Tag Archives: Royal Newfoundland Regiment

The Battle of Beaumont-Hamel: commemoration and remembrance

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By Ethan M. Coudenys

The Battle of the Somme began on July 1, 1916, at 7:30 a.m., but preparations for the attack took longer than expected. The advance was planned to relieve pressure on the French forces fighting at Verdun, and it was meant to take place during the last few days of June. However, because of poor weather, the attack was delayed. For the First Newfoundland Regiment (later the Royal Newfoundland Regiment), this meant lying in wait for the assault to begin. On the first day of July, at 7:20 a.m., the Hawthorn Ridge Redoubt held by the Germans was blown up, and the British attack began 10 minutes later.

Over the course of 45 minutes (between 9 and 9:45 a.m.), the Newfoundlanders sent their men over the top of the St. John’s Road trench into no man’s land. Unfortunately, due to the high casualty rates during the early phases of the attack that morning, the Newfoundlanders had to walk above the trenches, instead of benefitting from the relative safety of the communication trenches that linked the secondary line to the primary and observation lines. In this period, nearly 85 per cent of the Regiment would be killed, wounded, or missing. Of the nearly 900 Newfoundlanders in the field, only 65 would be present at roll call the following day.

The Battle of Beaumont-Hamel was the bloodiest day in Newfoundland’s history, and in the First World War as a whole. The loss of life was too much for the British Dominion of Newfoundland. It was forced to revert to colony status in the 1920s and eventually joined the Canadian Confederation in 1949. The commemoration of this battle is a moving story that deserves more attention.

Soldiers stand on hill with caribou monument, as crowd below watches in front of wall with bronze plaques.

Beaumont-Hamel dedication ceremony for the Royal Newfoundland Regiment (e010751150).

The Beaumont-Hamel Newfoundland Memorial Park, currently administered by Veterans Affairs Canada, is located at the site of the battle. Canadian student guides are there every day, sharing the story of the Newfoundlanders of the Great War who gave their lives in service to their nation. The park itself is incredibly pristine, with massive trees, magnificent gardens and an excellent visitors centre. But the landscape tells the tale of the horrific impact that the Battle of Beaumont-Hamel had on the Dominion of Newfoundland, and the terrifying reality of war for the regiment.

The memorial site itself officially opened on June 7, 1925, and it offers a setting with a sense of home for the soldiers who were killed in the battle. The park’s landscape architect, Basil Gotto, created this ambiance by including over 5,000 trees native to Newfoundland. The major memorial is the Caribou Monument, which stands more or less on the British front line. This massive bronze statue faces toward the direction of the advance by the Newfoundlanders on July 1, 1916. The caribou’s mouth is open, and it appears to be calling out to the fallen, calling them back home. The Caribou Monument is one of seven such memorials in France, Belgium, Turkey, and Newfoundland and Labrador, which mark major moments in the Royal Newfoundland Regiment’s participation in the First World War.

The caribou statue stands at the top of a massive mound. At the base of the mound is a wall with three bronze plaques. These have the names of the 823 fallen soldiers, sailors and merchant seamen who died in the war without a known resting place. The youngest of these was 14 years old at the time of his death, while the oldest was 60. These plaques, which are original to the site, have survived a second world war and several weather events. During the Second World War, in fact, the only element from the memorial park that did not survive was the bronze lions next to the 51st Highland Division monument near the rear of the park.

Caribou monument on rocky hill, covered with fog.

Beaumont-Hamel Caribou Monument, around December 2022. Image courtesy of the author, Ethan M. Coudenys.

Today, the Beaumont-Hamel Newfoundland Memorial Park is one of the most well-preserved and moving memorials to the sacrifices made during the First World War. With Canadian students providing free guided tours, and the atmosphere of the park itself, it truly demonstrates the tragedy of the Battle of Beaumont-Hamel and the unfathomable losses suffered by the Royal Newfoundland Regiment.

Additional resources

Ethan M. Coudenys is a Genealogy Consultant at Library and Archives Canada, and a former student guide at the Beaumont-Hamel Newfoundland Memorial.

Inuit soldiers of the First World War: Lance Corporal John Shiwak

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On the left of the graphic, Tatânga Mânî [Chief Walking Buffalo] [George McLean] in traditional regalia on horse. In the middle, Iggi and girl engaging in a “kunik”, a traditional greeting in Inuit culture. On the right, Maxime Marion, a Métis guide stands holding a rifle. In the background, there is a map of Upper and Lower Canada, and text from the Red River Settlement collection.

This article contains historical language and content that may be considered offensive, such as language used to refer to racial, ethnic and cultural groups. Please see our historical language advisory for more information.

By Heather Campbell

A black and white photograph of a young Inuk man in a military uniform staring towards the camera.

Lance Corporal John Shiwak, First Royal Newfoundland Regiment, c. 1915. Courtesy of Veteran’s Affairs Canada.

As we remember the sacrifices of the soldiers who fought in the First and Second World Wars, many of us are aware of the First Nations and Métis soldiers who fought for our country. But only a few of us may know about the Inuit soldiers who also fought alongside Indigenous and non-Indigenous alike. My great-great-uncle, Lance Corporal John Shiwak, was one of those men. Due to his skills as a hunter, he became a sniper—“one of the best in the British Army,” according to a fellow officer.

My uncle hailed from Nunatsiavut, the Inuit region in northern and central Labrador, which was part of the British Dominion of Newfoundland in 1914. When the call came for Newfoundland men to enlist, it also made its way up the north coast of Labrador to the Inuit men of these settlements. Inuit culture was, and still is, largely a non-confrontational culture. Many of these young Inuit men were encouraged to enlist by people in positions of authority, such as Dr. Harry Paddon, a physician for the International Grenfell Association. Regardless of their motivations, approximately fifteen Inuit men enlisted and set sail for England in the summer of 1915.

A black and white photograph of two Inuit women and an Inuit child standing beside a wooden house.

Hopedale, Newfoundland and Labrador, 1913. Credit: Edith S. Watson. (e010791418)

What a culture shock it must have been for these men who, like my uncle, were all from tiny, isolated communities of a few hundred people at most. In addition to the size, hustle and bustle of European towns and cities, the worldview was very different. Although Inuit hunt for survival, we respect each life we take and are taught from a young age to not cause an animal pain or distress. When we take a shot, we want to be certain it is precise and effective. Especially during the early 20th century, when the cost and scarcity of ammunition meant that every bullet had to count. Sometimes that meant going home empty handed.

I imagine those Inuit soldiers felt exactly the same way when they discharged their firearms in war. It must have been a huge adjustment for them to fire in haste, knowing they may have wounded someone. However, they knew that the men on the other side of the trenches had to be stopped for others to live, just as animals in Labrador had to die for their families to live. I imagine it was the only way to reconcile themselves with the horrors of war.

A black and white photograph of trees and white houses with black roofs. In the background, there is a boat on the water.

Hudson’s Bay Company Buildings, Rigolet, Labrador, September 1926. Photo Credit: L.T. Burwash. (a099501)

The story of my great-great-uncle Lance Corporal John Shiwak is unique because in addition to his traditional activities as a hunter, trapper and fisherman, he was also a writer, poet and artist. He wrote many letters from the front lines to his friend Lacey Amy, a journalist and author from Ontario. Mr. Amy wrote the article “An Eskimo Patriot” in the July 1918 issue of The Canadian Magazine, telling of their friendship and some of Uncle John’s feelings during the war.

The duration of the war was wearing on him. He had no close friends, none to keep warm the link with his distant home. In September he lamented: “I have no letters from home since July. There will be no more now till the ice breaks”. And in his last he longed again for the old hunting days. Labrador, that had never satisfied his ambitions, looked warm and friendly to him now… That was in mid-November. A month later an official envelope came to me. Inside was my last letter. On its face was the soulless stamp. “Deceased”.

Every year on Remembrance Day, our family would talk about Uncle John with a quiet reverence, remembering the deep grief experienced when he did not return home. I have yet to meet a Labradorian living elsewhere who does not long to return to Labrador. The connection that we have to the land is difficult to express. We see firsthand how the land provides us with everything that we need to survive. Many generations of history are embedded in not only the community, but also each fishing spot, trapline, woodcutting path, hunting ground and berry-picking spot. This creates a special bond between people and the land. To be away from Labrador is to be disconnected from a piece of ourselves.

When I first visited the Canadian War Museum, I was drawn to the recreation of a First World War trench. Visitors can walk through it and put themselves in the shoes of soldiers on the front lines. As I slowly made my way through the trench, it affected me deeply. Tears streamed down my face as I imagined Uncle John huddled in the mud, writing in his journal or sketching images of the land and animals, longing for the peace and solitude of his ancestral home. A home that he would never see again.

A black and white photograph of a cemetery behind a fence and small leafless trees near Cambrai, France. There is a house and a farm in the background.

Raillencourt British Cemetery near Cambrai. Shiwak was not buried in this cemetery, but was equally far from home. (a004409-v8)

During the battle of Cambrai on November 20, 1917, an exploding shell killed Uncle John and six other soldiers. Eighty-eight years later, in 2005, my cousin, Jason Sikoak (formerly written as Shiwak), took part in the Aboriginal Spiritual Journey. In this journey, a group of Indigenous people travelled to Europe to honour Indigenous soldiers. Jason told me that during this journey, Uncle John’s spirit visited him in a dream. We hope that he followed Jason back to the shores of Rigolet and that he is at peace.

A black and white photograph of ships in body of water. There are trees in the foreground of the photo.

A point of land seen from a distance with Hudson’s Bay Company buildings along the shoreline and boats anchored in the cove. Rigolet, c.1930. Photo credit: Fred. C. Sears. (e010771588)

This blog is part of a series related to the Indigenous Documentary Heritage Initiatives. Learn how Library and Archives Canada (LAC) increases access to First Nations, Inuit and Métis Nation collections and supports communities in the preservation of Indigenous language recordings.

Heather Campbell is an archivist in the Public Services Branch at Library and Archives Canada.