Highlands Memorial Window
One of the most poignant and fascinating aspects of our church is the memorial window. This window is made of scraps of glass collected from ruined churches on the European battlefields by Reverend T.R. Davis, M.A.,B.D.,D.D., who served as a padre with the Canadian Army overseas while he was the minister of this congregation.
(A)
Brettville, France
(I)
Katwyk, Holland
(Q) Gouvix,
France
(B)
Rindern, Germany
(J)
Duffelmarch, Ger.
(R) Lisieux, France
(C)
Xanten, Germany
(K)
Louisendorf, Ger.
(S) Bremen, Germany
(D)
Frasselt, Germany
(L)
Marienbaum, Ger.
(T) Gronigen, Holland
(E)
Bertin, Germany
(M)
Fontenay, France
(U) May-sur-Orne, France
(F)
Cleve, Germany
(N)
St. Andre-sur-Orne
(V) Norden
(G)
Calcar, Germany
(O)
Fleury-sur-Orne
(W) Ifs,
France
(H)
Arnhem, Holland
(P)
May-sur-Orne
(X) Caen,
France
This
window was presented to Highlands United
Church
by H/Capt. Reverend T. R. Davies.
It
was unveiled by the Lieutenant-Governor the
Honorable
J. C. Bowen on November 7th, 1948.
It
was dedicated by the Reverend E. T. Scragg, D.D.
on
behalf of the President of the Alberta Conference.
Out
of the grandeur of the past,
The work of loving hands long years ago;
They
come, these jewelled fragments,
Saved
with thoughtful care from rubble
wrought
by freedom’s foe.
Bright
facets through which oft the sun has shone
And
beauty shed on kneeling men;
Lifted
from destruction’s cruel wrath
And
set anew to please man’s eye again.
Long
years their quiet radiance aided man
In
many lands to find his God;
Till
ruthless man, forgetful of their cause,
Trampled
their beauty in the sod.
We
dedicate anew these gems from out the past;
To grace a peaceful age;
We
pray that never again shall they diffuse
Their
light on wars men wage.
So
much of history here in this shining gift
Of
love, of joy and pain.
Here
let them teach men to pray aright
And
find their first great sacrament again.
Alice Emmott
31st October 1948
STORY OF THE WINDOW
THE BIRTH OF
THE IDEA
The
following two paragraphs are taken from my personal war diary and dated 17th
July 1944.
“I
had nine voluntary services yesterday and the attendance was almost 100%.
Men don’t have to be compelled to go to church in the present
circumstances. As a matter of fact,
I had requests for services which I was unable to fill.
Perhaps the most successful service of the day was held in a shell hole.
You will think that the congregation must have been very small, but 30 of
us sat in this cavity and there was plenty of room.
I walked around the rim of the hole and it took me 45 steps to get
around. It was about 12 feet deep
so that we could stand up and be still concealed.
The lads called it their “Rosebowl”, and had it fixed up for the
service before I arrived. The last
service of the day was one to be remembered because of the manner in which the
lads sang “Abide with Me”.
My
message was based on an experience I had on the previous day.
I had visited the church in Carpriquet that had been completely wrecked. There was little left except rubble and I tried to imagine
what it had been like before the shells landed.
Someone had been there ahead of me and had attempted to restore the
altar. The base was there with the
carved figure of a lamb. Above this
there was a cross but the image of Christ had been blown off.
The empty cross had been put in place and the shattered figure had been
gathered up and placed on the pedestal at the foot of the cross.
I knew that someone with a sense of value had visited the place and had
performed this act of reverence. I
discovered later that it was lads from my own battalion.
The theme of my message was that there is some hope for a world when
there are people who recognise that some things have to be preserved and are
willing to make some effort to save these things from the rubble.
It is depressing to see so much destruction and it is very easy to become
cynical. The hope of the future is
in the people who see that some things do matter and who are willing to put
forth a bit of effort to see that they are preserved and furthered.”
We
passed through the rubble of Caen on the 18th of July.
I put on my respirator to protect myself from the smell of death and
corruption. We moved southward
along the bank of the Orne River and prepared for the assault on St. Andre-sur-Orne.
In the few days that followed there was rain, mud, and machinations of
the enemy that caused the jitters in some and anxiety for all of us. They were sad days because we saw so many of our friends
evacuated to hospitals or to that realm that we knew was more peaceful than
ours.
It
was on the evening of July 20th, after a terrible day at the Regimental Aid
Post, that I wandered by myself to the village of Fleury-sur-Orne.
I wanted to be alone and I had my opportunity.
The village was deserted. I
looked at the church building with the walls still standing.
I read a few of the inscriptions on the walls. I was reminded of my boyhood days in Quebec and found my
ability to read the language very rewarding.
The darkness was coming on so I decided to return to my blankets at the
roadside. I knew that I would miss
the nightly chat with Jim and Howard. Both
of them had been killed that day. I
didn’t need a souvenir to remind me of the day, but I remembered my sermon of
Sunday before and picked up a piece of glass from the rubble around the Fleury
church. It was a small square piece
of orange colour. It took up little
space in the pocket of my battle-dress tunic.
I returned to the friends that were left. It was a horrible night with flares lighting up the sky and
enemy planes flying low and sprinkling the area with machine-gun fire.
I tried to find some protection behind some bales of hay, trusting that
tracer bullets would not set them aflame. It
was a relief when daylight returned. In
the early morning, our men began checking over the territory that had been won
the previous day. When they were
going through the church at Fleury, they found seven German soldiers hiding in
the balcony. They had hidden there
to let the war pass them by. They
were frightened lads. They must
have been there when I was prowling about on the previous night.
If I had known of their presence there would have been eight frightened
men instead of seven.
During
the remaining days of July 1944, we were held up in the same general area.
The enemy was resisting fiercely. Our
casualties were heavy and my days were filled with the sad task of burying the
dead. I picked up fragments of
glass from the ruins of the churches in Caen, Fontenay-de-Marmion, Ifs, St.
Andre, May-sur-Orne, and on each piece I put the names of the lads I had buried.
This practice had to be discontinued because the number of names was
usually too great to write in as small a space as my glass provided.
Early
in August, there was word of a push and rumours that the enemy was being
trapped. We were given objectives
each day that were to be achieved regardless of cost.
We began moving more rapidly and resistance was weakening.
As we entered the village of Gouvix, we saw a place where there was
little destruction. The enemy moved
out so quickly that hardly a shot had to be fired.
I looked at the church as we entered and the windows were unbroken. The medical officer knew of my collection and suggested that
he would send one of his lads with a brick so that I might have a souvenir of
Gouvix. I refused his offer, but
when we were settled for the night, I decided to investigate for myself.
I sat in the church for a while and looked around for a broken window.
All
My
long stay of three months in hospitals in France and England delayed my
glass-gathering. I thought for a
time that the project had ended because most of my collection had been left in
the truck that was blown up when the medical officer was killed.
I am ever grateful to RQMS Ossie Harrison who returned to the spot and
gathered what was left of my belongings and held them for me during my absence
from the Camerons. It was not until February 1945 that I discovered that the
pieces of glass gathered in Normandy were not lost to me. When they were restored to me I continued the project and
began adding to the collection.
It
was Christmas 1944 when I returned to the Camerons.
They were stationed at Mook on the Maas River in Holland.
It was a period of waiting but occasional shelling and regular patrols
caused the loss of a few of our men each week.
The glass from Mook and Katwyck is a memorial of this period.
The long period of waiting came to an end with the coming of spring
weather and the attack on enemy positions began again on February 8th, 1945.
The Canadian army became nomadic again.
It was not easy, however, as the enemy was making a desperate effort to
keep its bridgehead on the west bank of the Rhine.
The next six weeks recalled the days in Normandy to veterans of this
campaign in Northwest Europe. In
our trail were destroyed buildings and a devastated countryside but the sense of
rough justice brought back much of what he had given. Our trail was marked to by the temporary cemeteries that had
to be established hurriedly and left behind.
The destroyed churches again provided me with the fragments to remind me
of the bitter campaign. Frasselt is
in the Reichwald Forest and close by were the upper reaches of the Seigfried
Line. The peculiar figure of an
animal in
There
Only
a few fragments are in the memorial to remind me of this last phase of the war
in Europe. The prominent face in
the memorial is from Dremen where the destruction was so complete that I counted
myself fortunate to get so complete a fragment.
Events were moving rapidly and so were we in this period, and May 8th
1945, found us north and west of the city of Oldenburg.
Our last duty was to liberate a concentration camp located behind a
church near the town of Norden. There
is a fragment to mark that event.
I
must not omit the little incident that took place in the Dutch city of Gronegen
where our battalion had a part in the liberation.
The grateful Dutch were offering anything that we might desire to mark
the occasion. I made a request that
must have marked me as queer in the minds of these folks.
I was looking at the main tower of the city.
Some of the glass had fallen from the windows of this tower during the
fighting. The tidy Dutch were
sweeping up the debris almost before the fighting had ceased. My request was for a piece of glass from these sweepings.
My request was granted and I am sure the Dutchman who handed me the
fragment regarded this as the most modest request made by any of the liberating
Canadians. This fragment is not
colourful, but I regarded it as a reminder of a unique request.
Another
piece of plain glass is in the window for a very personal reason.
I was born in the village of Ste. Therese, Province of Quebec.
When the war was over, I was sent by the commanding officer of the
Camerons to visit the whole area over which the battalion had fought in
The
fragment from Arnhem also requires a special explanation.
That heroic yet tragic landing by British paratroopers on 17th September
1944, needs no recounting here. For
months, from our quarters near Nymegan in Holland, we looked out across the Maas
River and could see the ruins of Arnhem occupied by the enemy. When the war was over I had the opportunity to visit the
ruined town. I felt that it was
fitting that I should have something to remind me of the town which for so long
was so near and yet so far. Arnhem
must remain as one of the magnificent failures of World Was II. The place remained in the hands of the enemy until within a
few weeks of V.E. day. Before I
left Europe in 1945, the rebuilding of Arnhem had begun.
The piece of glass restored to a window here becomes the emblem of the
restoration that is going on in Europe.
THE FRAGMENTS BECOME A MEMORIAL
At
the first Anniversary Service following my return to the pastorate of Highlands
United Church, the fragments were presented to the congregation with the
understanding that they would be incorporated into something that would be a
memorial to the men of the congregation who served in World War II.
The gift was accepted and Mr. A.J.H. Powell
THE MEANING OF THE MEMORIAL
In
1842 Dr. F. W. Robertson predicted that the doctrine of self-interest would
cause the world to be shivered to atoms. His
prophesy has come true, and to us is given the task of rebuilding.
We have the opportunity to ‘remould it close the heart’s desire’.
In this task
(A)
The glass in the window is very old.
Perhaps William the Conqueror looked at some of it before he left
Normandy in 1066. It is not
improbable that sunshine filtered through some of this very glass and fell upon
the face of Anne of Cleves before she set out to become the bride of an English
king. Certainly much of it is steeped in history and in our modern
day we need to be reminded that wisdom did not begin with us.
This memorial should keep us in constant remembrance of our obligation to
preserve the principles that have stood the testing of time.
(B)
This glass has come from lands outside of Canada.
We have been very fortunate in this country of ours.
We have escaped the destruction that Europe has suffered.
We may be tempted to feel very superior and perhaps a bit self-righteous.
We must not forget that we are a young country with many problems to
face. Let us not think that we have nothing to learn from Europe.
In France, Holland, Belgium and Germany, I saw too much that I coveted
for my own country. This glass can represent the contribution that has been made
by the Europeans who have come to us and from those who are still to come.
We can learn much from them and our land can become richer because of
what they bring.
(C)
This glass can represent for us the sad fragments of men whose graves are in
foreign lands. It was my sad task
as a padre, to gather some of these fragments in the same manner as I gathered
the glass. In the midst of death
and destruction, it is not difficult for despair to take hold.
It is only our faith in immortality that will present such a tragedy.
My own faith was strengthened in all my experiences with death.
The alternative was too terrible to entertain for even a moment.
More than once as I cared for the lifeless bodies of my friends, I picked
up the ugly pieces of shrapnel that had done the damage.
It is inconceivable that such ugliness could really be victorious over
all the fine qualities that I knew to be in these lads.
If ugliness speaks the last word, then life is not worth having.
Our faith assures us that there are qualities that death cannot destroy,
and so we can picture these fragments of men having
This window can present a more effective sermon than has ever been
preached from the pulpit, if we will allow it to root us more firmly to the
great truths that have come out of the past, if we will allow it to broaden our
understanding of our brethren in other lands, and if we will allow it to remind
us of God’s Eternal Design.
The memorial was unveiled on the seventh day of November 1948, by the
Lieutenant Governor of Alberta, the Honourable J.C. Bowen, and dedicated by the
Reverend Doctor E.T. Scragg, former president of the Alberta Conference of the
United Church of Canada. The
Queen’s Own Cameron Highlanders of Canada, with whom I served in Europe, were
presented at this dedication service by Major John Dixon, Captain Paul Kenway
and Lieutenant B. Breivik. The memorial is placed in Highlands United
Church as a tribute to the memory of the men and women of the congregation who
served in the armed forces in World War II, and in special memory of those who
made the supreme sacrifice.
The Committee
In the spring of 1948 a design for the
window was prepared by Mr. A.J.H. Powell and adopted by the Window Committee
consisting of Reverend T.R. Davies, Miss Ethel Field and Mr. Powell.
