This message came through from George Esmond Haggie when I first tried to write about his life. I wanted to paint a picture of who he was, because I felt as though I knew him. I didn’t know why, but I wanted to see his face and find some of his war records. It was important to me for some reason.
“When you share your first name with your father, I guess it is no surprise that you end up going by your middle name. You’re a young, good looking man, born in 1890 to a business minded family that strikes its luck on the stock market, which came into existence in 1801. Imagine feeling the confidence of security and stability and a family environment that is supportive of you. Yours is a relaxed happy father who has retired young and has his life ahead of him to fill with pleasure and joy and the good things of life.
It is a time of peace, the Boer War is over. King Edward has ushered in a time of laughter and frivolity, lifting the veil of mourning that clung to his late mother since the time of her husband’s death. It’s as if the world has taken a deep sigh and a breath of fresh air has reached your lungs.
It's a Golden time to be alive in the British Empire with ease, security and comfort. The industrial wealthy are forging their way with purchases of castles and residences once reserved only for those with the right aristocratic heritage.
You’ve made it through the school years, you’ve done well and now you’re off to Oxford University. You study all your favourite subjects and want to be a solicitor so that you can not only use your brain, but set yourself up for “the good life”.
You sign up to the Training Corps because it’s a time of peace, there’s no real threat of war, and the guy from the Corps who did the on campus talk kinda hypnotised everyone into believing the army wants officers with brains, and that it’s your national obligation right?
Besides, training consisted of only short courses, attending parades and voluntary examinations, and were not to interfere with university sport or studies. In addition if you took the examinations this entitled you to enlist in the “Special Reserve of Officers” or the “Territorial Force”. The territorial force was a part time volunteer commitment. Part time. You could still continue with your career in law. This was just another string to your bow, like the man said, and it was a good strategy incase of war, because it meant potentially better conditions as a soldier?
And then in 1913 you graduated and were signed on with a firm in Oxford. What a lark. But then 1914 changed everything. It all started going pear shape when your mamma died. She was only 49. She was only 49!! She never even got to meet your future bride. Well there hadn’t been enough time for a “future bride” yet.
And then the war began. Things began to change. You were an educated lad, a career man with no real desire to join the war effort, despite the part time volunteer membership of the Territorial force of the Green Howards.
War is dirty, and scary and gets you killed. You were under no illusion that anyone was special, you were just a number, a toy soldier to be expended if needed. Life was just beginning now for you and you wanted to experience all of the fineries that it brought with it. But then the government brought in conscription in 1916 and well you were buggered. You put on a brave face and were transferred in March 1916 from the to the 9th regiment (service) of the Princess of Wales’s Own Yorkshire Regiment. The regiment had been in France since 1915 as part of 69th Brigade, in the 23rd Division.
It was nothing like what you had trained for. You spend your life knee deep in water and mud and filth. You Are permanently cold, and in the beginning you have to hold yourself back from retching from fear and the smell of all the bodies. Sure there is a rotation system, some brief days of respite, but it was hardly enough to recover and heal from the shell shock let alone the continuously weeping wounds and the foot rot.
You try your best to keep in touch with the family at home, god knows they are worrying. So you write one last letter before you head back out to the trenches.
And then, it is all over. The shell to the back of the head at Black Watch Corner and you fall face down into the mud. Like you said, it would be better if it was an instant death, but so many fall at the same time and you drift in and out of consciousness and then all of a sudden you are out of your body looking down upon yourself incredulously, willing yourself to get up. But you can’t hear yourself, and nobody can hear you screaming for help. You try in vain to attract attention to your broken body, but it is too late. In the muddy sea of bodies, you are just another broken toy soldier.
And there you remain, and in time the mud covers you. There is no grave for you. You drift in a space void of everything knowing nothing except the new horror of being in no man's land. One hundred and four years pass and one day, you see a light, as though someone was looking for you, calling out your name. And they brought the Angels with them, and then all of it faded into the background and George Esmond Haggie finally made it to the light.”
Channeled as a direct written transmission by Katische Dionne Haberfield.
George was featured as a guest on The Infinite Life: Consciousness Raising, Spiritual Transformation Podcast, where he was brought through from the afterlife to validate Katische's ghost rescue mediumship skills, and tell us about his experience of being a "ghost" and a soldier in World War 1.
Find out more about George including pictures of his posthumous medals, visit this site: https://www.cwgc.org/stories/stories/private-george-esmond-haggie-235467-a-coy-9th-bn-yorkshire-regiment/
Private George Esmond Haggie 235467, A Coy. 9th Bn., Yorkshire Regiment