The striking statue above is Mother Canada weeping for her lost sons at the Vimy Ridge Memorial in France.
This morning I attended the annual Remberance Day ceremony which I try to do every year. I am always greatly moved by the ceremony and I think this year it was extra special because Remembrance Sunday fell on the 11th.
As I stood there this morning in silence at 11am, I wondered what was going through the mind of my Great Grandfathers Mapplethorpe, Theakstone and Feasey who were all in service on November 11th 1918 when armistice was declared. One of them was with the Yorks and Lancs Regiment in Italy, one with the 9th Yorkshire Regiment and the Norhumberland Fusiliers in France and one of them in France with the 142nd Field Ambulance.
With my Grandad serving in the Second World War, I grew up with a strong sense of the importance of the sacrifice made to us by our armed forces in defending our way of life. I became so interested in it that I have been researching my three Great Grandfathers first world war experiences for some time. Given that two thirds of World War One service records were destroyed by a German raid in the Second World War, this is no easy task. All three of my families records were destroyed in that raid but I did have some papers and photos for two of my Great Grandfathers and so my research was made much easier.
I have spent quite a lot of time at the National Archives in London researching their wartime experiences and just this year managed to piece together the record of my third Great Grandfather whom my Dad knew as a child but whose wartime record nobody in the family seemed to know anything about.
Great Granddad Feasey served with the 12th General Hospital at Rouen from 1914 before moving to the 142nd Field Ambulance with whom he served as a stretcher bearer through to the end of the war. He went across with the British Expeditionary Force (The Old Contemptables) and his field ambulance unit were at pretty much every major battle on the western front in the intervening years. His unit saw action on the Somme and at Passchendaele and the job of the field ambulance was particularly bloody and gruesome. The casualty rate was high and the War Diary of his unit, which I have researched a Kew, reveals just how awful it was for the unarmed men of the field ambulance. The War Diary entry for the Unit in September 1918, at what I think was the Battle of the Hindenburg Line, reveals the following, "The whole bearer personnel were working under great pressure and, although shelling was most severe, all casualties were evacuated." The War Diaries of the various units are very matter of fact about the experiences of the units but I still think this little snippet allows us to imagine just how awful the job must have been.
Imagine the huge pride I felt then when I discovered he had received the Military Medal for Gallantry along with various service medals including the 1914 star. Nobody in the family who knew him remembers him talking about any of his wartime experiences. He simply came back from war and got on with his life, actually becoming a postman. The greatness of that generation is not evidenced just in the numbers who gave their lives, it is also shown in the modesty of those who survived.
All three of my Great-Grandfathers survived, although one of them was gassed, as far as I can establish from the War Diary, at the Battle of Asiago on the 15th June 1918 by the Austrians. He never really recovered from his gassing and apparently had to spend much of the rest of his days sat near the Aga.
I try to keep my website to political issues and not personal ones, but Remembrance Sunday is a day I feel very passionate about, as any of my pupils will tell you. I am very proud of the contribution my family made in the service of our country and I continue to be proud of the sacrifices our armed forces are making today. I hope we never stop remembering.
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
— John McCrae