Jobs & Education1 min ago
Ww1 Story
With the centenary of the Battle of the Somme, and the interest in WW!, I have been thinking a lot about my Grandmother, and thought I would tell you this sad little story. No one I know is interested enough to listen, but maybe someone on here would like to read it, and I wouldn't want anyone I know to take offence, as well they might, this being Northern Ireland where religious and political feelings are very sensitive.
My Grandma was born in 1881 and died in 1970 and she told this story often, always with tears, which we as children found very painful to watch. She had five brothers, three of whom volunteered and were sent to the Somme (this was in Northern Ireland, so they were not conscripted). Two were killed. The third brother, the youngest, Richard, came home with damaged lungs.
The following year, at the 12th July celebrations in Northern Ireland, Richard joined the parade to carry the Union flag. It rained all day. Grandma followed the parade and tried to help Richard to carry the flag but he wouldn't give it up and at that time women were not allowed in the parade. That night, Richard's breathing grew gradually worse and worse and he died early next morning.
My Grandma always cried and said that he died for his country just as much as his two brothers, who died at the Somme.
Leaving aside the religious and political controversy that now surrounds the 12th July parade in Northern Ireland, I have carried this wee story with me all these years as to me it represents the strength of feeling of the community of my grandmother's era. So sad. Such a waste of lives.
My Grandma was born in 1881 and died in 1970 and she told this story often, always with tears, which we as children found very painful to watch. She had five brothers, three of whom volunteered and were sent to the Somme (this was in Northern Ireland, so they were not conscripted). Two were killed. The third brother, the youngest, Richard, came home with damaged lungs.
The following year, at the 12th July celebrations in Northern Ireland, Richard joined the parade to carry the Union flag. It rained all day. Grandma followed the parade and tried to help Richard to carry the flag but he wouldn't give it up and at that time women were not allowed in the parade. That night, Richard's breathing grew gradually worse and worse and he died early next morning.
My Grandma always cried and said that he died for his country just as much as his two brothers, who died at the Somme.
Leaving aside the religious and political controversy that now surrounds the 12th July parade in Northern Ireland, I have carried this wee story with me all these years as to me it represents the strength of feeling of the community of my grandmother's era. So sad. Such a waste of lives.
Answers
Best Answer
No best answer has yet been selected by chanel5. Once a best answer has been selected, it will be shown here.
For more on marking an answer as the "Best Answer", please visit our FAQ.I found that very sad and touching. Thank you for sharing it with us.
My Grandfather ran a very successful family business in a little village of Alphington, Exeter.
He was a Territorial and was on annual camp on Salisbury Plain when called to arms with his regiment.
He was shipped off to Egypt for training and kitting out in tropical kit. He must of spent some time in North Africa before he was sent to Gallipoli.
He fought and survived that campaign but caught cerebral malaria.He returned to his business but his mental health deteriorated, due to malaria, he was committed to a mental asylum. In the early 1920s he found a flagon of some caustic soda type material and drank the lot. He died a terrible,painful death.
To this day my poppy represents one particular 'casualty of war' as well as millions of others. :-(
My Grandfather ran a very successful family business in a little village of Alphington, Exeter.
He was a Territorial and was on annual camp on Salisbury Plain when called to arms with his regiment.
He was shipped off to Egypt for training and kitting out in tropical kit. He must of spent some time in North Africa before he was sent to Gallipoli.
He fought and survived that campaign but caught cerebral malaria.He returned to his business but his mental health deteriorated, due to malaria, he was committed to a mental asylum. In the early 1920s he found a flagon of some caustic soda type material and drank the lot. He died a terrible,painful death.
To this day my poppy represents one particular 'casualty of war' as well as millions of others. :-(