Diary of a soldier.
After my maternal Granny died, we found a diary and postcard album from The Great War under her bed.
Her three brothers, and my Grandad and his two brothers all went to war, all from Gloucestershire, and all joined local regiments. One of them never came home.
Great Uncle William, one of my Granddad's brothers. Joined at 18, wounded at 19, killed at 20, and has no known grave. He is remembered on the Tyne Cot memorial.
Great Uncle Sam's diary.
It starts in January 1918 with details of travel from France to Italy. He went from the trenches to the mountains where he fought from crevices or holes blasted from rock. Whenever a shell landed, it would spray the soldiers with both shrapnel and lethal shards of stone.
He was a signaller, and this is an entry showing some of the codes used.
On arrival in Italy he went into the front line at a place called Asiago.
A week later he was relieved and moved into a support position where he later saw Prince Edward.
A week later he was back in the front line before being relieved again.
He was in combat until June when he was sent home on leave. There are no more entries in the diary after that, but I know he was back in Italy by July. He was probably involved in the fighting that ended the war in Italy on November the third.
From the postcard album.
Unused postcards brought back by one of my Granny's relatives.
Destruction in Belgium, 1914.
French soldiers in Northern France.
Venice Hospital after bombardment by the enemy.
A captured German aeroplane (if anyone knows what type, I would be really grateful to know.)
My family.
Great Uncle Sam, one of my Gran's brothers, seated second from left.
On the back, stamped and dated 19th August 1916, it begins, "What do you think of this dirty little throng, I guess we look serious
we had it took the day we come from the trenches …"
Uncle Sam, and his friends, had just come out of the front line, had his picture "took", converted to a postcard, and sent home to his sister.
It is a beautiful, poignant snapshot in time. Uncle Sam made it home along with at least one of his comrades, but I have no idea if any of the others survived.
Great Uncle Ted, another of my Gran's brothers. He fought in France, Gallipoli, Egypt, and Italy, and made it home afterwards. I don't know if he met his brothers whilst overseas, but he was there at the end of the war in Italy just like his brother Sam.
My Gran's third brother, Uncle Arthur also fought but I have no information about him.
I met all three of my Gran's brothers when I was growing up, but they never talked about the war, and I had no idea that they had even been involved.
My Grandad who was in the Royal Field Artillery.
It took a lot of men to man each gun.
After the war he emigrated to become a farmer in Australia in 1919. Three years later he sent for his fiance, my Gran. She sailed alone and they were married the day after she landed in Oz, having had the banns read on the boat on the way over.
Would anyone wait three years now, with communication only by letters taking eight weeks each way?
He died when I was one, so I have no memories of him.
Then there was Great Uncle Vic, my Gran's brother-in-law. I have no photos of him, but he was a staunch socialist and believed it was wrong to fight and take the life of another.
He became a stretcher bearer and won the Military Medal for bravery.
I only discovered a few weeks ago that my paternal grandfather also served during WW1. This came as a surprise as my Grandma hated guns, and hated it when my brother and I played with toy guns. Perhaps the war was the reason why.
He died when I was two, and I have no memories of him either.
Red for the blood that was spilled.
Black for the mourning of those left behind.
Green for the new growth on the fields of battle.
The leaf at eleven o'clock, for the time when the guns fell silent.