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Pride of place in my front room my great grandfather 10960. E. TAYLOR WEST RIDING REGIMENT ( LEEDS PALS) The Somme 1916   They went with songs to the battle,they were young. straight of limb,tru

They all have my respect . This hangs on my wall, my nans twin brother and brother .        

to the heros that fell .R.I.P...................AND TO THOSE WHO WILL GIVE THEIR LIVES FOR OUR FREEDOM IN THE FUTURE WE THANK YOU ......

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  On 11/11/2011 at 09:33, Wullz said:

 

 

Cemetery: Prague War Cemetery

Country: Czech Republic

Area:

Rank: Sergeant

Official Number: 3020020

Unit: 153 Sqdn.

Force: Royal Air Force

Nationality: British

Details:

06/03/45 Aged 19 II. C. 9. Son of William and Janet Simpson, of Larkhall, LanarkshireCemetery: Prague War Cemetery

My uncle Walter, ran off with the lad next door to join up and never came back.......bombed Dresden, Hamburg, Chemnitz and Berlin though....

 

True heroes one and all......

Never were truer words spoken.

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To my brave fellow islanders who gave their lives to ensure our freedom in both world wars.

 

Also my 181 + fellow islanders and crew of the Iolaire who saw the first world war through safely only to drown at their own doorstep on the 1st January 1919 with the main towns harbour lights in sight were family and friends were waiting for them. She struck the beasts of Holm which are only 25 yards from the shore but as it was pitch black and the menfolk still in their heavy uniform and boots 70% + of them drowned and there was not a single household untouched by the tragedy.

 

More can be read about this tragedy here

 

cheers Callum

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  On 11/11/2011 at 00:53, DEADHORSEANDDONKEYDEALER said:

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Pride of place in my front room my great grandfather

10960. E. TAYLOR

WEST RIDING REGIMENT ( LEEDS PALS)

The Somme 1916

 

They went with songs to the battle,they were young.

straight of limb,true of eyes,steady and aglow.

they were stanch to the end against odds uncounted,

they fell with their faces to the foe.

they shall not grow old,as we that are left grow old.

age shall not weary them,nor the years condemn.

at the going down of the sun,and in the morning,

WE WILL REMEMBER THEM

very nice mate. fair play to you.

atb,j.

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my g. grandfather was a p.o.w in turkey in ww1.

he also was a surgeon. although he him slef was wounded he saved a lot of lives and helped them to escape.

he had the chance to go himslef but he stayed behind to look after the sick and wounded.

their was a book writen about it, and they deaditcated to my g.grandfather.

the book is called the road to en dor.

i know that many others died and did braveor and better things in the war, but iam still very proud of him.

atb,j.

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  On 11/11/2011 at 11:43, jetro said:

my g. grandfather was a p.o.w in turkey in ww1.

he also was a surgeon. although he him slef was wounded he saved a lot of lives and helped them to escape.

he had the chance to go himslef but he stayed behind to look after the sick and wounded.

their was a book writen about it, and they deaditcated to my g.grandfather.

the book is called the road to en dor.

i know that many others died and did braveor and better things in the war, but iam still very proud of him.

atb,j.

And rightly so jetro, :thumbs:

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  On 11/11/2011 at 12:37, kenny14 said:
  On 11/11/2011 at 11:43, jetro said:

my g. grandfather was a p.o.w in turkey in ww1.

he also was a surgeon. although he him slef was wounded he saved a lot of lives and helped them to escape.

he had the chance to go himslef but he stayed behind to look after the sick and wounded.

their was a book writen about it, and they deaditcated to my g.grandfather.

the book is called the road to en dor.

i know that many others died and did braveor and better things in the war, but iam still very proud of him.

atb,j.

And rightly so jetro, :thumbs:

thanks mate.

atb,j.

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Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

Till on the haunting flares(2) we turned our backs

And towards our distant rest(3) began to trudge.

Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots

But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots(4)

Of tired, outstripped(5) Five-Nines(6) that dropped behind.

Gas!(7) Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,

Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,

And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime(9) . . .

Dim, through the misty panes(10) and thick green light,

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,

He plunges at me, guttering,(11) choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace

Behind the wagon that we flung him in,

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,

His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud(12)

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest(13)

To children ardent(14) for some desperate glory,

The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est

Pro patria mori.(15)

Wilfred Owen

8 October 1917 - March, 1918

 

My favourite war poem ;)

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