My Great Uncle Albert

[Whitey Grandad]

My father was the youngest of his family yet when his father Ben was old and needed care it was my parents who looked after him. When he died in 1951 he left precious few posessions yet amongst them was a single letter, written in pencil on flimsy notepaper and sent to him by his younger brother Albert from the trenches in Northern France. My father couldn't bring himself to throw it away. This is the letter:

------------------------------------------

Dear Ben¹ & Lizzie 

It gives me much pleasure to write to you these few lines to thank you for the parcel. That came as a god send you cannot imagine what it means to get some clean food at such a time as I received yours. We were laying at an old factory when we got the order to move and our hearts sank to our boots, for it was raining hard and we knew we had a long way to go. We were marching for 11 hrs in a rain and snow storm and when we got to the trench it was up to the knees in mud and water -and it snowed all that night, we had no shelter whatever so you can guess what a terrible night we had. 

We stopped there all the next day. Then we were told to get ready to go over the top, 'another bit of luck,' we thought. Well, the time came and over we went, and over came fritz's shells but we carried on and on straight across to fritz's trenches, through them and over a railway line, over his gun pits which were built of concrete and into a village the other side, where we had to dig in. 

We stopped there for two days, then we were releived and came back to the railway line and we made shelter as best we could from the rain and also from the shells. That was where I was when your parcel came, so you can see how it was welcomed after dragging your food for about two mile through the mud you have not got much of an appetite for that for you have to have it in a sand bag and strung round your neck, and it is never in the best of condition in fine weather let alone the wet. 

Well there was four of us in the shelter and I was asleep when it came and they played a joke on me by dangling it from the top of the shelter, so when I woke I got the surprise at full strength and I can tell you I did! I layed looking at it a second or two wondering if I was awake or not, so you can tell what a god send that was to us. The others set about making a fire and getting some water and we all enjoyed that meal greatly and I have to thank you for them. 

I found the shilling alright, atleast my pall did in the sweets, and I was telling them that your boy was here when I had a letter come that is for Ben², so as it's addressed for the 23rd³  I will keep it as we are expecting a new draft and he may be in it, so when you write give me his proper address so that if he is not in the draft I can send it direct, otherwise he might never get it. 

Well I think this is all at present, except I have been very lucky up till now not being hit yet. I have only one pal left that came from Dover with me in my squad, the other poor chaps have gone under. 

So must close with all best wishes from 

Albert 

------------------------------------------

His last few words have a sad poignancy. Eleven days after he wrote these words Albert and the 660 other members of his battalion lined up in no man's land at 03:45 in the early morning and attacked the German trenches just to the north of the village of Oppy. He never returned. Battalion casualties were 7 officers and 122 'other ranks'. He has no known grave and is most probably still lying out there in the one of the vast, featureless fields of the area.

Albert married on the 8th October 1905. They had five daughters before at last Jenny had a boy Sidney on 3rd October 1915. We don't know how much time Albert had with his little son before he went to France and was killed before his son was two years old.

(1) Ben & Lizzie were my grandparents, Benjamin and Elizabeth.

(2) The letter 'that is for Ben' was for their eldest son, my uncle, also called Benjamin. He was 22 years old at the time that the letter was written.

(3) the 23rd refers to the 23rd Battalion, The Royal Fusiliers in which Ben and Albert served.

Young Ben was wounded twice during the war. Once when he was out in No-Man's-Land mending wire fences when a flare was sent up. Instead of flinging themselves to the ground as they had been taught he just stood there frozen. A german machine gun swept low across the ground and hit him in the leg. If he had been lying there as he had been trained then he would probably have been killed. On another occasion although they had orders not to talk he turned to say something to the pal to his side when a bullet went into his mouth between his teeth and out through his cheek. My father said that he carried a red mark on his cheek for the rest of his life.

On the occasion of Armistice Day we can spend a few moments in quite contemplation of the unbelievable devotion, sacrifice and achievements of this generation. They did what they accepted as their duty with never a complaint and never a grumble.

Will we ever see their like again?

[Raging Bull]

In answer to your final 7 words, no. The system has breed a world of self entitled pussies who blames everyone but themselves for their issues.  

[Sergei Gotsmanov]

26 minutes ago, Whitey Grandad said:

My father was the youngest of his family yet when his father Ben was old and needed care it was my parents who looked after him. When he died in 1951 he left precious few posessions yet amongst them was a single letter, written in pencil on flimsy notepaper and sent to him by his younger brother Albert from the trenches in Northern France. My father couldn't bring himself to throw it away. This is the letter:

------------------------------------------

Dear Ben¹ & Lizzie 

It gives me much pleasure to write to you these few lines to thank you for the parcel. That came as a god send you cannot imagine what it means to get some clean food at such a time as I received yours. We were laying at an old factory when we got the order to move and our hearts sank to our boots, for it was raining hard and we knew we had a long way to go. We were marching for 11 hrs in a rain and snow storm and when we got to the trench it was up to the knees in mud and water -and it snowed all that night, we had no shelter whatever so you can guess what a terrible night we had. 

We stopped there all the next day. Then we were told to get ready to go over the top, 'another bit of luck,' we thought. Well, the time came and over we went, and over came fritz's shells but we carried on and on straight across to fritz's trenches, through them and over a railway line, over his gun pits which were built of concrete and into a village the other side, where we had to dig in. 

We stopped there for two days, then we were releived and came back to the railway line and we made shelter as best we could from the rain and also from the shells. That was where I was when your parcel came, so you can see how it was welcomed after dragging your food for about two mile through the mud you have not got much of an appetite for that for you have to have it in a sand bag and strung round your neck, and it is never in the best of condition in fine weather let alone the wet. 

Well there was four of us in the shelter and I was asleep when it came and they played a joke on me by dangling it from the top of the shelter, so when I woke I got the surprise at full strength and I can tell you I did! I layed looking at it a second or two wondering if I was awake or not, so you can tell what a god send that was to us. The others set about making a fire and getting some water and we all enjoyed that meal greatly and I have to thank you for them. 

I found the shilling alright, atleast my pall did in the sweets, and I was telling them that your boy was here when I had a letter come that is for Ben², so as it's addressed for the 23rd³  I will keep it as we are expecting a new draft and he may be in it, so when you write give me his proper address so that if he is not in the draft I can send it direct, otherwise he might never get it. 

Well I think this is all at present, except I have been very lucky up till now not being hit yet. I have only one pal left that came from Dover with me in my squad, the other poor chaps have gone under. 

So must close with all best wishes from 

Albert 

------------------------------------------

His last few words have a sad poignancy. Eleven days after he wrote these words Albert and the 660 other members of his battalion lined up in no man's land at 03:45 in the early morning and attacked the German trenches just to the north of the village of Oppy. He never returned. Battalion casualties were 7 officers and 122 'other ranks'. He has no known grave and is most probably still lying out there in the one of the vast, featureless fields of the area.

Albert married on the 8th October 1905. They had five daughters before at last Jenny had a boy Sidney on 3rd October 1915. We don't know how much time Albert had with his little son before he went to France and was killed before his son was two years old.

(1) Ben & Lizzie were my grandparents, Benjamin and Elizabeth.

(2) The letter 'that is for Ben' was for their eldest son, my uncle, also called Benjamin. He was 22 years old at the time that the letter was written.

(3) the 23rd refers to the 23rd Battalion, The Royal Fusiliers in which Ben and Albert served.

Young Ben was wounded twice during the war. Once when he was out in No-Man's-Land mending wire fences when a flare was sent up. Instead of flinging themselves to the ground as they had been taught he just stood there frozen. A german machine gun swept low across the ground and hit him in the leg. If he had been lying there as he had been trained then he would probably have been killed. On another occasion although they had orders not to talk he turned to say something to the pal to his side when a bullet went into his mouth between his teeth and out through his cheek. My father said that he carried a red mark on his cheek for the rest of his life.

On the occasion of Armistice Day we can spend a few moments in quite contemplation of the unbelievable devotion, sacrifice and achievements of this generation. They did what they accepted as their duty with never a complaint and never a grumble.

Will we ever see their like again?

Thanks for that Whitey. It was moving.

[Dimond Geezer]

It's this time of year when I think of my grandparents, both of my grandfathers, and my step grandfather served, two were at Normandy, one of which was also evacuated from Dunkirk. So proud of all three, and all returned home, and I was fortunate enough to know them.

[SFC1906]

2 hours ago, Whitey Grandad said:

My father was the youngest of his family yet when his father Ben was old and needed care it was my parents who looked after him. When he died in 1951 he left precious few posessions yet amongst them was a single letter, written in pencil on flimsy notepaper and sent to him by his younger brother Albert from the trenches in Northern France. My father couldn't bring himself to throw it away. This is the letter:

------------------------------------------

Dear Ben¹ & Lizzie 

It gives me much pleasure to write to you these few lines to thank you for the parcel. That came as a god send you cannot imagine what it means to get some clean food at such a time as I received yours. We were laying at an old factory when we got the order to move and our hearts sank to our boots, for it was raining hard and we knew we had a long way to go. We were marching for 11 hrs in a rain and snow storm and when we got to the trench it was up to the knees in mud and water -and it snowed all that night, we had no shelter whatever so you can guess what a terrible night we had. 

We stopped there all the next day. Then we were told to get ready to go over the top, 'another bit of luck,' we thought. Well, the time came and over we went, and over came fritz's shells but we carried on and on straight across to fritz's trenches, through them and over a railway line, over his gun pits which were built of concrete and into a village the other side, where we had to dig in. 

We stopped there for two days, then we were releived and came back to the railway line and we made shelter as best we could from the rain and also from the shells. That was where I was when your parcel came, so you can see how it was welcomed after dragging your food for about two mile through the mud you have not got much of an appetite for that for you have to have it in a sand bag and strung round your neck, and it is never in the best of condition in fine weather let alone the wet. 

Well there was four of us in the shelter and I was asleep when it came and they played a joke on me by dangling it from the top of the shelter, so when I woke I got the surprise at full strength and I can tell you I did! I layed looking at it a second or two wondering if I was awake or not, so you can tell what a god send that was to us. The others set about making a fire and getting some water and we all enjoyed that meal greatly and I have to thank you for them. 

I found the shilling alright, atleast my pall did in the sweets, and I was telling them that your boy was here when I had a letter come that is for Ben², so as it's addressed for the 23rd³  I will keep it as we are expecting a new draft and he may be in it, so when you write give me his proper address so that if he is not in the draft I can send it direct, otherwise he might never get it. 

Well I think this is all at present, except I have been very lucky up till now not being hit yet. I have only one pal left that came from Dover with me in my squad, the other poor chaps have gone under. 

So must close with all best wishes from 

Albert 

------------------------------------------

His last few words have a sad poignancy. Eleven days after he wrote these words Albert and the 660 other members of his battalion lined up in no man's land at 03:45 in the early morning and attacked the German trenches just to the north of the village of Oppy. He never returned. Battalion casualties were 7 officers and 122 'other ranks'. He has no known grave and is most probably still lying out there in the one of the vast, featureless fields of the area.

Albert married on the 8th October 1905. They had five daughters before at last Jenny had a boy Sidney on 3rd October 1915. We don't know how much time Albert had with his little son before he went to France and was killed before his son was two years old.

(1) Ben & Lizzie were my grandparents, Benjamin and Elizabeth.

(2) The letter 'that is for Ben' was for their eldest son, my uncle, also called Benjamin. He was 22 years old at the time that the letter was written.

(3) the 23rd refers to the 23rd Battalion, The Royal Fusiliers in which Ben and Albert served.

Young Ben was wounded twice during the war. Once when he was out in No-Man's-Land mending wire fences when a flare was sent up. Instead of flinging themselves to the ground as they had been taught he just stood there frozen. A german machine gun swept low across the ground and hit him in the leg. If he had been lying there as he had been trained then he would probably have been killed. On another occasion although they had orders not to talk he turned to say something to the pal to his side when a bullet went into his mouth between his teeth and out through his cheek. My father said that he carried a red mark on his cheek for the rest of his life.

On the occasion of Armistice Day we can spend a few moments in quite contemplation of the unbelievable devotion, sacrifice and achievements of this generation. They did what they accepted as their duty with never a complaint and never a grumble.

Will we ever see their like again?

Thankyou for sharing that Whitey - very moving, and very poignant.

Lest we forget.

[buctootim]

One of my prize possessions is a photo of my dad on the foredeck of a merchant ship in convoy on the way to Murmansk in Russia. He is stood there in a donkey jacket hacking the foot thick ice off the superstructure to stop the ship capsizing - a more certain death even than being torpedoed.  He was 15 years old.  

Edited 11 November, 2020 by buctootim

[Tamesaint]

Thanks for posting.

[Sergei Gotsmanov]

2 hours ago, buctootim said:

One of my prize possessions is a photo of my dad on the foredeck of a merchant ship in convoy on the way to Murmansk in Russia. He is stood there in a donkey jacket hacking the foot thick ice off the superstructure to stop the ship capsizing - a more certain death even than being torpedoed.  He was 15 years old.  

15 Years old! Little older than my son. 

[egg]

Lovely post. Thanks for sharing it. 

[Whitey Grandad]

There is a postscript to this story. Some thirty years ago my younger sister was involved in county athletics and one day called into a local athletics cub. There was a man behind the reception desk and she noticed that his surname was the same as our family. She told him that it was her maiden name and they chatted and soon established that our families were from the same area of Ponders End in north London. Then he asked her if she knew anything about his father. He had no photographs, no mementos, nothing at all because his father had been killed in the First World War when he was just a toddler.

The following day she went back to see him again and saying "I've got something for you" she handed him the letter that his father had written in the trenches over seventy years before. My dad said that he realised then why he had kept that letter for all those years.

Edited 11 November, 2020 by Whitey Grandad

[hypochondriac]

59 minutes ago, Whitey Grandad said:

There is a postscript to this story. Some thirty years ago my younger sister was involved in county athletics and one day called into a local athletics cub. There was a man behind the reception desk and she noticed that his surname was the same as our family. She told him that it was her maiden name and they chatted and soon established that our families were from the same area of Ponders End in north London. Then he asked her if she knew anything about his father. He had no photographs, no mementos, nothing at all because his father had been killed in the First World War when he was just a toddler.

The following day she went back to see him again and saying "I've got something for you" she handed him the letter that his father had written in the trenches over seventy years before. My dad said that he realised then why he had kept that letter for all those years.

That's amazing. Thanks for sharing. 

[Fan The Flames]

We can only imagine the horrors these boys went through. We have been at war with each other since forever and unfortunately I don't see any reason why this will stop.

[Fan The Flames]

I have a nice WW1 story. My gran was born in Ireland before the war, just ourside her house was a stone to stop the carts from driving too close to their front door and after the war this large simpleton used to sit on the stone watching the world go by. The local kids used to provoke him until he went mad and chase them down the street. My grans mother would make him a cup of tea and be nice to him.

In the pubs of a Saturday night he would tell everyone of this fantastic story of how he saved a British officer who was wounded on the battlefield by slinging him over his shoulders and hauling him back to the trenches. But no one believed him and just thought he was a shell shocked loon.

Anyway at somepoint in the 1920's a British man came looking for him and tracked him down in his local, he had come to thank him and told everyone there the story of how this man saved his life. He wasn't the shell shocked coward that people had thought he was, he really was a war hero. The kids still wound him up but he had gained the respect of everyone in the town.

[Whitey Grandad]

30 minutes ago, Fan The Flames said:

I have a nice WW1 story. My gran was born in Ireland before the war, just ourside her house was a stone to stop the carts from driving too close to their front door and after the war this large simpleton used to sit on the stone watching the world go by. The local kids used to provoke him until he went mad and chase them down the street. My grans mother would make him a cup of tea and be nice to him.

In the pubs of a Saturday night he would tell everyone of this fantastic story of how he saved a British officer who was wounded on the battlefield by slinging him over his shoulders and hauling him back to the trenches. But no one believed him and just thought he was a shell shocked loon.

Anyway at somepoint in the 1920's a British man came looking for him and tracked him down in his local, he had come to thank him and told everyone there the story of how this man saved his life. He wasn't the shell shocked coward that people had thought he was, he really was a war hero. The kids still wound him up but he had gained the respect of everyone in the town.

We can never know what they went through.

As the saying goes, "Before you judge a man, walk a mile in his shoes"

[gandalf]

Thanks for sharing this.

My grandfather and his two brothers joined the Royal Sussex Regiment and fought on the Somme. All three survived the war. I now have my grandfather's Military Medal and Citation. He died in 1969 and I know it's become cliched but he never discussed his experiences except to occasionally pass some random comments. He was apparently very p***ed off that he couldn't join up for WW2. Instead he drove tankers of aviation fuel to the many airfields around Sussex and Hampshire.

I have visited a few War Grave cemeteries travelling through France. Sometimes you follow a sign and find a cemetery with only a handful of graves. All beautifully kept. An unforgettable and emotional experience is to attend the nightly ceremony at the Menin Gate, Ypres.  

[Behind Enemy Lines]

Two amazing stories to read. Thank you gents for sharing with us. 
 

They gave their lives for us, lest we forget. 

[aintforever]

Very moving stories, thanks for sharing. It's mental what that generation went through during the wars, ordinary people put into the most extraordinarily tough situations - god knows how today’s lot would cope if asked to do the same. You would like to think the World has learned it’s lessons and moved on from that era so we never have to find out.

Both my Grandads served and survived WW2, one great uncle survived Dunkirk and later got a Blighty in France just after D Day. My Nan’s brother wasn’t so lucky and was shot down and killed on a bombing raid over Germany aged just 19 - he was an art student.

This collection of first hand accounts by the BBC is worth looking at if you are interested in reading about WW2.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/ww2peopleswar/categories/

[John Boy Saint]

On 11/11/2020 at 23:32, Fan The Flames said:

I have a nice WW1 story. My gran was born in Ireland before the war, just ourside her house was a stone to stop the carts from driving too close to their front door and after the war this large simpleton used to sit on the stone watching the world go by. The local kids used to provoke him until he went mad and chase them down the street. My grans mother would make him a cup of tea and be nice to him.

In the pubs of a Saturday night he would tell everyone of this fantastic story of how he saved a British officer who was wounded on the battlefield by slinging him over his shoulders and hauling him back to the trenches. But no one believed him and just thought he was a shell shocked loon.

Anyway at somepoint in the 1920's a British man came looking for him and tracked him down in his local, he had come to thank him and told everyone there the story of how this man saved his life. He wasn't the shell shocked coward that people had thought he was, he really was a war hero. The kids still wound him up but he had gained the respect of everyone in the town.

That just made me think of when I was nipper and up at my Granny’s in Lancashire, there was a very nice old chap who lived over the road always waved hello. One day he came into Granny’s house to ask my Dad about something. When he left I asked my Dad “why was that man shaking”. He told me it was shell shock and he came back from the 1st World War with it - why doesn’t Grandad have it from the War he was in - my Dad said it was a different war, he tried to explain, but it wasn’t until a few years later when my Grandad who went though the Second World War explained what the soldiers in the firsts went through. Whenever folk talk about the First World War and shell shock I always think of the nice old chap over the road from Granny who carried the scars for the last 70 years of his life. 

Edited 13 November, 2020 by John Boy Saint

[Jeremy]

On 12/11/2020 at 23:11, gandalf said:

Thanks for sharing this.

My grandfather and his two brothers joined the Royal Sussex Regiment and fought on the Somme. All three survived the war. I now have my grandfather's Military Medal and Citation. He died in 1969 and I know it's become cliched but he never discussed his experiences except to occasionally pass some random comments. He was apparently very p***ed off that he couldn't join up for WW2. Instead he drove tankers of aviation fuel to the many airfields around Sussex and Hampshire.

I have visited a few War Grave cemeteries travelling through France. Sometimes you follow a sign and find a cemetery with only a handful of graves. All beautifully kept. An unforgettable and emotional experience is to attend the nightly ceremony at the Menin Gate, Ypres.  

I've been to that and also the Tyne Cot Commonwealth War  Cemetery at nearby Passchendale. Both were incredibly moving. It was a beautiful, warm, cloudless afternoon. The bees were buzzing and the larks were singing. I looked out from the cemetery to what must have been the battlefield and is now verdant green pastures and tried to imagine what it must have been like. I  couldn't, of course. While I was looking around the display areaa an older guy (well retired I imagine) came in dressed in his immaculate uniform. I felt a bit ashamed that I was wearing casuals that may have appeared a bit disrespectul.