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A photo to commemorate one of their many romantic outings. It was snapped on May 27th, 1914. At the time, Veronica was nineteen, and Oliver was twenty-two. 

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My great-grandparents. She was young, but smart and ambitious. Oliver was drawn in immediately. He was sweet and charming, and she was smitten. Soon, they were a couple, and even sooner, they became husband and wife.

All too soon, it would become a bittersweet memory. The assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand became the spark. World War had began. Oliver insisted he join the army, to protect what had become so important to the both of them.

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A flattering photo of Clara Smith. It was photographed on March 30th, 1927, inside her father's residence. She was seventeen at the time of this shot. 

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Clara Smith. FUTURE Hatford. The Roaring Twenties.

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Clara Smith. FUTURE Hatford. The Roaring Twenties.

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My great-grandmother- a fearsome woman who was very materialistic. Considered "rebellious" by the more modest adults around her, Clara wears revealing dresses and scandalous stockings. At night, she spends her time at speakeasies, putting on dazzling performances. She was a cunning woman, snide and assertive- especially in her adamance that women should have the right to vote.

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In 1929, the Stock Mark completely crashed. Sending St. Wall into a panicking frenzy. A photograph, taken on the day of, October 28th, captures the enormous crowds traversing through town. 

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Following the great boom was the great crash. My great great grandparents were not physically at St. Wall- but even they felt the plummet as the world fell into an economic depression. Veronica didn't invest a penny in the Stock Market, but Oliver lost his life savings after the crash. In terms of income, the Hatfords were barely holding on.

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Holding hands with their three year old son, Michael (my grandfather), William Hatford and Clara Hatford gaze at the wreckage of of their home. The aftermath of an air raid. When the family had finally come out from underground, all that remained was the rubble and debris and the smell of smoke. 

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William and Clara Hatford stand outside what remains of their town. Clara managed to salvage some of their most valuables prior to the evacuation to shelter. Said shelter, were the platforms underground that formed the railway tunnel.

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Photograph of the Canadian Corps. It was taken prior to the battle Vimy Ridge, on April 5th, 1917. Oliver Hatford was twenty two at the time. He was part of the four Canadian divisions.

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My great great grandfather, Oliver Hatford, joined the Canadian Corps to serve in the battle of Vimy Ridge. His wife, my great great grandmother, Veronica Hatford, didn't approve. There was a heated argument, but in the end, Oliver had joined the fight. He would later be exposed to chlorine gas, but by some miracle, survive and return victorious. The success of Vimy Ridge would become a national pride. It was the first time Canada had proved itself to be capable of leading in war.

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Diary entries containing messy handwriting and smudged ink. Later, these entries would become crucial evidence...

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February 26th, 1930
Oliver has begun drinking. He tells me it’s to relieve tension after a long day of scouring for a job. He hasn’t been given one, despite his service in the army. There’s a defeated slump in his shoulders where there wasn’t before. Most nights, when he’s too drunk to crawl into bed with me, I hear his muffled cries from the living room. He keeps apologizing. Over and over, saying, 'I’m sorry'. It’s horrible. I’ve begun to tutor overtime, in exchange for extra food. It’s exhausting, and I can’t bring myself to care for my family after coming home so late. I snap at William more often that I mean to. But I could never blame Oliver for what happened.

March 17th, 1930

He’s becoming more and more erratic. stealing money for alcohol. when I try to stop him, or take it back, he gets violent with me. At this rate, all our funds will be gone, and we won’t have money for food, or anything to trade for.

My parents cannot know. I can’t place this burden on them, old as they are. I couldn’t take the humiliation.

March 29th, 1930

We have little money for funds. William doesn’t respond much anymore. Doesn’t fight when Oliver pulls him by the hair, throws him to the ground. I can’t protect him. I, too, quiver in the face of his drunken rage. It’s because of my son that I can’t walk away. Somewhere, too, perhaps I believe that Oliver will put the bottle down. And we can return to those peaceful days where it was just the two of us.

I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

[There is no date written on the last entry.]

I have packed everything I need.

Tonight.

I am leaving tonight. To my parents.

[End of entries. Veronica never quite arrived.]

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A letter that was never received, and never sent. 

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April 22th, 1915
Ypres

My Dearest Veronica.

I am writing to you to bid my final farewell. All of my comrades have fallen in battle. One after another, they fell ill to a poisonous cloud we could not have foreseen. We've been infected. It will not be long before I succumb as well, trapped here. You may never receive this letter. But if by The Lord’s good mercy it makes its way to your hands, you must know. I pray not for survival, nor a bloody victory. I pray fervently for your good fortune, your happiness, safety, and forgiveness. You never understood why I had to join the army. The battlefield is not meant for women. Here, we are brothers, soldiers. Their undying spirit, unity, sacrifice- remind me of you. Fierce and courageous, they cannot be tamed, no matter the storm. So I offer you my sincerest apologies. For I fear I cannot come to regret protecting this very land that led me to you, to our endless bouts of joy and wonderful nights. The memories lit a fire in me, pulled me back from the brink of death countless times.

My only regret is that I will not be with you to name our son. For that, I deeply apologize. But with what I’ve heard from your students, you will raise our lovely boy into a fine man, and you will do so without needing any assistance of mine.

Yours forever, even in death,
Oliver

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Photograph of Veronica Hatford. It was taken on December 21st, 1914. Her occupation, a teacher, and in her spare time, a tutor for her willing students. At the time, Veronica was twenty years old. She continued with her teachings, months after the war was announced. 

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My great-great grandmother was a sophisticated, elegant woman. She didn't have many students- women weren't regarded as intelligent. But the ones she had- she taught them well. All her knowledge came from her father, and everything she knew, she passed to her pupils. But her greatest wish- was to discover great lengths, and to cross greater lengths to become even greater.

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Photo of Veronica's best students from her class. They were ecstatic to hear that she and her husband were expecting a child soon...

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My great-grandfather, William Hatford. He snuck onto many trains in the 1930s, traveling the world to find work and rarely writing to his grandparents (my great-great-great grandparents). He worked excruciating hours for little pay. During this time he was eighteen years old. 

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William didn't resent his grandparents. They took him in after the loss of his mother and father. Though he didn't particularly care, either. So, in spite of the law, he hides on a plethora of trains, traveling across the country, looking for odd jobs, food, and a worthy purpose in his dull life. He was rail hopping from depression camp to depression camp, but the conditions were always the same- infuriating labor without reward. At one such camp, William found himself listening to an Arthur "Slim" Evans, found himself in the middle of a protest to push for better working conditions.

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June 6th, 1944. The Allied troops had managed to keep their plans a secret. They launched a surprise invasion on Normandy, with the intent to secure the beaches. William was on one of the landing crafts. 

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Good News, Progress in Europe : Invasion of Normandy. 1944

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Good News, Progress in Europe : Invasion of Normandy. 1944

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For once in his mangy life, he'd struck gold. William happened to be cooped in the very back of the landing craft. Before the troops advanced onto the beaches, German soldiers were already shooting into the boats. When they finally touched the shore, the landing ramp was let down only to let in an onslaught of bullets. Machinery ripped through those in the front, but William was safely tucked in the back. After what seemed like an eternity, after the sounds had died out, William sprinted down the ramp, past the decimated corpses of his comrades. He reunited with some soldiers who found cover. Together, they fought their way up the shore and secured the beachhead.

Clara had never been religious, but when the radio had exclaimed that the Allies had successfully liberated the beaches of Normandy, she collapsed to the floor and chanted for his life until she lost her voice, then she prayed until it became her only thought. Michael, now seven years old, came to kneel beside his mother, and followed suit. The next morning, Clara would barely catch the new development- the invasion was a success, and the Allies secured Normandy. With aching bones, she prayed for the war to end soon.

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One of William's letters he and Clara exchanged. It's dated June 14th but doesn't have the date written down. The contents miffed Clara quite so. He could pretend all he liked, but she knew him as the boy from back then- he didn't want to remember the true horrors he'd survived. 

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June 14th 1945

[Undisclosed]

Dear, my beloved Clara

I am writing to you- from the disgusting, vile, rat-ridden trenches. Last night, those parasites took my last can of soup that I was saving for myself. They even ate through my last pair of dry socks. I’m relieved you aren’t here. If only you knew, the horrors of war. These are the fattest, most ugly, outrageous mice I have ever seen. My respect for you grows by the day. How do you get rid of these?

I imagine you will hear over the radio before this letter will make it back to you. In Normandy, in one of the landing crafts, it was a stroke of luck that I was to be shuffled into the back. We finally hit the beach. The people in front of me flopped down like fish! They dived headfirst into their own sea of blood. Hilarious.

Right, how are you? How is my son? I imagine you’ve been quite alright. Never seemed to need my help anyway. Ensure that Michael doesn’t grow up a slob- it wouldn’t be in my fancy to have a slacker as a son. He should take after his father.

I’ll be back for you to dote on soon enough.

William

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May 8th, 19945. It was a very special day. The streets of London were overcrowded like never before- the people were overcome with 

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Clara hears the news over the radio- Nazi Germany surrendered to the Allies on May 8th, 1945. Her chest blossomed with relief, but the feeling turned cold, quickly replaced by fear. Japan hadn't surrendered yet. If William was sent to fight, what could she do? He'd always been capable of creating miracles, surviving the unthinkable, but...

A letter came in the mail. William was discharged from the army. He was coming home! Alive! The paper was wet with her tears. She sobbed with relief and yanked her son around the room in pure, unadulterated, happiness.

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A photograph of post-war London in 1946. The city had healed from the Blitz over time. It had been the site of many victory parades in the past year after the end of the war in Europe. People are finally readjusting to a life without world conflict. 

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William and Clara reunite. It's the most emotional they've ever been. Must be the atmosphere. Nothing else mattered. They were together again. They briefly discuss the political situation... where communists had taken over Eastern Europe. They were well off enough, with Clara's father's support. Did it matter? They embraced Michael in a fierce hug.

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It was a flimsy plan created by the dimming hope of young men and even younger men. Early April, 1935, it was decided that camp workers from depression camps were to ride the trains to Ottawa. And book a meeting. With Sir Honourable Bennett himself. 

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A near one thousand homeless, unemployed men, rode the trains to Ottawa to push for better working conditions, and better wages. Arthur "Slim" Evans would snag a meeting with Bennett himself. Despite the harsh, dehumanizing treatment from local governments, holding them captive like hostages, Evans truly believed he could argue a better life. What was before a measly protest meant to help the men he vowed to lead, became a bloody mess, then, an enormous movement that was adamant in raising a fight for all worker rights.

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Lies, Ben, and Alan MacEachern. 2016. “The Regina Riot.” Canada's History. https://www.canadashistory.ca/explore/peace-conflict/the-regina-riot.

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“London In The Second World War.” n.d. Imperial War Museums. Accessed January 10, 2025. https://www.iwm.org.uk/history/london-in-the-second-world-war.

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“On to Ottawa Trek and Regina Riot.” 2021. The Canadian Encyclopedia. https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/on-to-ottawa-trek.

https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/on-to-ottawa-trek on to ottawa

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“1918) The Battle of Vimy Ridge.” 2024. Veterans Affairs Canada. https://www.veterans.gc.ca/en/remembrance/wars-and-conflicts/first-world-war/battle-of-vimy-ridge.

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“The Blitz | World War II, History, & Facts.” 2024. Britannica. https://www.britannica.com/event/the-Blitz.

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Cunningham, John M., and Gunther Schuller. 2024. “Roaring Twenties | Definition, Music, History, & Facts.” Britannica. https://www.britannica.com/topic/Roaring-Twenties.