I suppose I shouldn’t have been so surprised that an off-the-cuff reference to looking up an ancestor’s military record spurred such a gaggle after my undergraduate tutorial last week. I’d repeated an observation that I’d read on H-Canada a few years ago about being prepared to learn about an ancestor’s sexual misadventures (our class was on sex education). The reaction was astounding – they wanted to learn about their family history, or that of a partner, or friend, or expressed general genealogical interest.

Simply pointing them to Library and Archives Canada website might not be enough, however. A few students had already been to the website, actually, but didn’t find it terribly intuitive or straight forward. This year, I’ve been captivated with helping students navigate the technological options available to them (Zotero, DeeperWeb, WorldCat, Google Scholar/Books, etc.), and have realized that we need to think more about how we teach this. In one of my classes, I adapted Bill Turkel’s work in quickly going digital into a screen-by-screen discussion. This post provides a screen-by-screen dissection of how you can find military records from the First World War at Library and Archives Canada.

And here’s a call for action: If you’re regularly in Ottawa and want to help people access their records, let me know at ianmilli@yorku.ca or in the comments below. Similarly, if you might want some on-site help, let us know as well. Maybe we can link a few people up!

STEP ONE: Background research. Before you can fruitfully find an ancestor on the web, you’ll need to know the surname and given name.

STEP TWO: Navigate to http://www.collectionscanada.gc.ca/databases/cef/index-e.html, and click on ‘Search.’ You’ll see the screen below. Type in the information that you know. If you’re unsure about spelling, you can always add a ‘wild-card’ character – *. This can stand in for anything else.

In this example, I’m going to look up ‘Milligan.’ Here comes the tricky part. In my case, let’s say that I can’t recall if the name is either ‘Arthur,’ ‘Albert,’ or ‘Alfred.’ [Disclosure: this is actually true - it's been a while since I chatted about family history, and I'm confident it's one of the three.] I also know that my family came from Montreal, Quebec, and would have recently immigrated from the United Kingdom.

Attestation paper of 'Albert Milligan': Could this be my ancestor?

You’ll see the information available before, as well as two links: ‘Front of Form,’ and ‘Back of Form.’ This is the treasure trove now at your fingertips. Click on ‘front of form’ and a PDF will load.

The front of the form - look at all this personal information!

The back of the form - look at all this personal information!

Here we can learn about his height, chest expansion, complexion, eyes, hair, religious denomination, and any ‘distinctive marks’ on the person’s body. So here we see that this Milligan was certified healthy in 1914 and went off to join the Expeditionary Forces.

In this case, this was not my ancestor. I know that he wasn’t born in Montreal, but emigrated there. So back to the searches I go, through the list, before realizing that ‘Alfred Milligan’ meets my criteria. Perfect.

STEP FOUR: I FOUND HIM!!!! Now what?

So here we are. We have our person. In this case, we know that it’s Milligan, Alfred. Regimental number 418531, and we have his date of birth and this rather cryptic reference. But what if we want more than the attestation paper?

Sitting in Ottawa is a complete service record, most between 25 and 75 pages in length, that will describe his military career. What unit did he join? Where did he train? Did he go to France? Where did he see any possible fighting? Were there any disciplinary infractions? Health problems? Did he die? How? Was he wounded? What happened?

So how do we get that document? First, write down that reference!!! In this case, write everything down. So for this case:

MILLIGAN, ALFRED

Regimental Number: 418531

Reference: RG 150, Accession 1992-93/166, Box 6204-62

You now have three options:

1. Go to Ottawa in person – we’ll discuss that in Step Five.
2. Find somebody to research on your behalf. You have several options here. You can comment at this post and maybe we’ll be able to make a match for you. Alternatively, LAC provides a list of ‘freelance researchers‘ that will research on your behalf.
3. Contact LAC and get them to reproduce the documents for you. Consult this webpage here. For seniors (65+) and students (with valid identification), the cost is 30 cents a page. For adults it is 40 cents a page. So the pre-tax/pre-mail cost would be between $10 – $30 on average.

So I hope that’s been a help. Again, I’d love to hear your comments about your experiences!

Addendum on Military Records in the States: I’ve been told that the National Archives in the United States has streamlined their process for a flat fee of $25 for pre-First World War records. As Tom Peace tells me, he was able to look up a main historical actor during the American Revolution. Check out their approach here.

“British immigrant children from Dr. Bernardo’s Homes at landing stage, Saint John, N.B.”, n.d., photo by Isaac Erb, Library and Archives Canada, MIKAN no. 3193366. Copy of an official work published by the Government of Canada, not produced in affiliation with, or with the endorsement of the Government of Canada

The Government of Canada has declared 2010 to be the Year of the British Home Child.  Earlier this month, Canada Post released a commemorative stamp to honour this recognition.

The stamp, designed by Debbie Adams of Adams+Associates Design Consultants, contains three images: the SS Sardinian, on which home children migrated from Britain to Canada; a photograph of a home child engaged in farm labour; a portrait of a newly-arrived boy passing through Halifax en route to Hamilton.  The young boy, looking directly at the camera and whose image is enclosed by a metal frame, emerges as the main focus of the stamp.  Such a visual device is intentional, as Adams notes that the frame represents the “relationships” home children developed in Canada: “It shows that someone cared enough about this child to preserve and display his image.”

Beginning in the 1860s and continuing well into the twentieth century, at least 80 000 poor and orphaned British children arrived in Canada at the request of the Federal Government.  Thousands more migrated to other commonwealth countries, such as Australia and New Zealand. British churches and charities directed this exodus as one means to alleviate the “poor problem” in Britain’s growing industrial cities.  A majority of these young Canadian immigrants ended up on farms, where they often laboured long hours under grueling conditions.  Other home children fulfilled the growing Canadian middle class’s desire for domestic servants, while the lucky few became accepted as adopted children. The most unfortunate children endured physical and mental abuse.

In late 2009, Phil McColeman, Conservative MP for Brant whose uncle was a home child, successfully pushed through a private members’ motion that declared 2010 Year of the British Home Child. The motion unanimously passed in the House of Commons.

Yet some home-child descendants are not satisfied by the declaration.  Rather, they are pressuring Ottawa to provide money to enable the approximately four million descendants of home children to connect with long-lost family across the globe.  John Willoughby, a Prince Edward Islander with British home-child lineage who leads the Canadian Centre for Home Children, is spearheading the movement.  The British and Australian governments have issued formal apologies for the abuses home children faced; indeed, Britain has promised to provide millions of dollars to assist descendants in their genealogical searches.

In 1999, the Historic Sites and Monuments Board of Canada erected this commemorative plaque outside a former receiving home for British home children in Stratford, Ontario. Photo by Alan L. Brown

The Government of Canada, in contrast, has neither issued a formal apology nor offered money to descendants.  Previous posts on ActiveHistory.ca have noted the benefits and problems of official government apologies. Strong networks of descendants of British home children have partnerships with archives like Library and Archives Canada (LAC) and use censes, immigration records, and other archival holdings to trace their lineages in the hopes of reuniting with lost family.  Home-child descendants attended an invitation-only event at LAC on September 9^th, where a new film on the experiences of British home children was unveiled. Some hope the 2010 declaration and commemorative stamp will signal a beginning of restitution.

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“What does a queer, sadomasochistic philosopher have to do with the study of Canada’s past?” This is the question I ask students at the beginning of my first-year survey course on Canadian history. Over the years, colleagues have suggested that first-year undergrads aren’t ready for Foucault. But experience tells me that not only are many of Foucault’s ideas readily translatable in the classroom, but that many first-year students, not always convinced that the study of Canadian history might have some connection to their present, eagerly grasp onto them. This past week was a case in point.

My lecture was on the First World War, and we used Foucault’s ideas about memory and counter-memory. We began by looking at dominant or officials meanings – the familiar story of the war as the moment of Canada’s maturation into nationhood, a narrative constructed by military officers and not a few Canadian historians. We then looked at different groups – ordinary soldiers, women, First Nations, disaffected veterans, black Canadians, leftists – whose memories of the War most often ran counter to official meanings. We then moved on to trace the historical process – through poetry, school textbooks, the Vimy Ridge memorial, local monuments – by which the First World War took on its nationalist meanings. We were also able to use Foucault, always attuned to questions of power, to look at how dominant and counter-memories exist in unequal relation.

I concluded the lecture with the recent death of Jack Babcock, Canada’s last First World War veteran, and the struggle over his wartime memory. The federal government wanted to give Babcock a state funeral, something he refused. For Babcock, the lesson of the war that failed to end all wars, one he explained in an interview with Veterans Affairs Canada, is not easily assimilated with the heroic myth of Canada as a nation born of fire: “I hope countries think long and hard before engaging in war, as many people get killed … What a waste.”

I also use Foucault’s notion of “the historical present” in the course, and the lecture on the First World War provided an unexpected opportunity to put it into action. Several weeks before the lecture, the Globe and Mail reported that Library and Archives Canada (LAC) plans to cut its popular program, “Lest We Forget,” a series of on-site workshops in which students do primary historical research on the First World War. Several students in the course had participated in the “Lest We Forget” program, and many others were quick to detect the hypocrisy of a federal government wishing to bask in the reflected glory of a state funeral at the same time that its archives is cutting an award-winning program designed precisely to foster the vital link between young people and Canadian history. Students agreed, something should be done. But what?

Foucault’s first impulse would likely have been to organize a street-level demonstration. With LAC in Ottawa and our class in Kingston, Ontario, a physical protest wasn’t a possibility. Foucault’s next move would likely have been to draft a petition. (Petitions have more cultural significance and political import in France than we are perhaps accustomed to here; in Paris one can take an entire university course on Foucault and the art of the petition.) And so last week we started our own save the “Lest We Forget” program petition. Students are also writing letters to MPs, their hometown newspapers, starting up a Facebook page, and much else.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find it odd to be participating in a campaign about the First World War. I also teach a course on the history of sexuality in Canada, and it feels mighty strange not to be responding to Jason Kenney’s attempts to impose his personal morality on the rest of us by excising references to queer history in the Canadian citizenship study guide. But, for now, I’ll go where students take me. In my lecture on the First World War, I offered my interpretation, one that deconstructs nationalist myth-making and accentuates counter-memories. Do all the students in the course accept or agree with my take on it? No, and neither should they. But where we find common ground is knowing that in order to have differences of interpretation, we must first have access to the historical documents.

The text of the petition avoids appeals to nationalism or patriotism, focussing instead on preserving public access to archival programs and on the uniqueness of hands-on primary historical research. That many of the comments left by people signing the petition emphasize patriotism and national sacrifice is neither surprising nor something I can control. I can hear my students now: “Sir, that’s why they call it democracy.” Perhaps so, but it also furnishes me with another “teachable moment” about how some historical memories and meanings have more cultural sway than others.

In the end, I invoke Foucault and the historical present to offer students an approach to history that is ultimately about more than whatever specific moment in the past we happen to be considering. It’s a vision of history not as dead and done, but as an active process of conflicting interpretation and political contestation in which students can intervene. As I watch students get excited over having their very first letter to the editor published or being interviewed by the local newspaper, I, too, see new possibilities in harnessing the power of the historical present.

Steven Maynard is a social historian who teaches in the Department of History at Queen’s University.

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