Thomas James Edwards

Rank:

Private

Regimental number:

773123

Unit at enlistment:

125th Battalion

Force:

C.E.F.

Volunteered or conscripted:

Volunteered

Survived the war:

Yes

Wounded:

Yes

Cemetery:

Farringdon Cemetery, Brantford, Ontario

Birth country:

Canada

Birth county:

Brant

Birth city:

Brantford, Ontario

Address at enlistment:

15 Foster Street, Brantford, Ontario

Next of kin address:

RR 3 Aldershot, Hamilton, Ontario

Trade or calling:

Machinist

Marital status:

Single

Age at enlistment:

Image gallery:

Letters and documents

BX November 29, 1917

The Greatest Worry of Khaki Clads is ‘Mud’ – Fritz’s Shells Soon become Monotonous, but Mud is Always Worrying – From the Front Line

Private T.J. Edwards writes the following letter to a friend here:

I thought I would have a heart and continue the good work. For your information I would say that beyond Fritz endeavoring to scare us to death, when there is nothing a fellow could relate which would be of any interest to anyone. Frights are so common that a fellow sometimes gets scared of himself, but when it comes to going over the top, well, I am right there and so far have had the pleasure of seeing the show to a successful end. It wouldn’t be so bad if they were to make a puff ball or a cream puff the heaviest missile to throw at one another, but the way things look now, the size of the shells is getting bigger and the dear only knows who is going to stop them.

This is not interesting, of course, for anyone with cold feet, and you should avoid showing this to anyone who you know suffers this way, because we can’t plug the hole forever and the knowledge of this might have a tendency to stop reinforcements coming over.

I suppose you have often wondered how we manage to live long enough to write a letter; especially as in most cases we are only a few yards from the Bosche and so much stuff in the air at one time wrangling from the rifle bullet, not forgetting to mention Fritz’s flying pig and his coal box. But I suppose even Satan looks after his own, hence our successful exits now and again further back. To explain fully the system of working this game would be disastrous for the writer, as Mr. Censor has a say, and if he doesn’t like the tone of our voice the letter is detained and the writer and in scathing terms is informed that he must be a sympathizer with the enemy or he wouldn’t offer such information, especially as mail is liable to be diverted by some means into enemy hands for their perusal. I guess some of the funniest stunts have been pulled off with a view to obtaining information that could be thought out. There is nothing to it. Fritz’s men higher up are wise guys, and it took a long time to get wise to him, but today the British army stands A1 and he’s got to wake up some again and find something else to pull over our eyes, for considering the magnitude of the affair and such a lot of minor things of importance that have to be dealt with, everything runs like clockwork. The most peculiar part is the absolute indifference that is shown for shelling, because I suppose one looks at it in this way.

There is always a possibility of them hitting the other fellow, or not hitting anyone or anything. What does worry us is mud. I must say it gets our goat about right. As every step one takes the foot has to be yanked out, only to do the same thing with the other. There is always lots of work to be done and it is done and done to schedule. Not saying one is tired; that is a thing out of the question. Occasionally a fellow feels that being lined up against a wall would be better than to carry one, but a fellow always has a second thought coming, and he receives fresh courage from somewhere. It doesn’t come up with rations. I suppose it is the nature of us to be bull-headed at times. Practically all my battalion have arrived safely and are doing their bit, and good soldiers they are too; in fact; when history is written if our town isn’t mentioned why there must be something wrong with the writers. Our battalion alone has been mentioned in despatches on different occasions and I’ll guarantee 75 percent are from our town. By this you will be able to know that we are heart-breakers wherever we go, at home or abroad. In civil life it was the girls and now it is the Bosche, and believe me, without any bluff, he doesn’t like us a little bit. Every time we are in the line, no matter how quiet it was before, by the time we get nicely settled it gets like hell with the lid on.

Your old friend,

Pte. T.J. Edwards

BX November 7, 1918

Mrs. Ford, 15 Foster Street, with whom he boarded, has received word from Thomas James Edwards, late of the 125th, that he was in hospital, having been shot through the lungs on September 27. He is doing well, No official word of his wounding has been received here. The information coming from Private Edwards by letter.

BX June 20, 1953

Thomas J. Edwards

The death occurred Friday at Sunnybrook Hospital, Toronto, of Thomas J. Edwards, husband of Eva Davies Edwards, 58 Balfour Street. Mr. Edwards was born in Wales and had been a resident of Brantford since coming to Canada 45 years ago. He was a member of St. John’s Anglican Church for many years. During the war 1914-1918, Mr. Edwards served overseas with the 125th Battalion. He always kept close contact with the unit and had served as President of the 125th Battalion Association. Surviving besides his widow are: one daughter, Mrs. Martin (Mary) Viaene, one grandson, Bobby Viaene, both of Detroit, Mich. Mr. Edwards is resting at Thorpe Brothers; Funeral Home, where the service will be conducted on Monday at 2 p.m. with interment in Farringdon Burial Ground.

BX June 24, 1953

Thomas J. Edwards

Monday afternoon the funeral service for Thomas J. Edwards, husband of Eva Davies Edwards, 58 Balfour Street, was conducted at Thorpe Brothers’ Funeral Home. Rev. C.V. Tomkins, rector of St. Jon’s Anglican Church, officiated. The pallbearers were J.R. Welsh, James Baxter, Lloyd Clark, William Wait, Ernest Franklin and J.M. Quinlan. Interment was in Farringdon Burial Ground.