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Name: Enoch Saunders Studley Service Number: 223232 Rank: Private Battalion: 85th Battalion Place of Birth: South Ohio, Yarmouth Co., N Date of Birth: June 20, 1897 Date of Enlistment: October 28, 1915 Place of Enlistment: Halifax, NS Age at enlistment: 18 Height: 5 feet, 7 inches Complexion: Medium Eyes: Grey Hair: Dark Brown Trade: Farmer Marital Status: Single Religion: Baptist Next of Kin: Edith Studley (Mother) South Ohio, Yarmouth Co., NS Date of Death: February 5, 1916 Age at Death: 18 Cemetery/Memorial: South Ohio (Hillside) Cemetery, NS Reference: Family Plot, South Side Commemorated on Page 169 of the First World War Book of Remembrance Displayed in the Memorial Chamber of the Peace Tower in Ottawa on April 17 Enoch Saunders Studley was the son of Walter D. and Edith R. Studley, of South Ohio, NS. He enlisted in Halifax with the 85th Battalion. Repeated colds led to fatal pneumonia with accompanying pleurisy and after five weeks of illness, Private Studley died on February 5, 1916 in the Military Station Hospital, Halifax. His funeral was held at the United Baptist Church in South Ohio on Wednesday, February 9, 1915. The body had been accompanied from Halifax by Private Percy M. Hatfield, Army Medical Corps. (Percy Hatfield would be wounded at Vimy Ridge.) Private Donald Morine (64th Battalion) also from South Ohio was home on leave and attended the funeral. Donald’s stepmother mother, Mrs. Osborne L. Churchill composed a poem that was read at the service. He was buried in the Studley family plot, in the South Ohio Cemetery.
Enoch Saunders Studley
Our Soldier Boy  They have brought him home, our soldier boy, But his coming back has brought no joy; For his lips are cold and his heart is still, And they have made for him a grave on the hill. Our darling soldier boy.  His country’s call came loud and long, His heart was brave and his courage strong; So he marched him forth in his gladsome youth, In the cause of freedom and love and truth. To be a soldier boy.  We saw in vision the happy day, When our bitterest foes would be swept away; So he grasped his sword with a steady hand, To fight for his home and his native land. Like a British soldier boy.  But his feet left not his dear home land, Ere the grim foe, Death, was close at hand; And he set his seal on the fair youth brow. He sleeps ‘neath his country’s banner now. Our brave true soldier boy.  O God! How long in Grief we cry, Shall our hearts be torn while loved ones die! Great God, have pity on souls today, That break and mourn and weep and pray, For their distant soldier boy.  O Hasten, Lord, thy day of peace, When strife shall end and tumults cease; Keep we within they sheltered hand, Until we meet in Heaven’s fair land. Our happy soldier boy.
Photo: Wartime Heritage (August 2014)