Edward Pilon, was the son of Isidore Pilon and Eulalie Poudret
dit Lavigne. He was born and raised at Ste-Anne-de-Bellevue, a town
situated on the shores of the St.Lawrence River on the island of Montréal.
He was the second to last born of 10 children but only 1 of 5 who lived
beyond the age of 20 years (3 died within less and 2 years of birth while
a fourth died at age 15). His civilian employment was as a book-keeper.
Upon joining the Canadian Expeditionary Force in September of 1914, he
was assigned the serial number 1467 and obviously was among some of the
first to step forward. Edward was part of the First Contingent of
Canadian soldiers to cross the Atlantic in one of the largest single conveys
ever and a member of the First Canadian Division to land in France in the
spring of 1915.
What were the expectations of this 31 years old as he travelled to Valcartier,
north of Québec City to become a soldier and to go to war in Europe,
in the land of his ancestors? Surely there was a sense of adventure.
Surely there was a desire for a good time. In fact, his file contains
a clear indication that Edward liked, perhaps a bit too much, the liquid
hospitality of England and Belgium. He was charged on several occasions
with drinking infractions. How serious were these infractions is
difficult to say. In two instances, Edward was court martialed and
the transcripts are reproduced here. You be the judge. In some
ways, one get the feeling that Edward was likely no different from many
of his contemporaries with the single exception of timing. While
these documents allow us to see a lighthearted side of Edward, it also
appears that he just didn't seem to known when to keep quiet!
One observation that comes from a reading of Edward's unjustly brief
personnel file is that while in England he suffered from influenza and
pneumonia, deseases which were killing people both in Europe and in North
America. More importantly, he suffered "shell shock" in June of 1915.
Could it be that from that point on, Edward came to realize that the war
was not what he had hoped it would be, but rather had a inescapable character
all its own? Could these realities have led to his difficulties with
the drink? Might a few days in detention have been perceived as preferable
to a few nights of misery under bombardments that not infrequently included
shells from your own artillery? Questions that cannot be answered,
but that should be pondered.
