07/23/2025
Memories of the Battle of Lundy’s Lane
Memories of Lundys Lane
As the Battle of Lundy’s Lane loomed, the VanWyke family were living on a farm near the present-day site of All Saints Church. In the course of my research, I came across a vivid and richly detailed article written in 1930, recounting the memories of an elderly local woman as told to historian Ernest Green. Though advanced in years, she remained sharp-minded and deeply connected to the past through stories handed down from her grandmother.
Her recollections painted a compelling picture of life in the area once known as the Cross-Roads, situated along the old Portage Trail—what would eventually become the bustling Main and Ferry intersection of Drummondville. The article is a remarkable trove of firsthand and inherited accounts: a harrowing escape from the area just before the Battle of Lundy’s Lane erupted, the awe and terror stirred by a spectacular meteor shower that lit the night sky, the early construction of the City of the Falls, and the looming threat posed by the Fenian Raids.
As Drummondville evolved into a thriving village, her memories brought to life the people and personalities who shaped its early days. Their stories lend a rich human texture to our understanding of the past.
With the upcoming commemoration of the Battle of Lundy’s Lane this Friday, I share with you Part One of this extraordinary narrative—more will follow in due course.
On the eve of the Battle of Lundy’s Lane, the majority of settlers along the frontier abandoned their homes and withdrew to the shelter of the Short Hills. The army had requisitioned nearly all serviceable horses, wagons, and harnesses for the impending conflict. Yet the VanWykes, possessing a pair of aged and infirm horses unfit for the rigors of war, harnessed them to a wagon cobbled together with mended tack. Into this wagon were placed feather beds, household effects, and the younger children. The elder children, among them my mother, traveled afoot, driving the family’s cattle before them.
My grandmother, having earlier that day prepared a batch of bread for baking, carried the dough with her in the wagon. When the heat of the day overcame the cattle, the family was obliged to halt for the night somewhere along the road in the township of Thorold. Not far off stood a house where the occupants had just completed their baking; their great brick oven, still warm from use, stood idle. Grandmother entreated them for leave to use it to bake her bread, but they declined, fearing retribution should the Yankees pass by and suspect them of aiding Loyalists.
As dusk fell, the sound of cannon fire could be heard rumbling across the land from the direction of Lundy’s Lane, and the dreadful roar continued until midnight. Before the break of day, word reached them that the British had repelled the American forces, driving them back toward Chippawa. With hearts both anxious and relieved, the family turned about and began the journey homeward.
Upon descending the hill where the engagement had taken place, they beheld a scene of devastation. Homes were ruined, fences torn asunder, trees shattered. The very earth bore the stain of battle, where once pools of blood had lain, now dried and dark in the sand. Though my mother did not recall the sight of fallen men, it is likely the dead and wounded had already been removed from the field by the time they arrived.
