor-thin line separating them from the surrounding corpses.
Four days later, the same
sergeant led his platoon to secure "Point 59". The CYR took Torre Mucchia,
a German strongpoint, on 4 January 44, all part of the fighting around Point 59.
Hypothermia was a constant threat. Unlike previous attempts, the Carleton and
York were supported by artillery. B Company attacked using three platoons. A
whistle from the Division commander signalled the advancement. Corporal
Ramsay's new respect for his leader put him close to his side. The party slogged
through the mud, threatening to entrap and expose them to machine gun fire.
Progress steadied as they came over a rise. Ramsay and his sergeant happened
upon four Germans trying to reload their guns. Just as his leader threw a
grenade to destroy the nest, Norman spotted a single soldier on the side of the
trench aiming at the Seargent. Ramsay careened toward him, shooting him in the
chest.
Within two hours of the
initial attack. B Company, with its three platoons, had accomplished the task.
"Point 59" was taken, allowing the advancement of the combined Allied
troops north toward Rimini on the Adriatic coast.
Norman Joseph survived that attack and more in the
"clean up" from the Battle of Ortona. The Carleton and York Regiment
had established itself as a credible fighting force. It had started World War
Two with eight hundred troops. At the conclusion of the Ortona operation, the
regiment was listed as being temporarily unfit to continue offensive operations,
and the surviving troops were granted an extensive leave of action. During that
time, Ramsay and his comrades found refuge in small villages behind the active
lines. One such place held the young veteran's last letter to his sister, Rita.
January 23, 1944
Hi Sis,
I'm writing this letter
after an enormous battle you may read about someday. In it, my regiment got
pretty banged up, so we got some time for R & R. Are you back to work after
the Christmas break? It must have been great to see the folks again? I miss you,
Momma, Papa, and everybody really badly. I have been through stuff nobody could
imagine. It showed me value in the good things and people from Newcastle. We
have the toughest battle ahead of us, Rita and I may not make it. Sometimes I
think of Momma reading the tea leaves, and I don't want to look.
If I don't get back home,
would you do what you can to help at home, but take care of yourself too. Life
is too short. Love you, sis.
Joseph Norman
After the leave, the Carleton
and York were strengthened and rejoined the 1st Canadian Division on
the last assault of the Hitler Line. The Allied forces had been fighting since
January to push past Cassino in their attempt to capture Rome. Three major
battles had failed. In May, a decision was made to move the Canadians from the Adriatic
coast west to Casino for a major push by the 8th British Army. Canadians
of 1 CID and 5 CAD would strike into the Liri Valley and push toward Rome.
On May 23, 1944, 23-year-old
Corporal Norman Joseph Ramsay was mortally wounded by a single shot fired by an
enemy. B Company took its objective in 75 minutes. CYR were attached to 2 CIB that
day as part of Operation Chesterfield to breach the "Adolf Hitler Line."
Norman is buried in grave
IV.G.4 near many of his comrades in the Cassino War Cemetery, Italy.
Clara couldn't sleep the
night of May 22, 1944. Earlier she had been thinking of her son
Overseas. Awake now, she
turned to lie on her side. She then noticed a shape resembling a person
near the bed. She put on
her glasses and sat up. An image of her son was sitting beside her.
His tear-stained face was
visible in the moonlight through the window. Speaking in a melancholy
tone that she strained to
hear, he told her he had been killed in battle. But she was not to worry;
now he was at peace. The
figure disappeared as his words drained away. Her shock at the
appearance of the
apparition was total and left her unable to move until the morning light. She
didn’t wake Ben, fearing
he would not believe her. In the morning, she shared the news. Try as
he might, Ben could not
convince her it was a bad dream. Three days later, the comfort of their
home was broken by a
knock on the back door. A young boy produced a telegram advising them
that their son Norman
died in battle at Pontecorvo, Italy, on May 23, 1944. This account was
shared by her children
over the decades. The parents' love for their child and the profound
suffering endured by them
and the family outweighs the importance of factual accuracy.
The practical aspect of
losing her son hit home to Clara when she experienced delays in
receiving Norman's
pension and medals. Hearing nothing from the Defence Department, the
gutsy Acadian wrote two
letters. His pay and parents' supplement of approximately $900 was
received fifteen months
after his death.
The service medals
arrived over four years later, in 1949.
When
his life–long friend, Dick Gough, heard of Norman's death, he wrote the
following poem in remembrance and presented it to Clara Ramsay after the war.
MY
BUDDY
This
boy that I write of, an Acadian lad
Was
the best mate in our town that I ever had.
We
roamed the wood, fished the river and jigged from our school
Yes,
both of us experts at acting the fool.
Norm,
your face I remember, so handsome, so true
And
I gave my best grip on my last meeting with you.
You
came on your leave to see me once more,
And
to share boyhood memories of home; long our shore.
My
Newcastle buddy, how well I remember you yet
The
best pal I had, one I'll never forget.
That
night in old England 'twas a night of good cheer,
As
we sat in the pub and drank up our beer.
The
next day we parted near the old Sally Ann.
And
you walked down the road with a wave of your hand.
Months
later you gave them all that you had,
Your
youth and your life, you Canadian lad.
Yes,
this Acadian soldier, this buddy of mine,
In
the bloodbath of Hell on the Hitler Line.
Richard
Gough
Norman's Nephews Norman (R) Dan (L)
visit grave Cassino 2026
In 2006, Erving Ramsay
and his wife, Jessie, donated a stained-glass window to St.
Mary's Parish in the
former town of Newcastle. It commemorates the sacrifice and ultimate death
of his brother, Norman,
and those who perished in the Italian campaign of World War Two.
Lahr
Valley
Dog tags of Norman's brother,
Gerald Ramsay,
and brother-in-law, Dennis Leslie,
both also served in
the Canadian Armed Forces
