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Ghost Soldiers


Dave Hopkin
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Possibly the finest memorial & tribute to the Somme I could imagine - such a simple idea, so well executed and so powerful

For those that didn't have the privilege to encounter any of the "Ghost Army" I will try and describe what was going on

Groups of 20 or so people in very authentic looking 1916 uniforms suddenly appeared all over the UK, talking amongst themselves and occasionally singing "we're here because we're here because we're here..." very little interaction with the public except for handing out post cards with the name and details of a soldier killed on July 1st 1916

It was almost like a window had opened up through time and you were seeing troops ready to move off to France

Incredibly effective and deeply moving

My humble and inadequate thanks to those that took part and those that dreamt up the idea

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A very moving tribute.

My grandfather [Mam's side] was a casualty of the Great War but his name is not on any memorial. Before and after photos show a changed man and he took his own life a few years later when Mam was just eight.

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My father left university at the end of 1915. He was then a young officer in the Northumberland fusiliers and was in the battle of the SOmme.. In late 1917 he transfered to the Royal Flying Corps as an observer on 18 squadron( DH 4) where he won the DFC for flying on a particulalry dangerous, low level photo mission. He was officially credited with six German aircraft.. In 1918 he was  on his last mission before going for pilot training when he was shot down and badly wounded.

He was one of the few who would actually talk abot it all, especially the RFC days. so I got quite an insite into those events. I will say that it did scar him mentally in certain ways.

Edited By Peter Miller on 02/07/2016 14:18:52

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25793 Private James Walters enlisted on 3 May 1915 and gave his date of birth as 15/09/1896, 18 years and 139 days, (He took three years off, actually 15/09/1899) His father is listed as deceased. On 20 May 1915 he was sent to 3rd reserve battalion Sherwood Foresters for training. He was posted to 9th battalion Sherwood Foresters on 18 September 1915 although the actual date he arrived on Gallipoli would have been on 10th October 1915.

Re-enforcements left 3rd battalion on 13th September, arriving at Devonport on 14th. The transport ship Aeneas sailed on 15th arriving at Gibraltar on 19th. They arrived at Malta on 23rd and left the following day for Mudros on Lemnos, arriving on 27th September. An attempt was made to sail to Gallipoli on 9th October but rough seas forced the ship back. Eventually the men arrived at Suvla Bay on 10th October. James spent 3 months on Gallipoli followed by 6 months in Egypt

. In late June they moved to France and the Arras sector. The 8th South Staffordshire's had suffered high losses during the first few days of July and therefore on 9th July, 223 men from the 9th battalion Sherwood Foresters were loaned to 8th South Staff's on the Somme. On 9th August 1916 the 8th South Staff's were ordered to relieve the Border Regiment in the front line trenches and by 4 am the relief was complete.

Whilst the relief was in progress, reports came through that two platoons of 'B' company had been buried in a trench, which had been destroyed by a minnenwerfer (Trench Mortar). By 5.40 pm first casualty reports came in with one officer and eighteen other ranks wounded and three other ranks killed. By 6 pm, the figure had risen to thirteen other ranks killed, forty seven wounded and five missing. James was one of the dead and he was quickly wrapped in a blanket and buried by his pals.

After the armistice Delville Wood cemetery was made and graves from a number of battlefield cemeteries were concentrated, one of these men being James. His mother had been working to get her underage son out of the army or at least sent home until his 18th birthday. She had given his birth certificate to the army but to late to save her son. She visited his grave once in the 1930's.

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A story of standards as much as anything. I am the youngest son of a youngest daughter, so generations are long. My grandfather was a boy soldier in the Zulu war, in the 41st Foot, South Wales Borderers. When he left he became a miner in the Rhonda valley, and became a roofer, the bloke who makes sure the roof stays put, I believe an appointment by the miners, to a man you trust.

He was recalled in the First World War, to provide expertise to dig bunkers and mine tunnels.

In 1919, when released, the snow was deep in the Rhonda. He was permitted back in the house when he had bathed and deloused himself in the yard. Welcome back to a man way beyond youth.

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My grandfather's cousin, who has the same name as me, was in Canada when the war broke out. He joined the Canadian army on 29th December 1914 and was sent to the artillery because he had already served four years in the Royal Field Artillery, probably in a Territorial unit. I know this because the Canadians put their attestation papers on line and that was where I found out that he already had some experience as a gunner.

He was promoted to "Bombardier," the artillery's equivalent of a corporal in the infantry but he was killed on 3rd November 1916, towards the end of the Battle of the Somme. He was asleep, probably in a captured German dugout when a shell killed him and twelve of his comrades. He is buried in Pozieres British Cemetery alongside three or four of his gunner comrades who were killed the same day. Perhaps the remainder were too badly mutilated to be identified.

In those days when a boy was killed his relatives would write a letter to the press containing a brief biography. of the lad. A letter was duly printed in the Western Mail purporting to come from his uncle, a Mr H. Davies, but we had no Mr H. Davies in the family at the time. He was the son of a single mother, Miss Hannah Davies but such was the stigma against illegitimacy in those days that she could not acknowledge that she was the mother of a man who had died fighting for freedom and democracy.

He was twenty-nine years old.

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This morning we went into Bradford to be at the opening of an exhibition, because one of the exhibits was by a craft group my wife belongs to. (I also helped with a bit of gluing and drilling and wire bending.)

The exhibition, 'Threads of War' relates to WWI, the Somme, and the textile related history of Bradford.

Most of the exhibits were creations that directly addressed WW1. One, designed using pictures painted by schoolkids on the theme 'Poppies', was a rag 'peggy' rug. Memories of peggy rugs anyone? I have my own! Another was based upon "Pack up your troubled in your old kit bag". The contents of the kit bag were recreated in textiles. There was bully beef, hard tack, a first aid kit, a rat, a children's letter and a family photo. Then there was a song sheet for 'Silent Night.' - only the words were there in both English and German.

Two things brought us back to the present. One was the exhibit that I had helped with. The Craft Group makes things for three charities. They make blankets and warm clothing for refugee camps. They make clothes for 'Fish and Chip babies'. These are babies born into such poverty that their mothers have nothing to wrap them in, and have to use discarded newspaper.

The third charity is "Teddies for Tragedy". In tragic situations children may have lost everything, parents, family, home, and all possessions. "And then," to quote the wording on the display, "Someone folds your arms around a bag with a knitted teddy bear poking out of the top. You hang on to it, now you have something to hold, and time passes, someone to love, someone who will always be there for you. He is the beginning of normality."

Back to the present again - the exhibition was opened by Bradford's Lord Mayor. He made a moving speech. He contrasted the current political chaos with the better side of politics - people who go into politics to make things better for others. He reminded us of one such politician, Jo Cox, who showed just that sort of ethical approach. Of course, she was killed for doing so.

Plummet

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Posted by Donald Fry on 02/07/2016 18:18:49:

My grandfather was a boy soldier in the Zulu war, in the 41st Foot, South Wales Borderers.

Possibly off topic but for historical accuracy, the South Wales Borderers (my father's regiment) were the 24th Foot.

At the time of the Zulu wars, the 24th Regiment of Foot were the 2nd. Warwickshires and were renamed SWB in 1881.

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Curious that you should mention the SWBs Tony. My maternal grandfather served with them from 1901 to 1909 then walked from Shrewsbury to Brecon in 1913 to re-enlist. He was a married man with two small children by then so times must have been very bad for him to have walked so far just to get a private soldier's pay. He was wounded four times in the Great War and was awarded the Military Medal in November 1918.

After the war he was almost sacked from his job for participating as a trade union convenor in the General Strike of 1926.

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Yes we should honour the dead, but we should also look to hold the men or women that sit in a safe place that send you or your kin to death.

the decision makers should by default have a son or daughter sent to the front line, not a far off protected war office job, pretending to aid the war effort.

I am Aussie and Aussies lost their fittest and most virile men to many wars. It is a disgrace on decision makers.

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On 1st July 1916 19,240 soldiers of the British Army and the Newfoundland Regiment were killed. An artist in Exeter has made 19,240 figurines,representing each man who fell. They are about a foot tall (30cms,) and they have been displayed in a local park, each figurine covered in a shroud.The job of covering them was carried out by volunteer labour. I hope the link works, if not just try googling, "Shrouds of the Somme."

Shrouds of the Somme.

The Newfoundland Regiment, the only non-British unit committed, suffered more than any of the battalions which went over the top on that day. They started out with 760 men. When the roll call was taken that evening, only 68 men were there to answer their names. 324 had been killed, 368 wounded.

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