MEMORIES OF MY GRANDFATHER

I was looking at my granda’s army discharge documents the other day.  One that was dated 1906 was a beautiful document printed on parchment, the others from 1916 and 1920 were on thin paper, possibly the result of First World War shortages.  I could still visualise the man.

Anyone seeing him in the street would immediately recognise him as a former lone serving regular soldier.  He was still ramrod straight despite being in his late seventies.  Occasionally he would begin to stoop, then immediately straighten into a regimental stance, befitting a former Northumberland Fusilier.

He brought me up on stories of the Edwardian and First World War British Army form an early age.  Later he instructed me in foot drill and square bashing in the backyard.  Next it was rifle drill and bayonet fighting with broom shanks.  All this early training and the discipline that he instilled into me proved beneficial to me in my own military career when I joined the Royal Marines.

Granda belonged to that generation of British soldiers who had had a hard childhood, which proved of benefit in the trench fighting of the First World War.

In common with his comrades, he had the belief that the British army was the best army in the world, that his regiment was the best regiment in that army, that his company was the best one in the regiment and that he was the best soldier in his company.

How could the Kaiser and all his cohorts ever hope to defeat these determined, hard-bitten, steady steadfast and loyal men.