After ten years of sharing…


What my loyal readers dread the most…?

Reblogging all that I wrote on Nos ancêtres?

Sometimes I will reblog a post like I did the last time.

Our Ancestors has its roots with Nos ancêtres that I started writing on January 28th, 2008. It was about a childhood memory, a recollection of a framed picture in my paternal grandparents’ home.

That’s how I got addicted.

This is post 1238…



Il y a dix ans… Ten years ago…

This was the main reason for my first blog.

I had created it for Le Cyber Journal.

Cyber journal

I was looking for a family’s history. There was this couple, Gédéon Bohémier and Euphébronie Clément. And yet, I was in no way connected to them…

When I had transcribed the rest of the Ste-Anne-des-Plaines 1852 census in December 2007, I saw the name of a teacher. As a former teacher, I was immediately attracted to this one. Her name was Phébronie Clément, according to the enumerator, but I saw many other ways to write her first name, including Euphébronie in parish registers during 1870.

What I do know is that she had married Gideon Bohemian (sic).

I’d like to tell you that they lived happily ever after and had many beautiful children, but destiny wanted otherwise…

Here is the direct link to the couple Léon (Gédéon) Bohémier and Euphébronie Clément in my Ancestry website Les ancêtres de Ste-Anne-des-Plaines if you are one of my members.

While doing this research, I had found that three of their children had died on December 2nd and December 4th, 1870 in Ste-Anne-des-Plaines. They were Léontine, Benjamin and Bruno. The cause of death was not mentioned in the burial certificates. We only see it occasionally.

So I’m taking my chances here and I am asking the question:

Are you aware of what happened to the three children of Gédéon Bohémier and Euphébronie Clément in 1870? Some people have told me about an epidemic, but they were none recorded in 1870. Others have told me about a fire, but it’s only an hypothesis.
Someone even sent me burial documents showing that another child, Henri Bohémier, was also buried on November 28th, 1870.

So we have four children who died in just a week…

You want more…?

Another child, named  Siméon, was baptized on December 9th, 1870 and died in 1878. I haven’t had any information on the cause of his death yet. There is surely someone in Ste-Anne-des-Plaines who would be aware of this family decimated by mortality….

And it’s not over, because I think Gideon could be called Leon too. I’ve seen that name in burial records. I saw this name in other acts of burial in Ste-Anne-des-Plaines with that of a Philomène, a Fébronie Clément and also a Fébina! I know that there was a couple named Léon Bohémier and Philomène (?) Clément who also had lost children…

This is so confusing!

Léon and Gédéon are finally the same couple

They had 21 children, 15 of whom died before they were ten years old. Their children who died within two weeks probably had a contagious childhood disease.

Ten years ago…

This is what I wrote on Nos ancêtres

Voici la raison principale du blogue que j’ai créé pour le Cyber journal SADP.

Je suis à la recherche de l’histoire d’une famille. Le couple Gédéon Bohémier et Euphébronie Clément.

Et pourtant, je ne suis aucunement relié à eux…

En transcrivant le reste du recensement de Ste-Anne-des-Plaines, au mois de décembre 2007, j’ai vu le nom de l’institutrice. Comme je suis un ancien enseignant, j’ai tout de suite été attiré par celle-ci. Elle s’appelait Phébronie Clément, selon le recenseur, mais j’ai vu plein d’autres graphies de son prénom dont Euphébronie dans des registres de paroisse en 1870.

Ce que je sais, c’est qu’elle a épousé Gédéon Bohémier.

J’aimerais bien vous dire qu’ils vécurent heureux et eurent plein de beaux enfants, mais le destin en a voulu autrement…

Voici le lien direct vers le couple Léon (Gédéon) Bohémier et Euphébronie Clément dans mon site Ancestry Les ancêtres de Ste-Anne-des-Plaines si vous êtes un de mes membres.

En faisant mes recherches généalogiques, j’ai trouvé que trois de leurs enfants sont décédés le 2 et le 4 décembre 1870 à Ste-Anne-des-Plaines. Ce sont Léontine, Benjamin et Bruno.

On ne mentionne pas la cause du décès dans l’acte de sépulture. On le fait à l’occasion.

Je tente donc ma chance ici et je pose la question :

Êtes-vous au courant de ce qui est arrivé aux trois enfants du couple Gédéon Bohémier et Euphébronie Clément en 1870?

Certains m’ont parlé d’épidémies, mais on n’en recense pas en 1870. D’autres m’ont parlé d’un incendie, mais ce n’est qu’une hypothèse.

On m’a même envoyé des actes de sépulture où l’on voit qu’un autre enfant, Henri Bohémier, est également inhumé le 28 novembre 1870.

On a donc quatre enfants morts en une semaine…

Vous en voulez plus…

Un autre enfant Siméon a été baptisé le 9 décembre 1870 et est décédé en 1878.

Sauf que, je n’ai pas encore eu d’informations sur la cause du décès.

Il y a sûrement quelqu’un à Ste-Anne-des-Plaines qui serait au courant de cette famille décimée par la mortalité…

Et ce n’est pas fini, car je pense que Gédéon pouvait se faire appeler aussi Léon. J’ai vu ce nom dans des actes de sépultures.

J’ai vu ce prénom dans d’autres actes de sépulture à Ste-Anne-des-Plaines avec celui d’une Philomène Clément, d’une Fébronie Clément et aussi d’une Fébrina!

Je sais qu’il existe un couple Léon Bohémier et Philomène (?) Clément qui ont aussi perdu des enfants…

J’en perds mon latin quelquefois!

Mise à jour :

Léon et Gédéon sont les mêmes finalement… Le couple a eu 21 enfants, dont 15 sont décédés avant d’atteindre dix ans. Les enfants morts dans l’espace de deux semaines ont probablement eu une maladie contagieuse infantile.


Anyone wants me to translate it because there is more to come…?


Do You Remember Harvey Louis Lagasse?

Of course you do!

Genealogy is not my forte.

Harvey Lagasse

Harvey Louis Lagasse, a distant cousin I have never met, was part of a B-24 Liberator crew. Earl Cullison was the pilot and Roy Sutton was the co-pilot.

This is what Earl Cullison’s nephew sent me about Roy Sutton.

The Story about Roy Sutton Jr. being shot down in WWII
Written by Sgt. Ernest Gordon Liner.

A Crewmate of Roy Sutton

Sgt Ernest Gordon Liner was a tail gunner in the 758th Bomb Squadron. He was shot down on August 22,1944 in his B-24 H, named The Moron, Serial # 42-52344 and became a POW.

The Pilot of The Moron was Lt Jerry A Cullison. Their ship was shot down on 459 BG Mission # 95 to bomb the synthetic oil refineries at Blechhammer, Germany, August 22, 1944 a long difficult eight and a half hour trip if you made it. The 459th Bomb Group lost 5 planes that day, 50 airmen MIA that day on a terrible mission 2 each from the 758th Bomb Squadron and the 759th Bomb Squadron and one from the 757th Bomb Squadron. All of us who flew missions to Blechhammer, Germany remember those missions as being one of the roughest ever because of flak, fighters, weather and sweating out low fuel status because of the distance and resistance encountered.

Memories by Ernest
I enlisted in the Air Force and was inducted at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, reporting later to Miami Beach, Florida, in November of 1943. We lived in hotels and took basic training on a golf course and on the beach. From there we went to Panama City, Florida for further training. From Panama City we were sent to Mitchell Field, New York for crew assignment. The following men were members of the crew: Pilot Jerry Cullison of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania; Co-pilot Roy Sutton of Norfolk, Virginia; Navigator Vaughn; Bombardier Harvey Lagasse of Bristol, Connecticut; Engineer Harold Botwright of Philipsburg, Pennsylvania; Waist gunner T. Tomlinson of Sour Lake, Texas; Ball turret gunner A.J. Benetti of San Fernando, California; Radio operator and Top turret gunner Paul Pete Peterson of Portland, Connecticut; Nose gunner A.J. Tony La Spina of Summit, New Jersey; and myself, Tail gunner Gordon Liner of Hillsborough, North Carolina. As a crew we were sent to Charleston, South Carolina and started flying together.

When I reported to basic training I had had to leave my girlfriend Franny in Baltimore. So, after basic I asked her to come to Charleston and we would get married. I rented a furnished room a month ahead to hold it, and she came down and we got married June 3, 1944. She stayed until I got leave and we went back to Baltimore where I had to leave her and return to Charleston. From Charleston we went to Westover Field, Massachusetts, where we flew submarine patrol for two weeks. There we were given a new plane for our own to go overseas. We left Mitchell Field, New York and went to Bangor, Maine to pick up supplies and extra equipment to prepare to go overseas. We left the states and went to Newfoundland and stayed there about a week because of bad weather. When the weather finally broke, we went on to the Azores where we gassed up for the flight to Africa. We landed in Marrakech, flew on to Tunis, and from there we flew to Foggia, Italy where they took our plane and gave us an old beaten up one. Later we found out that this was customary; a new plane was given to a crew that was about finished and ready to go back to the United States.

We were assigned to an air base at Cherignola, Italy and given a six man tent to sleep in at the edge of an almond orchard. At first we had a dirt floor, cots and candles for lights. We started improving the flooring and made some cabinets out of cardboard and rolled up the sides of the tent to get cool air. After a week or two we were given one bulb for light which got its power from a generator at the base.

We started flying with other crews to learn how to fly in formation. Experienced pilots flew with us for a few days and then we were on our own to fly every day. The weather permitting, we then started flying actual combat missions on August 12, 1944. Our flights were as follows:

Date          Target                                                       Plane
August 12  Northern Italy, early return            Hard to Get
August 14  Northern Italy, early return            Hard to Get
August 17  Ploesti, Romania, flack and fighters    Beats Me Mack
August 18  Ploesti, Romania, flack and fighters    The Moron
August 21  Air field in Hungary, flack and fighters    Beats Me Mack
August 22  Blechammer, Germany, flack and fighters   The Moron    DID NOT RETURN

The targets in northern Italy were called milk runs because they were more like training missions but the Ploesti targets were the worst in Europe for enemy flack and fighters. The Hungary targets were bad for fighters, but Blechammer was as bad as Ploesti because we had to fight our way from the target until we had to parachute out of the plane. Before we got to the target we lost an engine due to flack (ground fire). We saw one plane blow up and two others take hits. On three engines, we could not keep up with the formation. After the bombs were dropped, we were attacked by four fighters and lost another engine as well as other damage. One fighter came toward the tail, another from the side, and yet another from the under side. I shot the plane attacking our tail and it exploded. The fighter on the side killed Tomlinson and the ball turret gunner was hit, giving the German fighters two positions not covered. The next attacks came from above, and top gunner Peterson and I both were shooting at him and he was hit and bailed out. Then, I realized we were going down fast and our radio was shot out. I got out of my turret and went up into the waist and put on my parachute. Top gunner Peterson came down into the waist with his parachute on, and I had to move waist gunner Tomlinsons body from the escape door so we could get out. I opened the hatch and motioned for Peterson to go out, but he motioned for me to go! I realized that we had to get out, so I jumped. Peterson told me later, when he saw my chute open, he jumped, too.

As we were going down, we could see people shooting at us. A German fighter came straight toward me and we had heard about the pilots shooting at airmen in their chutes. But, at the last minute he tipped his wing and came close enough for me to see him motion to me. I went down in the woods and the others were captured in an open field. I could not get my chute out of the trees, so I took off my flying suit and boots and left them in a stump hole. I crawled under the bushes and tried to collect my thoughts, removed my escape kit and tried to determine where I was. The pilot had said we were in Hungary when we first began to be attacked by fighters. Later, I decided to move to a better location and I had not gone but about ten steps when someone hollered and I looked beside me to see a German soldier with a rifle pointing straight at me. He kept motioning for me to put my hands up and he was as scared of me as I was of him. Another soldier then came up and they searched me. They kept saying pistols, I guess because they knew we were issued .45 pistols. I told them that mine had gone down with the plane. I was always glad that I didn’t wear it, because I might have tried to use it. They took me out of the woods to a road where there were other people and a wagon that held a German pilot with his parachute rolled up in his lap. I was told to get on the wagon with the pilot who was about eighteen years old with blond hair and about my size. He smiled and motioned with his finger and said I putt putt you and you putt, putt me. We were taken to a small village about the size of Efland, North Carolina and it had a jail. There I saw two others of my crew and four members of another crew at the jail where we spent the night with bed bugs, roaches and everything else. The next day we were moved through the village and were fortunate to have the German soldiers along to keep civilians off of us. They were throwing things, spitting and hollering gangsters to us. We later understood why when we passed a hospital that had been bombed.

We were put on a truck with eight others and carried into the city of Budapest. Once in Budapest we were given something to eat, the first food we had had since we were shot down. We were then questioned and our belts, shoe laces, rings, watches and everything that we had in our pockets was taken from us. We found out later that we were in an old political prison. The building was three stories high, and was open in the center with walkways around each staircase. All of the cells were solitary cells about four feet by sixteen feet in size with no windows, and one light bulb that burned all of the time. Our comforts consisted of one cot, a door with a slot through which bowls of soup were given to us twice a day, one loaf of bread a day, and one bucket for a toilet. No one ever spoke. Enduring seven days of this, you did a great deal of thinking. I counted the bricks in that cell a thousand times and I thought I would remember the number, but I don’t. After seven days of silence I was taken to a German officer for questioning. We had been trained to give only our name, rank and serial number. I was then sent back to my cell for another seven days, followed by another trip for questioning. This time, a German who spoke perfect English told me that he would say things to me that he only wanted me to verify. I was told the type of plane we were in, the type of bombs we dropped, the target we hit, our air base in Italy and where we were trained. I figured one of our crew members told them all of this information. I was sent to another room with three members of my crew and they said that they were told the same thing, and it was good to have someone to talk to. After a few days we were taken under heavy guard to a train station, where we were put on those notorious, forty by eight, boxcars that were known all over Germany; forty men or eight horses. I think there must have been forty of us in the car when more men were brought in. It was too crowded to lie down, so we had to stand or sit. We were locked in our boxcar and in the next one were the guards with their dogs. We only had one bucket for a toilet for over forty men. Some men were sick and some were injured. We were on the train for two days before we were allowed to get out and given water and bread. At this point everyone was getting filthy and many had dysentery, yet with still only one bucket on the boxcar. We stopped in a large rail yard one night and the R.A.F. came over dropping bombs. The guards left for shelters and we were left behind, locked in the boxcar. Luckily the bombs missed us but they did tear up some of the rails further ahead. We stayed there another day, still locked up. Finally, we started again, attached to another train, and we started seeing lots of bomb damage to towns and bridges as we passed through Poland. After five days the train stopped and we were told to get out. We were at a train station in a small town where there were guards with dogs to escort us on a one mile walk to our camp. By this time, we were in pitiful shape. The camp was still being built, but we were assigned to barracks with twenty-two men, all together in one room. We had a spigot to wash up with and a latrine which had ten holes. Many times you didn’t have time to wait. For that reason it was a very good thing our government sent lots of clothes and shoes to the camps.


Jerry Cullison Jr. as an officer was sent to the famous Stalag Luft III. Uncle Jerry was then sent to Stalag Luft III-D where he stayed until he was liberated. Roy Sutton Jr. was an officer too… But I do not know if he was sent to the same POW camps…Earl Cullison Jr

About Roy Sutton…

Roy C. Sutton Jr.
Norfolk – Roy Clifton Sutton Jr., a lifelong Norfolk resident, died on October 16, five days shy of his 93rd birthday. The cause was heart failure.
“Roy Jr.” was raised on the beach at Ocean View, a place which forever was in his heart. He graduated from Maury High School, and then attended the college of William and Mary in Norfolk, and then in Williamsburg. His studies were interrupted by WWII, during which he rose to the rank of Captain in the Air Force. He was co-piloting a plane during a bombing mission over Hungary, when his plane was shot down. He spent nine months in a German POW camp, and then was rescued by Patton’s army. He then continued his studies, ultimately earning a degree in Physics. He entered business and became a part-owner of Sutton Appliance Company. He married Kathleen Sams in 1953, and began a family. He continued his love of athletics, joining the Portsmouth YMCA, and being well-known for winning many handball and tennis tournaments. Even into his eighties, he remained involved in competitions, being active in the Senior Olympics in multiple events. Until six months before his death, he was swimming laps twice a week. Recently, he was recognized as one of the members of the famous football “Last Team” at ODU.

This is post 1235…


Old pictures and my 5th cousin once removed

Old pictures sometimes are the only thing left to remember people by…

Or headstones…

Or Memorial Websites

Or a 94 year-old veteran who remembers the Fallen.

Gordon Hill remembered his old friend Larry Legace with pictures he kept all these years. First, with a picture taken at No.5 ITS (Initial Training School) Belleville, Ontario…

No.5 ITS Belleville, Ontario

Next, with a group picture taken later at No.4 EFTS Windsor Mills, Quebec in the summer of 42…

No.4 EFTS Windsor Mills, Quebec

Finally with a group picture taken at No.13 SFTS St. Hubert, Quebec…

SFTS St. Hubert

No.13 SFTS St. Hubert, Quebec

St-Hubert SFTS No 65 course

Colorised version

This photo of Larry was found on Ancestry’s Website.

Larry Legace real name was Lawrence Ferdinand Legace. His record of service is available for everyone to look at. Probably no one is looking for Lawrence since he never had any descendants…

Unless he fathered a child during the war…

Gordon Hill lost track of his old friend after they trained together at St. Hubert. He did not know that his friend had died in World War Two. When I found out, I told Clarence Simonsen who met “Gord” several times to write his memoirs to go easy when he would be telling him that his old friend had died.

Lawrence was on his 10th operation or trip as indicated on this confidential report dated 22 January, 1944.


Lawrence had become an Avro Lancaster Mark II pilot with RCAF 432 Squadron.


Avro Lancaster Mark II
Source Internet

Lancaster II

Avro Lancaster Mark II
Source Internet


Larry’s Record of Service card

After January 22, 1944, Lawrence became just a name on official documents for someone to read and file away.

First on a casualty inquiry dated 14 January, 1946…




Then a first investigation report dated 15 June, 1946…


burial report

Finally this one which is dated 12 March, 1948…

Not very pretty to read I warn you.



This is Lawrence’s final resting place…






All things decline
Everything falters, dies and ends
Towers cave in, walls collapse
Roses wither, horses stumble
Cloth grows old, men expire
Iron rusts and timber rots away
Nothing made by hand will last
I understand the truth
That all must die, both clerk and lay
And the fame of men now dead
Will quickly be forgotten
Unless the clerk takes up his pen
And brings their deeds to life again.

Poem written possibly by Wace.

Click here for more on him.

My friend John posted that poem on his blog. This is what will lead me eventually to write about Lawrence Legace, a 5th cousin once removed, on November 11.



Nothing made by hand will last…

Nothing made by hand will last
I understand the truth
That all must die, both clerk and lay
And the fame of men now dead
Will quickly be forgotten
Unless the clerk takes up his pen
And brings their deeds to life again.

Click here


Syracuse, New York 1942

Syracuse New York 1942

Colorised version



Green-Wood Cemetery Where Ancestors Await You

About a cemetery…

Moore Genealogy


Record book from Green-Wood Cemetery.
Courtesy of Green-Wood Cemetery.

Last spring I was reading my local newspaper when an article caught my eye. It was regarding a cemetery in New York City that has compiled over 160 biographies of people who served during World War 1 and that are buried there. They even put this on their website for anyone to look up. The cemetery is Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn, and they put these biographies online in time for the 100th anniversary of the United States entry into World War 1. I immediately went to their website to check this out and found a vast resource for genealogy research. I spent hours looking over their website. I discovered that in addition to the World War 1 biographies they had done the same with their Civil War veterans. They even have an online magazine called “the Arch.” In the current…

View original post 823 more words


Alexina – Post 1230

Alexina Brault or Breault was Elmire’s niece.

This screen capture shows you how add Father, add Mother, add RELATIVES will lead you if you are not careful.

If I remember correctly it was Fran who had shared this photo of Alexina Brault and Zéphyr Choinière.

They had four children. At least that’s how many I found.

No one got married at least I found no wedding photos…

Fran had also shared these two photos. The first one is Albert George Choinière and Alice Louise Alexandre’s wedding picture.

Albert George Choinière and Alice Louise Alexandre

This one with the best man and the bridesmaid.

The best man looked familiar as well as the bridesmaid.

Next time, The End of the Line or click here.

After, click here, and finally click here.



Placenta praevia

I guess you all know by now how Elmire Brault died on May 3rd, 1890.

If not, click on the image below.


Elmire Brault was just a name that I had found in 2007 while searching for my lost ancestors. Little by little my obsession with finding distant relatives led me in 2009 to write Our Ancestors, then later  find Joe, and visit together an old cemetery in Bristol, Connecticut.

This is how I met Elmire a second time.

Joe’s foot is seen on the right. I owe so much to Joe, and Katie owes so much to him. Joe and I are third cousins. This is a photo of his great-great-grandmother Marguerite Alexandre.

Marguerite Alexandre was my great-grandmother’s sister. I have no pictures of Henriette Alexandre but several pictures of her husband my great-grandfather Dennis Lagasse II, pictures that were shared by Dennis Lagasse IV.

I still hope that one day someone will write me and share Henriette’s pictures.

Until then, I can wait.