The youngest, on the far right, lied about his age (17 at the time) to enlist. He became a medic courier, delivering medical supplies by motorcycle to the front. Uncle Murray was shot by a sniper but he was extremely fortunate: the bullet went through the back of his heavy leather jacket and only inflicted superficial injuries to his back.
Lorne, on the far left, was the eldest and fought with the Scottish Highlander Infantry. His baby brother remembers when the Army Chaplain came to deliver a telegram advising the family that he was missing in action and presumed dead.
When Uncle Lorne arrived home he had a hole straight through his left shoulder, he had lost half his left foot and had broken several ribs. Direct hit with shrapnel. He was in a full body cast, a sling on one arm, and a cast on his left foot/leg. After several days’ rest he took my mother and his two youngest brothers for a walk (using crutches) to give my grandmother (his stepmom) a break from the little ones. They walked around the Picture Butte Dam. My grandmother was terrified of water and so never let her children in water. On that fateful day my Uncle Bob, about 8 or 9 years old, fell into the dam. He had never been in anything other than bathwater and would have drown had his severely wounded older brother not thrown aside his crutches and dived in to rescue him.