There are hundreds and hundreds of online resources to help you learn more about the First World War and the soldiers that fought in it, indeed, if you want an (almost) exhaustive list of all military research websites, then check out my interactive pdf which lists, links to, and describes thousands of very useful websites…

However, there are half a donzen or so websites that personally, I keep coming back to time and time again when I am researching WW1 heroes..over time, I will share with you my fave WW1 websites…(in no particular order). First up is the Commonwealth War Graves.

Commonwealth War Graves Commission  www.cwgc.org

This free online resource is simple to use and brilliant for tracking down those soldiers who died in both World Wars. The Debt of Honour Register is a database of about 1.7 million (count them) men and women the Commenwealth who died, as well as the 20,000 plus cemeteries and memorials where they are commemorated. There is also 67,000 civilian dead on the register.

Searches are carried out by surname, and can be refined by adding initials, years of death, nationality and which force served in. Once you hit the ‘go’ button you will then see a list of hits in tabular form noting name, rank, regiment, date of death, age and grave/memorial reference. When you find your chap, you can click on his name and more information such as any gallantry medals, next of kin, and the important unit information is also shown. You can print out a ‘certificate’ which gives you all this information on one page which is a nice touch…

cwgc - search results

However, the site is not just about the register, there are good online learning areas, specifically on the Battle of the Somme, Ypres and the German Offensive of 1918. There is also a new North Africa (1940-1943) area which is very good.

A related site is the War Graves Photographic Project (http://twgpp.org) which aims to hold a photographic record of every Commission head stone and memorial.

Adolf Hitler’s war record is to be published at the ancestry.co.uk archive. The website is to publish thousands of WWI documents detailing the full military careers of troops that were based in the south east of Germany. They include details of the then 25-year-old volunteer Lance Corporal Adolf Hitler, who was described as a Catholic and an artist. The records also show that he was a bike messenger for his regiment, whose role was to carry messages back and forth from the command staff to the units near the battlefield.

It is not confirmed, but it may also give details of how he won his Iron Cross First Class, a source of great pride to him throughout his life.

Hitler aside, this is a great opportunity for those UK families with German ancestry to discover these particular relatives, after all, the majority of the soldiers from the German Army didn’t want to fight any more than the British Tommy, they were just following orders and doing what they thought was right.

The double Victoria Cross awarded to Captain Noel Chavasse during WW1 has been sold privately to Lord Ashcroft for a reported £1.5million.

The VC and Bar was sold by St. Peter’s College, Oxford which was founded in 1929 by Captain Chavasse’s father, the Reverend Francis Chavasse, and had been gifted the medals decades before by the Chavasse family.

These medals will no doubt be the star exhibits at the Lord Ashcroft Gallery at the Imperial War Museum which will house Lord Ashcroft’s VC collection, as well as 50 other VC’s from the Museum’s own collection.

Captain Noel Chavasee was the medical officer attached to the 10th (Liverpool Scottish) Battalion, The King’s (Liverpool)Regiment during the First World War and was the only man to be awarded 2 VC’s in this conflict.

Chavasse was first awarded the VC for his actions on 9 August, 1916, at Guillemont, when he attended to the wounded all day under heavy fire.

On 30th July 1916, The battalion was moved into the Somme battlefield near Mametz. The plan was for the battalion to be in reserve for an attack on Guillemont on 31st, but they were never used. The next week for the men was spent digging communication trenches. On 7th August, the battalion received orders to take part in an assault on Guillemont at 4:20am on the 8th. The battalion was part of 166th brigade and was again in reserve. The attack by 164th and 165th brigades was successful on the right but in the middle and left, it was held up. The Liverpool Irish in 164th Brigade appeared to be cut off near the railway station. The 166th were ordered to attack at 4:20am the following morning. The preparation for the attack didn’t go well. The guides failed to turn up, and while waiting for fresh guides, they were caught in German shelling which caused casualties. Eventually the guides arrived but they only had the vaguest idea of the route. The battalion reached the jumping off trenches with only minutes to spare.

The attack was to be made past Trones Wood and Arrowhead Copse to capture the German front line trench and on into Guillemont. The attack started under a German bombardment of the trenches and no-mans-land. Heavy machine gun fire swept Death Valley and pinned down the attackers. In all four attempts were made by the battalion but all without success. The failed attack cost the Liverpool Scottish dear, out of a starting complement of twenty officers and about 600 men, five officers were killed, five were missing and seven wounded. Of the men, sixty nine were killed, twenty seven missing and 167 wounded. This attack was made over the same ground that 30th Division which incorporated 89th Brigade attacked on 30th July, 1916 with enormous casualties. 89th Brigade was manned with three Battalions of the Liverpool Pals. The Scottish must have known the men who lay so thickly on the ground over the ground they were attacking. What this did to their morale does not need any explaining.

During the action, Noel was wounded by two small shell splinters in his back, despite this, he performed the deeds that were to gain him his first VC. The evening of the attack saw Noel and a party of volunteers in no-mans-land helping bring in wounded men. He got as close 25 yards (23 metres) to the German front line where he found three men. This went on all night and throughout all this, a constant rain of snipers bullets and occasional bombing swept no-mans-land.

The battalion went back to a rest area at Valines west of Abbeville, Noel was granted sick leave to recover from his wound. He rejoined his battalion on 7th September near Delville Wood. Back in the thick of the fighting, he was again out rescuing men and treating those brought in to his Casualty Clearing Station. In early October Bishop Chavasse received a letter from Lord Derby which despite being “absolutely forbidden by War Office Rules” he informed the Bishop that “one of your sons in the RAMC attached to the Liverpool Territorials” had been forwarded to him and he “had the honour of forwarding his name to His Majesty for the bestowal of this magnificent Order (the V.C.) and I cannot tell you how pleased I was to do so”. The Bishop wrote immediately to Noel who replied (with some scepticism) “.. till I see it in print I will not believe”. He told no one else in the battalion.

The battalion moved from the Somme back to the Ypres Salient in the Weiltje sector, it was even more battered and grim than he remembered it. By this time, news started to reach the battalion of awards following the action at Guillemont. Two of Noel’s stretcher bearers had been awarded the Distinguished Service Medal and two more the Military Medal then on 26th October, 1916 the London Gazette announced that Noel Godfrey Chavasse MC, RAMC had indeed been awarded the Victoria Cross. The Scottish received the news on 28th October and a celebration ensued, the officers held a dinner for Noel in a chateau at Elverdinghe. The citation in the London Gazette read:

Captain Noel Godfrey Chavasse, M.C., M.B., Royal Army Medical Corps.

For most conspicuous bravery and devotion to duty.

During an attack he tended the wounded in the open all day, under heavy fire, frequently in view of the enemy. During the ensuing night he searched for wounded on the ground in front of the enemy’s lines for four hours.

Next day he took one stretcher-bearer to the advanced trenches, and under heavy shell fire carried an urgent case for 500 yards into safety, being wounded in the side by a shell splinter during the journey. The same night he took up a party of twenty volunteers, rescued three wounded men from a shell hole twenty-five yards from the enemy’s trench, buried the bodies of two Officers, and collected many identity discs, although fired on by bombs and machine guns.

Altogether he saved the lives of some twenty badly wounded men, besides the ordinary cases which passed through his hands. His courage and self-sacrifice, were beyond praise.

Chavasse’s second award was made during the period 31 July to 2 August 1917, at Wieltje, during the Third Battle of Ypres (Passchedaele).

The offensive was scheduled to start on 25th July but due to several factors, it was delayed until 31st July. On 20th July, The Scottish moved away from their training camp and back to the familiar ground at Weiltje. The preliminary bombardment for the offensive had already started and the Germans replied by shelling the roads and communication trenches which caused 9 deaths in the battalion as they moved up to the front line. Mustard Gas and high explosive shelling caused a further 145 casualties in the next few days. On the 24th July, the battalion were relieved and they moved back to make good their losses. On the 29th July, they battalion moved forward to its assembly positions, ominously, the fine weather now broke and the rain, which was to turn the battlefield into the infamous quagmire, started. Noel, moved into the dugout at Weiltje. This was no simple scrape but an excavation large enough to hold several hundred men and deep enough to be safe from artillery. It even had its own generator to supply power for lighting and more importantly, water pumps.

The attack started at 3:50 am on 31st July. The Scottish were by this time already in open ground and made good progress towards their first objective and they pushed on towards the Steenbeek, a stream that crossed their route. As they crossed it, they were held up by uncut wire in front of them and by heavy machine gun fire from Capricorn Trench. One of the two tanks detailed to aid in the assault came up at 7am and despite being put out of action very quickly by three direct hits from a German field gun, it managed to break through the wire and by 7:45am all the battalion’s objectives had been taken. Noel had moved his aid post forward with the attack and set it up in a captured German dug out at Setques Farm. The area was subjected to intensive German fire but he stayed put. The dugout was small and it served only as a patching up station before the wounded were sent further back Noel had been injured in the head by a shell splinter as he stood up and waved to indicate the position of his aid post. It is possible he suffered a fractured skull in this incident. After being dressed at the Weiltje dug out, Noel returned, despite advice to stay put, to his aid post. His stretcher bearers had been busy and Noel was very busy until sundown. As night fell Noel picked up his torch and went searching the wrecked landscape for survivors, it was raining again by this time.

Early the following day, Noel found himself a German captive who was a medic and the two of them worked hard to treat wounded men in the impossible conditions of mud, blood and water. Noel went to the door of the dugout to call in the next man when a shell flew past him and down the stairs, killing the man who was waiting to be carried away by the Field Ambulance. Details get very confused at this point, Noel may have received another wound but he carried on. The official history of the Liverpool Scottish has it that Noel was wounded twice more in the head. One stretcher bearer had been sent to the aid post to tell Noel to return. Despite intense pain, “The Doc refused to go and told us to take another man instead”. There is no doubt that at about 3am in the morning of Thursday 2nd August, 1917, another shell entered the aid post, Noel was sitting in a chair trying to get some sleep. Everyone in the aid post was either killed or seriously wounded. Noel had received four or five wounds, the worst being a gaping abdominal wound from which he bled profusely. He managed to crawl up the stairs and out of the dug out and crawled along the (flooded, muddy) “road” until he stumbled across a dugout occupied by Lt. Charles Wray of the Loyal North Lancs Regiment who sent for help and later sent an account to his local paper.

Noel was sent to Casualty Clearing Station No. 32 at Brandhoek, which specialised in abdominal wounds. He was operated on immediately and after all the shell splinters had been removed he was patched up. He regained consciousness and he spoke to a Colonel Davidson who reported “He seems very weak but spoke cheerfully”. It was not to be a happy ending however as Noel died peacefully at 1pm on Saturday 4th August, 1917. Three years to the day since the outbreak of the war.

The Citation for the second award read:

The award was announced in the London Gazette on 14th September, 1917. It read:

Though severely wounded early in the action whilst carrying a wounded soldier to the dressing station, he refused to leave his post, and for two days, not only continued to perform his duties, but in addition, went out repeatedly under heavy fire to search for and attend to the wounded who were lying out. During these searches, although practically without food during this period, worn with fatigue and faint with his wound, he assisted to carry an number of badly wounded men over heavy and difficult ground. By his extraordinary energy and inspiring example was instrumental in rescuing many wounded who would have otherwise undoubtedly succumbed under the bad weather conditions. This devoted and gallant officer subsequently died of his wounds.

Captain Chavasse is buried in Brandhoek’s New Military Cemetery. His grave (Plot 3, Grave B15) has had several memorials over the years, the current headstone was erected on 28th April 1981. It is the only headstone in the world to have two Victoria Crosses engraved on it. The inscription “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” was selected by his father. This cemetary is looked after by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission who do such a wonderful job in many countries of the world.

aptain Noel Godfrey Chavasse, M.C., M.B., Royal Army Medical Corps.For most conspicuous bravery and devotion to duty.

During an attack he tended the wounded in the open all day, under heavy fire, frequently in view of the enemy. During the ensuing night he searched for wounded on the ground in front of the enemy’s lines for four hours.

Next day he took one stretcher-bearer to the advanced trenches, and under heavy shell fire carried an urgent case for 500 yards into safety, being wounded in the side by a shell splinter during the journey. The same night he took up a party of twenty volunteers, rescued three wounded men from a shell hole twenty-five yards from the enemy’s trench, buried the bodies of two Officers, and collected many identity discs, although fired on by bombs and machine guns.

Altogether he saved the lives of some twenty badly wounded men, besides the ordinary cases which passed through his hands. His courage and self-sacrifice, were beyond praise.

Yesterday I visited the Auschwitz-Birkenau extermination camp, about 50km west of Krakow, Poland. It is a place I have always wante to visit, indeed it is a place, that personally, I have told myself I must visit, owing to the significant historical and humanitaria (or lack of it) story that the site has to tell.

Our visit (I went with a small group of like minded friends) started at 10am in the main ‘mother camp’ Auschwitz I. It is this camp that has the iconic gate with the infamous motto ‘Arbeit mach frei’ (Work makes free). The original gate is still there, along with the barrier and ‘halt’ signage. Standing under that sign, and knowing I was about to enter one of the most tortured places in Europe, if not the world, did send a shiver down the spine…

Arbeit Mach Frei - Auschwitz I

We were lucky enough to have a supremely knowledgable tour guide to take us around both Auschwitz I and Auschwitz-Birkenau. His knowledge and wisdom really did bring the whole place to life.

Auschwitz I is a living museum. It is still very much in tact as it was in the 1940’s. Many of the original baracks have been transformed into exhibitions about various aspects of camp life: for example working conditions, sanitary conditions and punishment. There is also the original crematorium (Crematorium I) that has still survived. This particular structure resembles an air raid shelter (because that is what is was used for after the construction of the huge gas chambers/crematorium of Auschwitz II).  Walking into this crematorium, standing in the exact same place where thousands of people were gassed, looking up to the roof to see the holes where the zyklon B was poured in by the SS guards and then seeing the furnaces that burned the bodies is something that will stay with me forever.

Block 11 of Auschwitz I is the ‘prison within a prison’ where any inmate who fell foul of the numerous camp regulations would end up. This was (and still is) a particularly brutal place, for me it was the standing cells that hit home. These were tiny cells (about 1.5m square) with a metal hatch at the bottom where the prisoners climbed in. Upto 8 (yes, eight) prisoners were confined in each cell, squashed right up against eachother – with absolutely no choice but to stand up all night. Ventilation was offered by a tiny hole in the wall, it must have been hell. Image standing in one of these concrete cells all night, pitch black, squashed against 7 other stinking souls, no ventilation, no air, then, when morning comes you go to work – hard manual labour for 12-15 hours, then back in to the standing cell for another tortuous night. Some inmates suffered this for a whole week. Brutal. Unimaginable to you or I. Next door to block 11 is the execution yard, with its wall of death where thousands of prisoners were executed at the whim of the camp SS guards, or strung up with their arms behind their back on wooden posts – which still survive today.

Execution Courtyard - Auschwitz I

For me the most distressing part of the whole tour was learning about the individual stories and seeing the evidence of inmates…One room has a display of suitcases – thousands and thousands of suitcases, all with the name and address of the owner painted on them. Our guide pointed out a few names and told us the stories about the people behind the names…a girl of 3, a baby boy of 1, teenagers, pensioners, veterans of WW1…all exectued on arrival. Then there was the huge pile of shoes (the exhibit was about 20m long and 3 or 4m high…just think about that for a second..thousands upon thousands of shoes. There were other similar exhibits, pots and pans, a mountain of spectacles, then the one that did it for me…..an enourmous mountain of human hair – womens hair. There is approximately 7 tonnes of hair in this one exhibit, evidently that is about 140,000 people. All the hair was grey, caused by the passing of time, apart from one lock which was still vibrantly red.

The hair from one hundred and forty thousand women. You can clearly see the plats, curls etc…until you have seen such a thing it is difficult to imagine, but let me tell you it is a harrowing, harrowing site. It becomes even more distressing when you realise these items are just a tiny fraction of the total that was generated in this camp. These were only the items that were discovered by the Russians in 1945. The vast vast majority of hair had been sent to manufacturers in Bavaria and Germany to make items such as blankets/uniforms for the war effort.

Suitcases of prisoners

A short drive to Auschwitz-Birkenau and we were face to face with that guard tower and that railway track…seeing it in the flesh kinda knocks the wind out of you. Trying to comprehend how many trainloads of people passed the very spot you are standing straight to their death is simply not possible for my little feeble brain. It is not until you see Birkenau for yourself you understand the sheer scale of the place. It is enourmous. There isnt much left of it now: the crematoria were destroyed by the SS in 1945 and the majoity of the wooden barracks were destroyed by a mixture of the SS and Russian army. However, the brick chimneys/heating system of each hut is still there and acts as a kind of individual memorial for those poor souls that lived, suffered and died in each of the barracks.

Auschwitz-Birkenau

Tracing the route of the railway line you come to the siding where the selection process took place. It was here where the SS Doctors decided the fate of the prisoners. Those they thought could work were sent to the camps, those who were too old, too young, or disabled were sent straight to the gas chambers. We traced those tragic footsteps – 380 metres from the siding to crematorium 2 – silent in our own thoughts.

Earlier this month I was lucky enough to cycle in the footsteps of heroes whilst cycling the WW1 Western Front. Now, I was walking in the shadows of death.

Ruins of the gas chamber: Crematorium II

Several months ago I posted a question on Linkedin about the ruins of the Crematoria in Auschwitz-Birkenau. I asked whether they should be preserved or left to rot as nature intended. My gut feeling at the time was to keep them and preserve them as much as possible. By preserve I dont mean rebuild, but try to stop the natural erosion of the relics. The online discussion was very intense with many people having strong opinions one way or another. After visiting the site my view is now equally as strong. We have to preserve as much as we can. We have to teach future generations of the awful atrocities that were carried out at Auschwitz with the hope that they learn from the mistakes of the past.

Forgetting is not an option.

 

 

Another early start on the 10th as we tried to get out of Lens and head north (and across the border) to Ypres. Getting out of Lens wasn’t particularly easy or pleasant…but we got there in the end and headed out into the country, which, thankfully was largely flat. We passed through some sites of famous battles: Neuve Chapelle, Aubers, Fromelles, Ploegsteert, Messines (with a most wonderful Irish memorial on top of the ridge) and Wijtschate..the nearer we got to Ypres, the more memorials and the more cemeteries we passed..a true sign of the horror of the 3 huge battles that were fought here during the Great War.

Just outside la Basee, Steve got a puncture, but thankfully it was a quick fix…my bike seemed to be doing ok and I was doing my best to nurse it through these final couple of days. However a couple of miles down the road I also got a puncture…another easy fix hopefully but it was not to be. My tyre kept going down and I kept pumping it up – I had to keep as much air in the tyre as possible to keep the pressure of the badly damaged rim (remember the lack of spokes…) It lasted until a couple of miles outside of Ypres but I got another puncture…

We walked the last couple of miles into the main town. Ypres itself is a wonderful place…it is similar to Verdun in some respects with its large walls and ramparts.. The cloth hall is one of the most impressive buildings I have ever seen, especially as it was largely destroyed by artillery fire. Walking through Ypres to the north we passed through the Menin Gate Memorial to the Missing - what an amazing piece of architecture. With almost 55,000 names of soldiers who fought and died on the Ypres battlefields but do not have a know grave it is as sad as it is breathtaking.

Designed by Sir Reginald Blomfield, this memorial combines the architectural images of a classical victory arch and a mausoleum and it contains, inside and out, huge panels into which are carved the names of the 54,896 officers and men of the commonwealth forces who died in the Ypres Salient area and who have no known graves. This figure, however, does not represent all of the missing from this area. It was found that the Menin Gate, immense though it is, was not large enough to hold the names of all the missing. The names recorded on the gate’s panels are those of men who died in the area between the outbreak of the war in 1914 and 15th August, 1917. The names of a further 34,984 of the missing – those who died between 16th August, 1917 and the end of the war, are recorded on carved panels at Tyne Cot Cemetery, on the slopes just below Passchendaele.

The Menin Gate is not a memorial tucked away in some remote part of the town, remembered now and then. The Menin Road is still an important thoroughfare and traffic and pedestrians pass under the gate as part of the daily life of Ypres. In this aspect alone, Remembrance is kept very much alive in Ypres, but there is more.

Every night of the year, without exception, policemen close the road to traffic at 8.00 p.m. and then stand at the salute while buglers from the Ypres Fire Brigade play “The Last Post”. This happens whatever the weather and there is always someone there to watch. The people living near the Menin Gate often open their doors and stand on their doorsteps to join in this daily act of Remembrance in honour of the young and brave who came from all over the world to die in the defence of their town.

Our hotel was not in Ypres ( I couldnt get a room for lest than 200 quid – something to do with Remembrance Day!) but in Menen, which for me was great because it meant an opportunity to cycle down the infamous Menin Road via Hellfire Corner and past the Hooge Crater. We continued to walk (I had a puncture remember) as we thought the hotel wasnt too far out of Ypres, but it soon turned out it was almost 10 miles, so we stopped and tried yet again some emergency puncture repair action on my poor old wheel. To say it was a pain in the arse is a huge understatement. The design of my back wheel makes getting the tyre back on after a repair a real mission – so much so that in the course of trying to lever the tyre onto the rim caused more punctures…twice. And broke 2 plastic tyre levers. Tensions and tempers were rising but the damn wheel was not going to beat us – we finally got the wheel back on and flew down the menin road to our hotel. It was a Best Western and probably the nicest hotel we had stayed at on the trip..

Next morning (11th) we rose early and rode back down the Menin Road to Ypres. We arrived at 10am and there was already a crowd gathering at the Menin Gate. We were in good time though and made sure we got good positions. The Remembrance Ceremony was fantastic with the Last Post being played at 11am followed by a minute silence. Standing in the shadows of that great memorial, hearing the haunting tunes of the last post, and seeing the huge wreaths being laid by various dignatories of the UK and the Commenwealth was an amazing, humbling, emotional experience…we had done it. We had cycled the line and got to Ypres for Remembrance Day…

 

For The Fallen (Laurence Binyon)
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England’s foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

Sorry for the delay in blogging, I have had trouble trying to connect with hotel wi-fi systems…

We set off from Albert early doors and headed north across the old killing grounds of 1916. The mist was heavy on the ground and gave an eery atmosphere as we crossed the open fields and pock-marked ground of the Somme. Our first stop was the Lochnager mine crater which was just awe inspring. It is still about 40 metres wide, almost 100 years after being made…Next stop was even more inspiring. The Thiepval Memorial to the Missing. This monument is 45metres high and is simply jaw-dropping in both its sheer size, and what it represents: 73,000 soldiers and officers killed during the Battle of the Somme but who were denied the dignity of having a known grave…

We carried on north through the battlefield..the mist finally cleared and the sun came out to say hello…we made good progress and saw many memorials and cemeteries along the way..the hills kept coming and we saw lots of shells along the roadside..Steve picked one of these ‘le bombs’ up and strapped it to his bike to take home.

We finally came into Lens  via a motorway which we really shouldn’t have been on…imagine cycling on the M4 and you get the idea, it wasn’t a good experience! (Lens is a shit hole by the way..terrible place full of immigrants) and luckily found our hotel without too much trouble, without any more motorways…

By the way…still got pins n needles in my arm from that ruddy car!!

A relatively hassle free day upto Lens…next stop Ypres!!

Although the trip so far has been great, it is now, as we approach the Somme region and the areas of British involvement in the war that things start getting really interesting (for me at least). So, I was excited at the prospect of cycling upto Albert today. Albert is practically in the centre of the Somme battlefield and is synonymous with the British Tommy.

We set off at about 10am after a nice petit-dejuner the rain threatened but stayed away and we made good progress..After about 10 miles Steve asked me if he had a buckled wheel, to which I said yes, about 50 yards later his back wheel exploded with a loud bang! That was the end of the wheel, we were about 10km from the next town (Peronne) so we walked and hoped that we would find a supermarche that stocked innertubes and wheels.

The walk was long, and, ironically it was flat..the first 10miles or so out of St. Quentin had been hilly and tough going…  As I was minding my own business walking by the side of the road (county lane with no pavements) I got hit by a Fiat Panda. It’s wing mirror smacked into my elbow and I will be honest…it hurt like hell. The car stopped 20 metres down the road and out hobbled some old Frenchie with a bad limp and no teeth. Now, I dont mind old peeps, but it is my opinion is that when you get to a certain age you should stop driving, for the good of your fellow people…and this guy was way past this age. I was pretty pissed off and started shouting at him asking him in very plain anglo-saxon what the blazers he thought he was doing driving into me…He obviously didnt speak a word of anglo-saxon as none of my insults made an impression. So I just shrugged him off after he said ‘pardon monsiuer’ and trudged off down the road cursing. To be fair though, it was probably difficult for him to see me on the road, it was a dead straight road, in the middle of a sunny afternoon, and I was only wearing a white high-visability jacket…so I do feel sorry for the old git. Sorry, French, garlic crunching, old git. I have still got pins and needles in my arm…

After a couple of hours we got to Peronne and found a huge supermarket which stocked what was needed, and within half an hour of arrival we were back on the firm. We had 20 miles or so to go and a couple of hours of daylight left, so we needed to get a wiggle on.

We made good progress and as we got nearer to Albert there were more and more signs of fighting…a few shells scattered along the roadside, various pieces of land that were still visibily scarred with shell craters – even after 90 plus years, and then eventually we found a British military cemetery along the side of the road. Seeing those graves is a humbling experience and brings home why we are doing this trip. The next few miles on the bike were quiet, the  fact that there were still loads of hills didn’t really matter anymore…

The nearer were got to Albert the more cemeteries were saw, we stopped off at another one – the Devonshire Cemetery where we saw the grave of a VC winner: 12639 Pte J MIller, Royal Lancaster Regiment. While at this cemetery I checked my bike over to make sure everything was ok, and found that I had another spoke broken…not good news.

We road a few more miles, but to save the bike I walked the last couple to the hotel. Tomorrow is a rest day in Albert, the plan is to take a hire car and visit a few of the memorials and museums, as well as try and find a bike shop! Should be an interesting day…

With crossed fingers we set out at 9am from Reims with St. Quentin, and the British sector of the line, in our sights. We set out at a steady pace and I kept a close eye on the bike to make sure it was in good shape…however, today it wasn’t my bike that began to play up…Just 4 miles down the road a link came apart on Steve’s chain…another blow to our chances of finishing. He had a go at fixing it by the roadside but was not confident that the fix would last the trip. We needed a bike shop or a large supermarket to pick up supplies.

We carried on at a steady pace to save both bikes..there was neither supermarket or bike shop anywhere in sight. So we kept on. Mercifully the sun was shining and it was dry with only a light wind, however the rolling French countryside kept throwing damn big hills in our way and the Frenchie lorries were doing their best to push us off the road..so the first 30 miles were not the easiest.

We managed to find a Carre-Four but, guess what, it was closed…well it was 2pm, of course it was closed, it was stupid of us to even think a major supermarket would be open in the middle of the afternoon..We waited patiently for the nice manager to finish his stinky cheese and vin rouge and bowled in for a) some lunch, and b) some bike kit…we managed to get lunch, but no luck on the bike front…so we carried on.

The hills kept coming, the curses were getting louder and louder…why is France so bloody hilly! Finally we enjoyed some downhilliness and picked up our average speed, we were going to struggle to get to St. Quentin before dark. Eventually the route did flatten out, which was a good thing as it was less stressful on the bikes and slightly easier to pedal..we just kept moving on, ticking off the little villages as we passed them, stopping at a few memorials to take some pictures until finally we saw the magnificently impressive Basilica of St Quentin on the horizon. It really was a majestic site, lit up like a Xmas tree in the night sky, dominating all around. It was 75 miles to St Quentin. Thats a long way, in case you were wondering.

St. Quentin is a pretty place, it is easy to imagine it fully of British Tommies enjoying some precious time out of the line..it was very lively with lots of traffic buzzing around. Our hotel is right opposite the Basillica which is great. One thing is odd though, it is Friday night and yet it is completely quiet and empty..what do the Frenchies do on a Friday night? They dont go into town thats for sure..

Tomorrow is a shorter (hopefully) trip to Albert…bang in the middle of the Somme battlefield…can’t wait to finally cycle through the British sector of the line…

In case you were wondering, we are doing this cycle trip in aid of the Royal British Legion’s poppy appeal. You can donate online at www.justgiving.com/cyclingtheline

Bonfire night…and today the entire trip almost went bang on us.

Verdun to Reims was the planned trip today. 70 miles of open but mainly flat countryside should have been ok as long as the weather held up..We set off early and by 8.30am we were out of Verdun and out on the open road. Things were going well. The countryside surrounding the north of Verdun is as magnificent as it is sad. The land is littered with cemeteries and land still bears the marks of the savage fighting of early 1916 where the German army threatened to ‘Bleed France white’…

Then, 10.5 miles north of Verdun something bad happened. 4 spokes from my back wheel decided that they didn’t want to continue on the trip and snapped. The diagnosis wasn’t good, the bike couldn’t be ridden until some more spokes could be found…and in the middle of nowhere those spokes were not forthcoming.

The only option was to walk back to Verdun and try and find a place that sold spokes…so off we trudged, walking the 10 miles were had just ridden over..During that walk my heart sank so low…I was convinced that I was not going to be able to continue the ride…I started to think about how I would get home, and how I would face everyone having failed to complete the trip, those thoughts got me very depressed and I will be honest – I cried like a baby…it was a long long walk back to Verdun. Thankfully the rain was only very light, but the wind was still very strong and the walk was not fun. We found a supermarche but they didnt sell spokes, they did however sell spoke keys and so Steve set about trying to repair the spokes I did have and even took a few from the front wheel to put in the back one. It was freezing cold and the job was painful but he managed to replace 2 spokes. After a quick test drive in the carpark we then found out that Steve also had a puncture, so that needed to be repaired before we decided what to do next.

By this time it was gone 2pm. There was no way we could ride to Reims, and indeed we didn’t know if my bike could take the journey, so we decided to get the train. French trains are great – Mr Brown, pls take a few trips on the French railway system and make copious notes on how to improve our sorry national rail service.

We arrived in Reims about 6pm and then preceded to walk another 7 or 8 miles across town to our hotel.

So we have arrived at Reims, it is a very busy place with a remarkable cathedrale..we are off to St. Quentin tomorrow – 55 miles or so, I am not sure if the bike will make it to be honest, I will have to go careful with it, it could break at any moment and short of buying a new wheel or new bike (I went in to a bike shop in Reims only to be told to get out as they closed 3 minutes before) there will be no cure and it will be the Eurostar back to Blighty..

Fingers crossed for tomorrow let’s get this cycle ride back on track…

Day 4 of the cycle ride and our destination was the fortress city of Verdun. I was looking forward to getting to Verdun for two reasons, firstly it has huge significance for the First World War, and secondly, it meant we would finally get a rest day!

We set off from our Hotel Paradiso at about 9am but by the time we had stocked up on supplies it was nearer 10 before we got pedalling. The first 2 miles out of town were up a killer hill. I was expecting a long day and this was not the best start.. I didn’t really get much better either, the terrain was very hilly – we went through some wonderful countryside with tiny villages in valleys, but valleys been hills and that was not good. Also there was the weather. Gale force winds and torrential rain made things just miserable…At this point I think it is worthwhile to point out that Steve was wearing swimming trunks for the days cycling…red swimming trunks and a camouflage jacket…the mad fool.

The first 30 miles were tough…really tough, it seemed to be uphill all the time and the weather was appalling. We arrived at a place called Pont-a-Mousson around 1pm and in the space of 3 minutes were hit with a huge double whammy that nocked us both for 6…

First, I had to pay the best part of 5 Euros for 2 cokes…(did I swear or what). Then, no sooner had we finished hurling abuse at the cafe owner and got on our way that we say a signpost saying ‘Verdun – 69km! In proper distances that is about 40 miles…my heart sank.

Fortunately the road out of Pont-a-Mousson was flat and we made decent progress however our speed was severely hampered by the weather which was not letting up..by this point we resembled a couple of drowned rats..we stopped off at a small place and got some more supplies, including a small bottle of whiskey to warm us up a bit. Little did we know how grateful we would be for that whiskey later on..

We headed across open country for what seemed like eternity watching as the signposts slowly counted down the kilometers to Verdun. The light was fading fast and in a country where they seem to have forgotten about the street light, this was becoming an issue for us..

The hills reappeared again just as dusk fell, Steve’s back light lasted about 5 minutes before the rain got the better of it…luckily mine seemed to work ok…There was one hill that was too much so we had to get off and walk, I was about 50m behind steve and as he walked up to the top of the hill he was silhouetted against the the lights of the oncoming cars. which, mixed with the fog and rain, gave an eery yet poignant image reminiscent of a solitary soldier walking off to the front, it is an image I will not forget in a long time.

The last 10miles into Verdun were perhaps the longest 10 miles I have every had on a cycle, they were simply horrible. At the foot of the final hill I was so tired I just lay on the floor – I think I must have passed out momentarily until Steve shouted at me to get up and have some whiskey. It is that whiskey that got us up that final hill and into Verdun at about 7pm…We had done nearly 70miles, were freezing cold, soaking wet, and so very very tired..

There is something about a 7 minute long war epic that makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. Cut through the surface, ignore the pounding guitars and wailing vocals, delve deeper than the crash ending and you can feel the energy, sadness and torment of a world long gone. I often think that one of the best ways of conveying the important message of not forgetting the sacrifice made during the Great War to the younger generation is through music. I know for me when i was a kid when Metallica released the epic “One” a song about an ordianry soldier who survived a landmine blast although he had both arms and legs amputated. It really opened up my eyes to the personal pain – both physical and mental – many thousands of ordinary soldiers went through.

That was back in 1988, and in 2003 Iron Maiden released “Paschendaele” which for me is the best song about the War I have ever heard. It has a haunting tune and really takes you into the hell of the trenches. Lyrics such as “The sound of guns cant hide our shame, and so we die at Pashendaele” gives you a clue as to the songs attitude to the sheer waste of human life.

So there you have my first two recommendations for epic Great War Songs: “One” from Metallica and “Paschendaele” from Iron Maiden. Click on the links to see videos of the songs from YouTube.

I will add some more over the coming weeks/months. If anyone else has a suggestion then lets hear it!!

Now, I don’t often read The Sun newspaper, but on the train back from London yesterday I happened to spy a copy on the seat next to me and as i flicked through it i came across a remarkable story about Rifleman Donald McNair, a conscientious objector who was tricked into going to the front line when he answered “yes” when a tribunal asked if would defend his wife if she were attacked by a German. He survived the war and his letters were found in January by his son, now 84. A book has been published called a Pacifist at War based on his story.

I have never heard of anyone being “tricked” into the army it is an amazing story…If you can bear visiting the Sun’s website you can read it all there!

• Date of Institution: 1917
• Campaign: France & Belgium 1914
• Branch of Service: British Forces
• Metal: Bronze
• Size: Height 50mm; max width 45mm

Description: A crowned four-pointed star with crossed swords and a wreath of oak leaves, having the royal cypher at the foot and a central scroll inscribed AUG NOV 1914. Uniface, the naming being inscribed incuse on the plain reverse.

Clasps: 5th Aug.-22nd Nov. 1914. The clasp was sewn on to the ribbon of the medal. A silver rosette is worn on the ribbon strip if the bar was awarded.

Awarded to all those who had served in France and Belgium between 5th August and 22nd November 1914 . In 1919 King George V authorised a clasp bearing these dates for those who had actually been under fire during that period. The majority of the 365,622 recipients of the star were officers and men of the pre-war British Army, the ‘Old Contemptibles’ who landed in France soon after the outbreak of the War and who took part in the retreat from Mons, hence the popular nickname of ‘Mons Star’ by which this medal is often known. There were approximately 155,000 bars issued, as such this is the rarest campaign medal for the First World War.

Above description taken from The Medal Yearbook 2008, p181.

Recipients of the 1914 Star were not eligable for the 1914-15 Star, but were eligable for the British War Medal and Victory Medal.

1914 Star and Bar

It is amazing to think that today, November 11 2008 represents the 90th anniversary of the end of ‘the war to end all wars’.

Britain lost almost a million men during this war. A million sons. Think about that for a second when you are having a bad day because the fax machine is jammed.

For me, today is one of the most important days of the year. And I think it is testiment to this great country of ours, that with the passing of time, the shared emotion of rememberance seems to get stronger and stronger. As individuals, and as a nation we join together in remembering and thanking all those heros, not just in the First World War, but in the Second World War, The Falklands, Iraq, and all the other conflicts and battles. These guys lay down their lives for us so we can sleep peacefully at night, and for that I thank you.

The BBC as always have masses of information and ways of remembering. I urge you all to check out their webpages at http://www.bbc.co.uk/remembrance/

Also, the National Archives has made some of their fascinating audio records available through their ‘voices of the armistice’ project. These podcasts are free to listen to on their website, and includes a rendition of Haig’s war diary from 11.11.18, an account of a gas attack in May 1915 and extracts of the personal diary of Private Pattenden of 1st Battalion, Hampshire Regiment. Fascinating stuff.

They shall grow not 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.
Laurence Binyon (1869-1943)

More than any other conflict, the Great War inspired writers of all generations and classes, most notably among combatants.

Wilfred Edward Salter Owen (1893-1918) was an English poet and soldier, regarded by many as one of the leading poets of the First World War. His shocking, realistic war poetry on the horrors of trench warfare sat in stark contrast to both the public perception of war at the time, and to the confidently patriotic verse written earlier by war poets such as Rupert Brooke. Some of his best-known works-most of which were published posthumously-include Dulce Et Decorum Est, Insensibility, Anthem for Doomed Youth, Futility and Strange Meeting.

2nd Lt. Owen

He was on the Continent teaching until he visited a hospital for the wounded and then decided, in September, 1915, to return to England and enlist. “I came out in order to help these boys – directly by leading them as well as an officer can; indirectly, by watching their sufferings that I may speak of them as well as a pleader can. I have done the first” (October, 1918).

On 21 October 1915, he enlisted in the Artists’ Rifles. For the next seven months, he trained at Hare Hall Camp in Essex. In January 1917 he was commissioned as a second lieutenant with The Manchester Regiment. Owen started the war as a cheerful and optimistic man, but he soon changed forever. After traumatic experiences, which included leading his platoon into battle and getting trapped for three days in a shell-hole, Owen was diagnosed as suffering from shell shock and sent to Craiglockhart War Hospital in Edinburgh for treatment. It was whilst recuperating at Craiglockhart that he was to meet fellow poet Siegfried Sassoon, an encounter which was to transform Owen’s life.

After returning to the front, Owen led units of the Second Manchesters on 1 October 1918 to storm a number of enemy strong points near the village of Joncourt. He was killed in action on 4 November 1918, only one week before the end of the war. For his courage and leadership in the Joncourt action, he was posthumously awarded the Military Cross., the Citation of which appeared in the London Gazzette on 29.7.1919.

MC Citation for 2nd Lt. W. Owen

Owen is regarded by historians as the leading poet of the First World War, known for his war poetry on the horrors of trench and gas warfare. His great friend, the poet Siegfried Sassoon had a profound effect on Owen’s poetic voice, and Owen’s most famous poems (Dulce et Decorum Est and Anthem for Doomed Youth) show direct results of Sassoon’s influence.

Dulce et Decorum Est

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest 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
Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!– An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.–
Dim, through the misty panes 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, 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
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,–
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

The title and the Latin exhortation of the final two lines are drawn from a poem of Horace (Odes iii 2.13):[3]

“Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori:
mors et fugacem persequitur virum
nec parcit inbellis iuventae
poplitibus timidove tergo.”

“How sweet and fitting it is to die for one’s country:
Death pursues the man who flees,
spares not the hamstrings or cowardly backs
Of battle-shy youths.”
These words were well known and often quoted by supporters of the war near its inception and, as such, were of particular importance to soldiers of the era.

Anthem For Doomed Youth
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of girls’ brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

The bells were ringing on November 11, 1918, in Shrewsbury to celebrate the Armistice when the doorbell rang at his parent’s home, bringing them the telegram telling them their son was dead.

“My subject is war, and the pity of war. The poetry is in the pity.” – Owen.

Futility

Move him into the sun -
Gently its touch awoke him once,
At home, whispering of fields unsown.
Always it woke him, even in France,
Until this morning and this snow.
If anything might rouse him now
The kind old sun will know.

Think how it wakes the seeds, -
Woke, once, the clays of a cold star.
Are limbs, so dear-achieved, are sides,
Full-nerved – still warm, – too hard to stir?
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
- O what made fatuous sunbeams toil
To break earth’s sleep at all?

108-year-old, Ned Hughes, from Accrington has emerged as a possible fourth surviving British veteran of the First World War. He was conscripted into the 51st Battalion of the Manchester Regiment and training as an infantryman less than six months before the war ended.

His personal files have been destroyed which is hampering authorities proving beyond doubt he is a surviving veteran, and although it seems he didnt actually see combat in this war at least, he has been recognised by the World War One Veteran’s Society.

To read the full story in the Telegraph click here

Amazing story, I wonder how many more ‘missing’ veterans there are? It seems to me that any male that is 108 or older is a candidate, any ideas how we can get a list of all those people? There must be more than 4 of them…

Five miles from Ypres, in a quiet courtyard in the village of Poperinge, stands a pole of the sort used to support the twining vines of hops, a common local crop. It is about the height of a man. Just behind it is a steel plaque engraved with a verse from Kipling’s ‘Coward’: “I could not look on death, which being known, men led me to him, blindfold and alone.”

It doesn’t look much, especially when you compare it to the vast memorials of the Menin Gate and Thiepval, and I suppose seeing as it as a memorial to those men who were executed by their comrades for refusing to continue the fight – deserters as they are commonly called – it is understandable. The whole business of deserters goes against the glorified image of the Great War, of men linking arms and taking the fight to the enemy, no matter what the hardship. No, this is not something the authorities then (and to some extent, now) want many people to remember, it is perhaps a dirty piece of history they would rather wash their hands of.

The thing is, these people (Over 300 British soldiers were executed for cowedice/desertion) were human too. Fathers, sons, brothers, lovers…normal people who just reached the end of their tether in an environment so extreme that is impossible to imagine what it was like for them. They were not born soldiers, they were accountants, farmers, mill workers, shoesmiths…normal people going about their normal business until the whole of Europe went completely mental in 1914. Then they were ordered to kill people they had no real gripe with – just because the politicians and the C-in-C said they had to.

Can we really blame them for wanting out?

My point is, these soldiers should not be forgotten, they should not be treated any differently than those people who were killed in action, died of wounds, got taken prisoner or survived the whole show. So it is nice to see the Flanders Museum, located in the Cloth Hall at Ypres, now has a dedicated section to these soldiers…

I suppose it’s better late than never.

Now this is cool. For me, the best part of researching the Great War is the individual stories, the personal suffering and heroism, the privatethoughts of the normal man-in-the-street-turned-soldier.  So, i was very pleased to see that the Royal Surrey Regimental Museum have digitised and posted diaries from some of their soldiers/officers.

One of the most famous acts of the war involved the 8th (Football) Btn, East Surrey Regiment…

On the first day of the Battle of the Somme, B Company of the 8th Battalion went into the attack dribbling four footballs which the Company Commander, Captain Neville had bought for his platoons to be kicked across No Man’s Land. Captain Nevill and many of his men were killed during the advance, but the 8th Surreys were one of the few battalions to reach and hold their objective on this day. The ‘Football Attack’ caught the imagination of the country, and illustrations of it are shown in the Regimental Museum, which also contains one of the footballs used.

On that day, the 8th Battalion alone won two DSOs, two MCs, two DCMs and nine MMs, but 147 officers and men were killed and 279 wounded.

Read the diary description this very special event right here, courtesy of the museum.

Our physical link with the Great War grew a little thinner this week with the news that William Stone, the last surviving serviceman to fight in both world wars, has died aged 108. Mr Stone joined the Royal Navy on his 18th birthday in September 1918 and served on HMS Tiger.

HMS Tiger served throughout the Great War and saw action at the Battle of Dogger Bank, and Jutland where she was hit 17 times. From 1919 to 1922 she served in the Atlantic Fleet Battlecruiser Sqdn.

During WW2 Mr Stone was a chief stoke on HMS Salamander and took part in the evacuation of Dunkirk, rescuing 11oo troops in 3 trips, despite suffering damage from an enemy air attack. After Dunkirk he took part in the Sicily landings of 1943 with HMS Newfoundland and was mentioned in dispatches.

It is inevitable that all of these old soldiers will pass away at some point, I just hope that the act of remembrance doesn’t disappear with them. With Europe spiralling into a deep recession, and an ever increasing racial and religious unrest bubbling on a global scale, there are uncanny similarities to the 1930’s and we all know the result of that….That is why rememberance and learning from history is so very important. We cannot afford  to make the same mistakes again.

The Assaination of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand.

28th June 1914.Archduke Franz Ferdinand was the heir to the throne of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, however the a large percentage of the population of the province of Bosnia Herzogovina were unhappy at Austrian rule, instead favouring a union with Serbia. The Archduke and his wife were invited to the province to watch army manoevers and they arrived around 10am by train.

At 10.10, when the six car possession passed the central police station, Nedjelko Cabrinovic, a member of the terrorist group ‘ Black Hand’ hurled a hand grenade station at the archduke’s car. The driver accelerated when he saw the object flying towards him and the grenade exploded under the wheel of the next car. Two of the occupants, Eric von Merizzi and Count Boos-Waldeck were seriously wounded. About a dozen spectators were also hit by bomb splinters.

Franz Ferdinand’s driver, Franz Urban, drove on extremely fast and other members of the Black Hand group on the route were unable to fire their guns or hurl their bombs at the Archduke’s car.

After attending the official reception at the City Hall, Franz Ferdinand asked about the members of his party that had been wounded by the bomb. When the archduke was told they were badly injured in hospital, he insisted on being taken to see them. A member of the archduke’s staff, Baron Morsey, suggested this might be dangerous, but Oskar Potiotek, who was responsible for the safety of the royal party, replied, “Do you think Sarajevo is full of assassins?” However, Potiorek did accept it would be better if the Duchess remained behind in the City Hall. When Baron Morsey told Sophie about the revised plans, she refused to stay arguing: “As long as the Archduke shows himself in public today I will not leave him.”

In order to avoid the city centre, General Oskar Potiorek decided that the royal car should travel straight along the Appel Quay to the Sarajevo Hospital. However, Potiorek forgot to tell the driver, Franz Urban, about this decision. On the way to the hospital, Urban took a right turn into Franz Joseph Street. One of the conspirators, Gavrilo Princip, was standing on the corner at the time. Oskar Potiorek immediately realised the driver had taken the wrong route and shouted “What is this? This is the wrong way! We’re supposed to take the Appel Quay!”.

The driver put his foot on the brake, and began to back up. In doing so he moved slowly past the waiting Gavrilo Princip. The assassin stepped forward, drew his gun, and at a distance of about five feet, fired several times into the car. Ferdinand was hit in the neck and the Duchess was hit in the abdomen. Princip’s bullet had pierced the archduke’s jugular vein but before losing consciousness, he pleaded “Sophie dear! Sophie dear! Don’t die! Stay alive for our children!” Franz Urban drove the royal couple to Konak, the governor’s residence, but although both were still alive when they arrived, they died from their wounds soon afterwards.

To put it mildly, this really annoyed the Austrians, who immediately set about to crush the Serbs. Exactly one month later on the 28th July 1917, Austria declared war on Serbia and Russia…over the next few months there was a lot of political pushing and shoving with governments facing up to governments declaring ‘ if you hurt my mate, you will have us to deal with’ and thus Europe quickly split into two sides, each side pushing out their chest in a show of confidence and military power.

It would only end in tears. And death. Lots of death.

After the assassination of the Archduke there began a period of political bicep flexing and a flurry of pacts, friendly handshakes and aggressive finger pointing as the major (and some of the not so major) powers of Europe shuffled themselves into two distinct sides ready for an August face-off.

On the 6th July, Germany put an arm around its Austro-Hungarian cousins and told them they could count on German support if they decided on revenge against Serbia.

Rumours are abound that the Serbian government were behind the assassination. On the 9th July the Austro-Hungarian government send Friedrich von Wiesner to check it out.

Not surprisingly 4 days later, on 14th July, Herr von Wiesner reports back confirming the rumours that the Serbia government were indeed behind the assassination. Now they are really annoyed.

On 21st July,the Chief of Staff of the Austro-Hungarian Army; Conrad von Hotzendorff called for the declaration of war on Serbia claiming that no one in Europe would bat an eyelid.

Feeling brave two days later on 23rd July, the Austro-Hungarian government placed 15 separate demands on the Serbia government, including one that they arrest the leaders of the black hand gang and send them to Vienna for trial.

The next day, 24th July, fearing the worst, the Serbs ask Russia for help if they were to be attacked by Austria-Hungary. They get the nod from Russian 26th July. Meanwhile they have already stuck two fingers up at Austria-Hungary by flatly refusing to co-operate with any of their demands. This didn’t really go down well with Emperor Franz Josef and the rest of the Austo-Hungarians, and they declared war on Serbia on 28th July.

On the 31st July Russia mobilises it’s army in support of Serbia, and in a kind of ‘come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough’ stance moved troops right up to the borders of Austrio-Hungary and Germany.

This p*ssed of Germany, who declared war on Russia on August 1st. But, not content with taking on Russia, Germany declare war on France on August 3rd and are now committed to fight a war on two fronts.

Now it’s time for Britain to get in on the act. When Germany declared war on France, Belgium understandably became very nervous. As a neutral territory they looked to Britain to help them preserve their position. Britain, being the nice chaps they were, immediately tipped their hat to Belgium and guaranteed to protect their neutrality. In the same breath Britain warned Germany that if they set foot in Belgium they could consider themselves at war with Britain and her empire.

It’s all about to kick off big time, because the Germans walked into Belgium on August 4th and true to their word Britain declared war on Germany. Over the next 10 days or so, all the major protagonists declared war on each other, making two very distinct, very powerful and very destructive sides. Austria-Hungary and Germany on one side, Russia, France and Great Britain on the other.

And after all this political show boating and feather ruffling it is left to the ordinary man in the street to fight it out in the trenches. To live and to die amongst the mud, the guns, the filth, the gas, the rats and the blood…

Now, it is often thought that Pte John Parr of the 4th Btn. Middlesex Regiment was the first British battle casualty of the War. Not true. Although he is obviously an early casualty (killed on the 21st August 1914) he was not the first British casualty.

In the early morning of August 6th 1914, with the war being only 32 hours old, HMS Amphion hit a German mine in the North Sea. Casualties on that day included 278171 Leading Stoker Andrew Collins, SS/4209 Able Seaman Albert Cowley, CH/18478 F Bates (Royal Marine Light Infantry), and K/16433 Stoker 1st Class Fred Coker

The following account of the sinking of HMS Amphion is taken from Naval Staffs Monographs. Vol 10.

At 2300 on August 4th 1914, England declared war on Germany. In anticipation of war the Konigin Luise, a former Hamburg – Holland holiday ferry, had been converted to an auxiliary minelayer by the Germans. On the night of 4th August she left her home port of Emden and steamed south through the North Sea to lay mines off the Thames Estuary. The ship resembled the steamers of the Great Eastern Railway that plied from Harwick to the Hook of Holland, and so she was painted in their colors of black, buff, and yellow to disguise herself.

Meanwhile, at the port of Harwick 80 miles north of London, HMS Amphion (Capt.Cecil H.Fox) and the destroyers of the 3rd Flotilla were preparing to sail. They departed in the early hours of the morning and by daylight on the 5th August they were well out into the North Sea sweeping towards the Heligoland Bight. A few hours after leaving port a destroyer on the screen spoke to a fishing vessel who had seen an unknown vessel “throwing things over the side” about 20 miles north of the Outer Gabbard.

At 1025 Amphion sighted the unknown steamer and sent the destroyers Lance and Landrail to investigate. The steamer was the Konigin Luise which made off at 20 knots, altering course, before disappearing into a rain squall where she began laying mines. At 1030, Lance signalled she was engaging the enemy and is credited with firing the first shot of World War 1. They were soon joined by Amphion ( which had won the fleetgunnery prize for 1914) and the German came under very accurate fire.

The Konigin Luise was only lightly armed with two 3.7cm MGs and some smaller weapons and offered little resistance. Commander Biermann brought her onto a south-easterly course hoping to regain neutral waters and draw the British ships into her minefield. However, after receiving numerous hits, the order was given to sink the ship to avoid any further loss of life. At 1222, on fire amidships and with smoke and steam pouring from her funnels, the Konigin Luise rolled over to port and sank at 55.5N 2.32E. 46 of the 100 crew were rescued.

During the action the Amphion gun crews from the disengaged side crossed over to watch the firing and showed their appreciation of good salvoes by cheering and applauding. After the action Capt. Fox mustered all hands and reprimanded the men for leaving their posts. He reminded them that they were at war and no matter what the other fellow was doing, each man was to go on with his duty and stick to it. The ship’s company rather enjoyed the lecture and saw the sense in it.

The British destroyers now sighted another ship of the same shape and color of the Konigin Luise. She was flying a huge German Flag and the destroyers began their attack. Amphion recognized her as the St.Petersburg which was carrying the German Ambassador back to Germany from England. Amphion signaled the destroyers to cease fire but in the excitement of the moment they ignored the signal and pressed home the attack. Capt. Fox then put the Amphion between the destroyers and the St Petersburg to deliberately foul the range.

HMS Amphion in 1914

At 2100 Amphion and the destroyers set course to return to Harwick. Unfortunately, due to reported problems with mines and submarines, the allocated course ran very close to where the Konigin Luise had laid her mines.

At 0645 on August 6th 1914 HMS Amphion struck a mine which exploded just beside the forebridge and broke the ship’s back. The explosion practically destroyed the bridge and smoke and flames poured from the slits in the conning tower. Except for one man, all the fo’csle gun crews were killed and the bridge occupants badly burnt. As the hands were at breakfast, many were killed or suffocated in the forward messdecks. This included 19 of 21 German survivors.

Capt.Fox stopped engines and proceeded aft to take charge. The ship was well down at the bows and attempts to extinguish the raging fires in the forward part of the ship failed. Abandon Ship was ordered. As most of Amphion’s boats were destroyed, the destroyers sent their boats to rescue the crew.

There was no confusion or panic. The men fell in on deck. Within twenty minutes of the first explosion all the survivors were safely on board the destroyers. Among the survivors was Midshipman E.F Fegan who would later win a VC as Captain of the Jervis Bay when it was sunk in WW2.

Unfortunately, although Amphions’s engines were stopped, she still had way on and she continued turning in a circle. At 0703, just as the last boatload of survivors were taken off, she again struck the same row of mines. Her magazine detonated in a huge cloud of pale yellow smoke and the fore part of the ship completely disintegrated showering the attending destroyers with debris. There were several casualties, one 4-inch shell falling on board the destroyer Lark, killing two of Amphion’s men and a German prisoner. Amphion then suddenly slid astern and sank at 0705 at 52.11N 02.36E. One officer and 150 men were lost.

A unique system of trenches, which lay undiscovered for almost a century, has been revealed by a team of archaeologists and historians in Folkestone.  See video.

I know this blog is supposed to be about WW1 and the heroes that fought in it, but last Sunday I visited the Illinois Holocaust Museum just north of Chicago, and as my passion for military history spans both world wars and beyond I thought it would be reticent of me if i didn’t comment on my trip.

The museum is just north of Chicago in a town called Skokie, luckily for me I had borrowed Bill’s Garmin the previous night as we departed a bar after watching the boxing (Still can’t believe my man Ricky got taken apart – but that’s another story!).

Although it is called a museum it is not one in it’s traditional sense, it is more like an educational centre. There are not many museum-like ‘artifacts’ to look at, instead there are a number of plasma screen that tell the story of the Holocaust, from the rise of the Nazi party from the embers of the Great Depression, to the ‘Final Solution’ and liberation of the concentration camps by the Allies.

The main Exhibition tells the story of the Holocaust, from pre-war German life through ghetto life and concentration camps to eventual liberation and resettlement throughout the world, with a special focus on post-war life in Israel and Skokie.  Artifacts, documents and photographs help illustrate the narrative of the Holocaust while testimonies from local survivors add personal detail. A rail car of the type used in Nazi deportation programs sits within the building.   The exhibition concludes with a summary film in the Pritzker Theater that connects the lessons of the Holocaust with other Genocides.

The spirit and soul of the center of course honours the millions of people that were murdered during the Holocaust, but it also salutes the courage and resiliance of the survivors. Those people that rebuilt their lives, many of them in the locality of the museum, . There is a strong message of ‘Never Again’ that runs throughout the museum.

While I was there the museum was interviewing an old lady – perhaps in her 80’s – about her experiences. She was softly spoken and I was looking on from a distance so as not to distract her, but i heard her describe the moment she was seperated from her parents after disembarking at a concentration camp (I dont know which one). That was the last time she saw any of her family.

Next time you have a bad day because your boss shouts at you, or you spill your starbucks down your shirt, or you have lost your favourite shoes, just take a second to think about the 6 million people who died in concentration camps, the ghettos, death marches, forced labour, public executions and beatings. Think about the suffering, the torture, the starvation, the loss of dignity, the constant fear of death… Think about the survivors – physically and mentally scarred for the rest of their lives.

Then, perhaps, your day won’t seem so bad after all.

Five burial pits, thought to contain the bodies of between 250-400 British and Australian soldiers have been found in Northern France, seemingly buried behind enemy lines after the Battle of Fromelles  in July 1916. A stark reminder that, even 90 plus years on, we can not and should not forget the sacrifice, heroism, and folly of this conflict.

Historians have long thought such mass graves existed in the area for a number of years, but now their thoughts have been confirmed. See a video on how the conservation process will take place on the bbc website.

The Battle of Fromelles was an unmitigated disaster.

It was conceived as a ruse to divert German attention away from the campaign on the Somme in July 1916. For the Australians the Battle of Fromelles is still talked about in the same breath as Gallipolli. It was a huge disaster for them, over 5000 casualties in 12 hours.  2000 British soldiers were also killed in this attack which was conceived as a diversionary attack to divert German attention away from the Battle of the Somme.

It is believed Adolf Hitler, then a corporal in the Bavarian reserve infantry, ran messages behind the German lines during the battle.

And the bunker Hitler visited in the 1940s when he came to occupied France is said to be just a few hundred yards from the burial site.

Lets hope the CWGC give these heroes a fitting final resting place…

The Imperial War Museum in London has a remarkable sound archive which is open to the public (by appointment). The archive holds over 56,000 hours of recordings of personal accounts from the Boer War, the Great War, WW2 and more recent conflicts such as Korea, Falklands, Iraq and Afghanistan.

As well as oral accounts of soldiers who were there, the archive holds a number of recordings of war reports and famous speeches – including many speeches of Sir Winston Churchill, British and German war propoganda and broadcasts from the Nuremburg trials.

The famous ‘Forgotton Voices’ series of documentaries and books have been compiled using a large amount of sound archive material, including the newest addition – Forgotten Voices of D-Day. I have just orderd my copy of this book, and cannot wait to read it!

The sound archive has an online catalogue which can be explored at www.iwm.org.uk using a keyword search (each recording has a summary of its content, so you could search by your ancestor’s regiment, squadron, ship, or a particular battle.

For appointments visit the website or email them at sound@iwm.org.uk

I am feeling generous in May, so I have decided to offer both my book on the Military Cross and my 2009 Directory of websites to help discover your military heroes both for half price, right up until May 31st!

That means you can get a signed copy of my hardback book on the Winners of the MC & 2Bars/3Bars during WW1 for just 10pounds, and my ebook CD for just 4pounds. Postage to the UK is free also!

There are 2 ways of ordering/paying:

Firstly direct through paypal (my email address for the payment is mcfinder@sky.com) Please make sure you include your name/postal address so i know where to send everything.

Secondly email me/direct message me on Twitter (@military_search)/post comment on this blog with your order requirements and I will tell you where to send a cheque.

I have linked to the websites above so you can see information about both publications, but please dont purchase them via these websites as you will have to pay full price!! The half price special offer can onlybe honoured if you follow the procedures above.

Happy reading!

Scott

In November, myself and a good buddy of mine will be going on a ‘bit of a bike ride’.  Starting on the Franco/Swiss border we will cycle north following as closely as we can the Western Front Trench System from WW1 until we arrive at the Beglian coastal town of Nieuport, (hopefully on Rememberence Day) some 550 miles away from our starting point.

Cycling the WW1 Western Front in aid of the Royal British Legion

The aim is to raise £10,000 pounds for the Royal British Legion – a wonderful charity that looks after current and ex-service men and women. Anyone can donate at www.justgiving.com/cyclingtheline

I will be taking my pc with me and the idea is to update the blog every day with details of our adventure, I am even toying with the idea of getting a little video camera mounted on our cycle helmets so we can post video footage of us being run off the road by French lorries…

The plan is to average about 50 miles per day for 10 days (with a couple of rest days in between). I am in training already, although the north Hampshire countryside is not quite the same terrain as the Vosges Mountains!

If you would like to help us in our fundraising efforts, pls visit our secure justgiving web page at www.justgiving.com/cyclingtheline

Thanks!

Scott

I have just been reading on the Royal British Legion website about a town in Poland who is divided over what to do with a tree planted by Adolf Hitler as a birthday celebration.

According to the Legion, the oak, which stands in the Polish town of Jaslo, is one of several hundred that were given away by the Nazi leader on 20 April each year to commemorate his birthday. The town’s mayor thinks it is bad for the town’s image and is in the way of traffic, and wants it chopped down. But evidently half of the town’s 38,000 population thinks the tree should stay…hmmm.

Here’s an idea. Firstly chop the damn tree down! (why has it taken 60 years to even think about it!) BUT, from the remains of the tree create a nice, tasteful sculptured memorial in rememberance of the millions of Jews, Slavs and other races slaughtered at the hands of the Nazis. A memorial such as this, sculpted out of this symbol of Nazism, would be fitting tribute to the memories of those that perished.

Talking of the Royal British Legion, I want to thank every one who has sponsored me so far in my quest to raise 10 grand for them by riding the WW1 Western Front Trench System. THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!

I suppose it was bound to happen at some time as they couldn’t physically live on forever, but nonetheless it is very sad that Henry Allingham and Harry Patch both passed away this week, leaving the UK with just one physical link to horror and carnage of the ‘War to end all Wars’.

Henry Allingham was the oldest gentleman in the world when he passed away peacefully in the early hours of  July 18th aged 113.  A veteran of the Battle of Jutland as well serving on the Western Front, he was also a founder member of the RAF (The RNAS and RFC merged to form the RAF in April 1918).

7 days later on July 25th Harry Patch, the last surviving infantryman also passed away. Mr Patch had become something of a celebrity over the last few years with many historians, authors and tv companies trying to filter out his last memories of trench warfare. Harry fought at Ypres in 1917  until 22 September when he was injured by a shell bursting right over his head. He sustained a nasty abdominal injury, but 3 members of his Lewis Gun team were all killed. He never returned to the front but the memories of that day obviously stayed with him. He was often quoted as saying that the 22nd September was his rememberance day.

With the passing of these 2 hero’s the sole British survivor of the Great War is former seaman Claude Choules. Mr Choules  served in the Royal Navy and is 108, he is living in Australia but is originally from Worcestershire.

With the passing of these old gentlemen we will lose our physical link with WW1, that is inevitable I suppose, however what must never happen is that we should forget. We must never fail to teach our children, and our children’s children, the horror of this conflict, the suffering of these ordinary men, and ultimately, what they suffered for.

Thank you Henry and Harry, you are back with your old mates now. You deserve a rest.

The BBC has asked the poet Laureate, Carol Ann Duffy, to write a poem to commemorate the passing of two of the last WW1 veterans, Henry Allingham (who’s funeral, with full military honours is today), and Harry Patch, who’s funeral is scheduled for next week.

The poem is vivid, powerful and moving, I have transcribed it in full here (hope there is no copywright infringements by doing this!) alternatively you can see it (and hear the poem being read)  on the BBC website

LAST POST

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If poetry could tell it backwards, true, begin
that moment shrapnel scythed you to the stinking mud…
but you get up, amazed, watch bled bad blood
run upwards from the slime into its wounds;
see lines and lines of British boys rewind
back to their trenches, kiss the photographs from home-
mothers, sweethearts, sisters, younger brothers
not entering the story now
to die and die and die.
Dulce- No- Decorum- No- Pro patria mori.
You walk away.

You walk away; drop your gun (fixed bayonet)
like all your mates do too-
Harry, Tommy, Wilfred, Edward, Bert-
and light a cigarette.
There’s coffee in the square,
warm French bread
and all those thousands dead
are shaking dried mud from their hair
and queuing up for home. Freshly alive,
a lad plays Tipperary to the crowd, released
from History; the glistening, healthy horses fit for heroes, kings.

You lean against a wall,
your several million lives still possible
and crammed with love, work, children, talent, English beer, good food.
You see the poet tuck away his pocket-book and smile.
If poetry could truly tell it backwards,
then it would.

95 years ago today, the Imperial German army marched into Belgium. They were, ultimately, on route to Paris and beyond, to encircle the French army (not necessarily to capture the captial) and force France to surrender before the might of the Russian war machine mobilised and headed towards Prussia.

Britain, lept to the defense of Belgium, giving the Germans an ultimatum (which was ignored) and declared war on Germany. The BEF, spread out across the globe, starts to get organised for a European conflict, and so begins the War to end all Wars…

In an effort to reduce running costs by 10% by next year, the National Archives has announced a number of significant changes. From 2010 the plans are to reduce opening times by closing on Mondays, limit access to original documents that are available online and make a number of members of staff redundent (around 35% of specialist archivists are earmaked for redundency).

The measures have sparked some critisim from researchers and historians, with some of them accusing TNA of wanting to ‘dumb down’ the services they provide to such an extent that they will become just a glorified family history centre.

I am not sure this is quite true. Although family history is popular, it is not TNA’s core service and there is a real concern that the reduction in trained archivists could have a detrimental  effect on other areas of the TNA. That said, with the popularity of websites such as www.ancestry.co.uk and TNA’s own documents online service there are a lot of people searching for documents remotely via the internet now.

However, one thing I would say is that in my experience the web based search functions are not always accurate. There have been many times where i have not been able to find someone via an online search, but when I have gone through the original documents I have found my person. So, if you are going to push people more and more to online search, please  TNA, invest some of the money you will save into the web infrastructure that is going to replace the original documents, or at least keep the original documents open for viewing.

This is just my 2penneth, other people have their views, you can read some of them on the BBC’s WDYTYA? blog

I know this is predominantly a WW1 blog, but I posted this question on a Linkedin Forum earlier this week and it sparked huge debate, so I thought it would be good to get the views of people who were not necessarily on LinkedIn.

A former German infantry commander has been jailed for life for his role in the killing of 14 civilians in an Italian village during World War II.

A Munich state court found 90-year-old Josef Scheungraber guilty of ordering the killings, in what was one of the last Nazi crimes trials in Germany.

Scheungraber had previously been sentenced in absentia by an Italian military court to life in prison.

The killings took place in Falzano di Cortona, in Tuscany, on 26 June 1944. An attack by partisans killed an NCO and a private. Scheungruber and the commander of the battalion gave an order to retaliate, which was carried out on the same day. Initially, a 74-year-old woman and three men were shot dead on a street at random by soldiers. Then, eleven men were captured and taken to the ground floor of a farmhouse in the village of Falzano di Cortona. The house was then dynamited, killing ten men who were 16 – 66 years of age.
Read the full story on the BBC website http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/europe/8194691.stm

What do you think of this? Should a 90 year old man be jailed for something he did in 1944, or should we just forgive him in an effort to stop dredging up the past? Were the Allies whiter than white during the same conflict or are we guilty of hypocrisy?

Your views are welcomed!

 Thousands upon thousands of British soldiers have given their lives to defeat Germany in both World Wars, so at first it does seem a little odd that German representatives could be invited to a future national memorial celebration of WW1. But, take a minute to think of the wider picture. Think of your family ancestors who fought in WW2 and WW1. Were they German haters? No. Did they want to kill as many Germans as possible? No. But, were they fighters? Yes. Were they proud to defend their country against evil? Yes.

And here is my point, the ordinary soldier, regardless of what side they are on are not haters, they are fighters. They didn’t start the war, they didn’t want to kill, but they did their duty to the best of their ability. The fact is war is started by politicians and finished by ordinary people on both sides who don’t want to kill anyone. When you think of it like this it actually makes me ask the question – why weren’t they invited before? If they were it perhaps it would have helped to reduce the tension that still exists between some factions of each country’s youth.

So lets invite them, and welcome them with open arms…

I get a large number of enquiries from people asking me to help them research their ancestors who fought in WW2. Unfortunately there is only a limited amount of help any researcher can do with this campaign, due to the fact that the MoD still hold the service records of all soldiers of this era. Indeed, any soldier who served beyond 1922 has not had his/her service records released to the public. I suppose the good news in all of this is that, unlike the vast majority of WW1 records, they still survive!!

So what can be done, well just because the MoD have them doesn’t mean family members cannot continue their search – below I have written some tips and tricks to help you uncover your WW2 Ancestors.

Ancestor Killed in Action?

If your ancestor was killed during WW2, the first place to go is to the Commonwealth War Graves Commision website Here is a complete list of all army, navy, air force and merchant navy personnel who lost their lives during this conflict, there are even civilian casualties listed. The search form is straight forward and you will be able to gain certain information which could include the regiment/battalion/ship/ served, age at death, date of death, cemetery/memorial details, and next of kin details.

Alternatively, another good source of information is the Army Roll of Honour which is now in CD format and can be purchased from The Naval and Military Press. Click here for more information on that.

one of my ancestors on the cwgc site

Diaries/Flight Logs/Combat Records

If your ancestor was killed in action during the war, then a good place to try and find out more information as to where/when/how/why he was killed is to consult the Battalion diaries. Every army unit that served overseas were expected to keep a relatively detailed diary of their time at war. They can be consulted as original documents (Although some are now digitised) at the National Archives in Kew. These diaries can often be vary detailed especially during large attacks/battles. It is rare for ordinary rank and file to be mentioned by name, however there are usually detailed casualty lists and Officers are usually mentioned by name.

RAF Squadron records also held at Kew, you can find them in AIR27 on microfilm. These are detailed and for each operation the crew of every aircraft is listed, and details of what happened during the flight (where known).

Air Ministry Combat records are available online and contain  combat reports of squadrons, wings and groups in Fighter, Bomber, Coastal Commands and Fleet Air Arm squadrons. The records cover Commonwealth and Allied units based in the United Kingdom including the United States Army Air Force.

Naval records are rare for individual ships as they were not required to keep detailed diaries like the Army. However there are many combat reports in the ADM area of Kew, it just takes a bit more digging to find the relevant information.

Prisoner of War?

There are selected escape and evasion reports online at the National Archives. These Prisoner of War reports are listed by the name of the person making the statement, the date of the interview and the individual report number (as it appears in the report, example MI9/SPG: 1402). In addition to prisoner of war accounts, the reports include dates of capture and escape and personal information such as civilian occupation and home address.

Medals – Gallantry

If your ancestor was awarded a gallantry medal (for example a Military Medal, Military Cross etc.) then The National Archives hold an online directory of recommendations for these awards. It is rare to find WW2 award citations in the London Gazette, but these recommendations should give you good detail as to why they were awarded this gallantry medal. This online records is for the Army only.

Medals – Campaign

If you want to know what campaign medals your ancestor was entitled to, or indeed want to claim their medals (For WW2 soldiers had to make a claim to get their medals, and many didn’t)  you must write to the Army Medal Office at the following address:

Officer in Charge
The Army Medal Office
Government Buildings
Droitwich Spa
Worcester
WR10 8AU

Campaign medals to merchant seamen during the Second World War can be searched for and found online at the National Archives

Service Records

As already mentioned, any soldier who served beyond 1922 has not had his/her service records released to the public. Access is allowed by only by direct Next of Kin, who must prove their relationship to the soldier. You have to fill out a form which can be downloaded from their website. This weblink will help for Army, Navy and RAF records.

There is a fee of around £30. You are not sent copies of the original record, but a typed summary of service which normally only includes basic details; if you have specific information you want it is worth asking direct questions. It can take a few months to get your information so be patient!!

For the first time in half a century, the Commonwealth War Graves Commission have began work on a brand new military cemetery. The Fromelles (Pheasant Wood) Military Cemetery is being built to rebury the bodies of hundred of British and Australian soldiers who were killed in the Battle of Fromelles and have recently been found in a mass grave. In advance of the burials, archeologists from Oxford are examining the grounds around the grave and many artefacts are being uncovered. The CWGC will provide an individual grave for each soldier, many of which are being identified by badges, buttons and other items.

It is estimated that the cemetery will be completed in summer 2010, and there is a planned public commemorative event planned for July 19th 2010 (the anniversary of the Battle, which took place in 1916 as part of the Somme offensive) to mark the completion of the project.

The CWGC do a remarkable job tending to our fallen war heroes. Their war cemeteries and memorials to the missing ensure that these brave men are not forgotten, it is only right that the soldiers of Fromelles are given the same opportunity.

I have just read an article on the Royal British Legion’s blog that says recent research suggests that British school children are severely lacking in British historical knowledge. Not surprising given the wide spectrum of curriculum modern schools are supposed to cram into term time, and the never ending surge of political correctness that means these children spend a dis-proportionate amount of time studying the history and beliefs of far flung countries rather than the history  and beliefs of their own…

The legion suggest that some teachers out of a survey of just over 2000, admitted to only dedicating 1 hour of teaching time to the subject of the holocaust. To me this is unbelievable.

How can we expect future generations to avoid the mistakes of the past if we do not make them aware? And I dont mean watching a one hour documentary, or colouring in a few yellow Stars of David…they need to truly understand how a seemingly civilised country such as Germany accepted the systematic slaughter of over 10 million people as ’something that needed to be done’.

Surely such study is important? In a recent article in the Guardian it argues that this so called more flexible curriculum is less challenging to pupils and there is concern that subject matter such as Hitler, Stalin, Churchill and Ghandi are no longer compulsory.

No longer compulsory? Are they mad? At a personal level, almost every child in British classrooms today will have family stories from the first and second wars, surely it is their right to know what happened to the grandfather,   and great greatgrandfather? Surely they should know that they fought to make the world a better place, that they werent killers, but proud fighters that wanted to protect their country and their families.

The only way to learn is to learn from mistakes, but are we not allowing the future of our country learn? The Holocaust must never happen again, but how will our children know if they are not taught properly?

The folks at the National Army Museum have had a busy summer delving into their extensive photograph archives, the results of which are now being shown via their online exhibition entitled First Shots: Early War Photography 1848-60. The online exhibition features  the work of many celebrated war photographers including Bengal Army Surgeon John McCosh who, as an enthusiastic amateur, recorded some remarkable scenes from the Second Sikh War (1848-49). Also featured is the work of Roger Fenton, of Crimea fame, whose pictures were among the first to be used for propaganda purposes.

Supported by early photographic equipment, First Shots provides a fascinating insight into the origins of what has become one of the most powerful journalistic mediums.

Visitors may find some images in this exhibition disturbing.

As we remember the 70th anniversary of the start of the Second World War, it is a good time to remember the 349,000 british soldiers, sailors and airmen who fought and perished during this conflict.  Ancestry.co.uk have just released the WW2 Roll of Honour which records all these heroe’s names, along with specialist information, manually decoded from the original short-hand documents. This means, that now you can now see extra details of those who were killed in action, died of wounds, disease, sickness or natural causes.

You can also find out where they were fighting and where they were taken after being wounded. These details were all recorded by the War Office and are now available online for the first time. Search for them online at www.ancestry.co.uk (subscription required). If you do not have a subscription, contact me for an individual quote on discovering your own hero. It will be a lot less expensive than the cost of the subscription to Ancestry.

Their stories should never be forgotten.

It has been 4 months in the planning, but ‘Cycling the Line’ – my attempt to raise 10 grand for our soldiers by cycling the WW1 western front trench system – is fast approaching. This time next month, myself and Steve Habbishaw will be on the Euro Star hurtling towards Basel for the start of our little bike ride in the country…

The plan is to start riding on 31st October (my birthday by the way – who arranged all this?) from Pfetterhouse on the Franco/Swiss border, the westerly point of the WW1 Western Front trench system and cycle our way north east up towards Verdun, through places such as St. Quentin, Albert, Thiepval, Vimy, Ploegsteert, Ypres, and finishing at the Belgian coast on Armistice Day, 11th November. That’s the thick end of 580 miles for any of you that are interested!

Steve and I have been mates for years and we are both keenly interested in military history and such like, this is our little way of saying ‘thank you’ to all the soldiers, sailors and airmen (veterans and those currently serving) who have given up so much to protect our country… With the passing away of the last veterans of the Great War earlier this year, it has made our journey all the more poignant.

I will put the full route on here soon so you can all have a laugh as you discover just how far we have to go and how many places we have to travel through. The first day will be quite easy, approximately 40 miles north to a town called Thann which is at the foot of the Vosges mountains. My brother in law laughed when I told him (in very broken Czech) that I was cycling over the Vosges. ‘Ha!’ he said…’they are not proper mountains’. Hmmm. OK he may live in Switzerland these days spending his weekends on the Swiss Alps, but to me, living in very flat Hampshire, they are mountains, and even a month out, are frightening me to death…that second day is going to be 70 miles of uphillness. Not fun. But, as I keep saying to myself, the soldiers who were there 95 years ago went through a lot worse. At least no one will shooting at me.

So far we have raised just over 1100 quid which is fantastic! More is needed though so if you are reading this and havent sponsored us yet, please do so. You can donate at our secure justgiving page.

Last month I wrote to HRH Queen Elizabeth II, as she is the patron of the Royal British Legion, and told her of our plan. In response I received a letter from Buckingham Palace wishing us good luck for the trip, which was excellent! Corporate sponsorships have been difficult to get however, I have tried companies such as Halfords, Evans, Tesco, Sainsbury, Maximuscle, Fuel Sports etc. but none of them were willing to help us in any way. It is disappointing, but these kind of companies must get thousands of requests each week from people similar to us asking for support.

Saying that, we have been sponsored by Outstanding Branding a great corporate clothing/merchandise company – they have helped us produce some Cycling the Line t-shirts which we will be wearing along the trip and giving away as a competition nearer the event…watch this space! Anyone reading this who wants to help us (cycling equipment, energy supplements, clothing etc all warmly welcomed!) then get in contact!

I will post more details about the ride on here over the coming weeks. Throughout the journey I hope to update you all on how we are going on here as well as on Twitter (my twitter name is @military_search)

Talking of Twitter, I have to say a huge thank you to everyone on Twitter who is helping me so much to spread the word about this ride…Even Jonathan Ross has been promoting our cause! The support has been fantastic – you guys are the best!

www.justgiving.com/cyclingtheline

The countdown is well and truly on for our bike ride for the Legion. Here is a quick rundown of the schedule for those that are interested…

Day 1 – We start on the Franco Swiss border at Pfetterhouse and cycle north(ish) through Seppois, Largitzen, Hirtzbach, Carspach, Altkirch, Aspach, St. Bernard, Balschwiller, Aspacht before arriving in the town of Thann at the foot of the Vosges Mountains. We plan to stay at Thann overnight and tackle the hills fresh on day two..

Day 2 – This is going to be a killer. From Thann we transend the Vosges going through Willer, St Amarin, Ranspach, Fellering, Oderen, Kruth, Wildenstein, Barmont, Belles-Huttes, Collet Jardin, Le Valtin, Habeaurupt, Plainfaing, Fraize, Vencheres, St Leonard before we arrive at the aptly named St Die after 70 plus horrid miles…where will probably feel like dying.

Day 3 – With the worst of the hills behind us we head off to La Pecherie, La Voivre, Etival-Clairfontaine, Raon-l’Etape, Neufmaisons, Pexonne, Fennevillier, Badonvillier, Montreaux, Ninhigny, Barbas, Blamont, Repaix, Igney, Avrincourt, Moussey, Maizieres, Bourdonnay, Lezey and finally Chateau-Salins were will will stop for a well earned overnight rest.

Day 4  sees us head upto Verdun, via Montauville, Limey, Flirey, Beaumont, Rambucourt, Apremont, St Mihiel, Rouvrois, Lacroix, Troyon, Ambly, Genicourt, Dreue, Haudainville and then Verdun.

Day 5 – Rest Day. We will take a day out at Verdun and do a spot of sight seeing around the Verdun battlefield.

Day 6 – Onward we go upto Fleury, Douaumont, Ossuaire, Charny, Marre, Chattancourt, Esnes, Avocourt, Vauquois, Varennes, Montblainville, Apremont, Charleyaux, Conde, Cernay, Rouvroy-Ripint, Fontain, Gratreuil, Manre, Aure, Sommepy-Tahure, Ste Marie, St Souplet, St Martin-l’Heureux, St Hilaire-le-Petit, Betheniville, Pontfaverger, Epoye, Lavannes, Pomacie, Fresnes-Les-Reims and Bourgogne before dropping a few miles south for our overnigh stay on the outskirts of Reims. There are a lot of town/villages in this list, it looks like it could be a long day!!

It really is a long, long way..

Day 7 – We head north out of Reims to Coivre and on to Villers-Franquex, Hermonville, Bouvancourt, Ventelay, Roucy, Pomavert, Craonnelle, Mon le Pantheon, Chavignon, Pinon, Anizy, Wissignicourt, Premontre, Septvaux, St Gobain, Deuillet, Andelain, Charmes, Danizy, Achery, Mayot, Brissay-Cholgny, Brissay-Hamegicourt, Sery-les Mezieres, Mezieres-sur-Oise, Itancourt, Neuville St Amand before finally arriving at St Quentin – a landmark place in our tour as it marks the start of the British sector on the Western Front…

Day 8 Sees us explore more familiar names to us British as we cycle up towards the Somme battlefields. Fayet, Fresnoy-le-Petit, Pontru, Verguie, Jeancourt, Montingny, Hervilly, Roisel, Marquaix, Tincourt, Peronne, Clery-sur-Somme, Maricourt, Carnoy, Ficourt, Bercorde before ending up at Albert where we stop.

Day9- Rest day on the Somme.  We will be taking a car and taking in all the sights of the Somme battlefield. I think this is going to be a cracking day.

Day 10 – From Albert we had north(ish) to Aveluy, Authuille, Thiepval, Hamel, Beaumont, Serre, Puisieux, Bucquoy, Ayette, Boiry St Martin, Arras, Bailleu sur Berthoult, Farbus, Vimy, Avion, and Lens were we are scheduled for an overnight stay.

Day 11 is a landmark day in our ride as it is the day we say Goodbye to France and Hello to Belgium. From Lens we move on to Benifontaine, Haisnes, La Basee, Lorgies, Neuve-Chappelle, Fauquissart, Retillon, Fleurbaix, Armentieres, Le Bizet (French Border) Ploegsteert, Mesen, Wijtshcate, St Elooi and finally to Ypres.

Day 12 (Rememberance Day) We start the day with a trip to the Menin Gate just outside Ypres where we will take part in the Remembrance Day sevice and then off we go to Potizje, Frizenberg, Zonnebeke, Paschendaele, St Juliaan, Poelkapelle, Madonna, Hothulst, Kierken, Diksmuide, Ijertoren, Stuivekenkerke, Schoorbakke, Ramsapelle, Belge, Nieuwpoort, Lombardsijde and Westende…where we have one or 5 beers before getting the ferry back home the next day…

We have raised ov£1200 so far but more is needed, please help any way you can by visiting www.justgiving.com/cyclingtheline

Today I was at the ‘Find Your Roots’ family history fair in Exeter. The show was bustling with people itching to discover more about their family history, for me it was a particularly busy day as a large number of the visitors seemed to make a bee-line for my stand to discuss their military ancestors. I spoke to scores of fascinating people and discussed all manor of people and aspects of military life. However one story stood out as being particularly remarkable, and I wonder if anyone out there can shed some light on the medal in question for me?

The discussion in question was from a local lady who waited very patiently for around 20 minutes while I was talking to another customer…she had a remarkable story of a chap who was her neighbour who allegedly recieved a very special medal from Queen Victoria. This story was captured in print in a publication called ‘From Youth Onwards: Recollections and Escapades of a Doctor’, John William Ley. c. 1910

 

THE SILVER VICTORIA CROSS

“Soon after I commenced practice at Newton Abbot I was called in to see a patient in the neighbouring village of Kingsteignton.  The case was nothing in itself, but through I became acquainted with a fact that probably is little known and worth recording.  My patient, who must have been a man of enormous muscular development, was quite blind, and he had been terribly wounded during the attack on The Redan during the Russian War.

 After the first unsuccessful attack he was discovered quite insensible between the great redoubt and the trenches.  He was clutching a dead Circassian by the throat, whom he had evidently throttled before he became insensible; but not before the former had thrust his curved sword through his forearm, where it was still fixed.

He had been shot sideways through both eyes; and a great part of his lower jaw had also been blown away!  Besides this he had a fearful bayonet wound in the chest and numerous other injuries; in fact, I never saw a man who had been so knocked about!

He had no recollection whatever as to what has occurred; but it was generally thought that the Circassian and others had come out from The Redan after the repulse to finish off the wounded; and that it was in this encounter he had received most of his injuries.

Although the poor fellow was so fearfully wounded that he could not for some time be removed from the field hospital, he was ultimately taken to Netley.  He was there when Queen Victoria paid her visit; and she ordered the huge bullet, which had been extracted from his throat, to be set in a silver cross, of the same shape as the present Victoria Cross, and given to him!

I saw the full account of it as told to the Queen and the description of her visit, and what she said to him in I think, ‘The Times’ newspaper.  The extracts had been cut out and pasted in a book, which he shewed me with great pride.

It stated that only three of the Crosses had ever been given; and directly after this the Order of the Victoria Cross was initiated.

This man was engaged as an instructor for the Bind Institution, I think, in basket making.

But the extraordinary part of the thing is, that, although I have stated these facts to a great number of military men, I have never come across on who had ever heard of the ‘Silver Victoria Cross’!

I saw it myself, with the bullet set in the centre!

Unfortunately I cannot remember the man’s name; I know he was the son-in-law of an old gardener called Locke, who lived in Kingsteignton; but the whole family have long since been dead.

These three Crosses must be of some value; and I think it is a great pity that they cannot be traced, as they must still be in existence, and are of historical interest.”

 [This meeting would have taken place sometime between 1883 and 1910]

Does anyone know anything about this medal? What was it called, what did it look like? I would be very intrigued to know…Answers on a postcard (or email)…

Well here we are in Basel, day 2 of our cycling the line journey across the WW1 trenches. We both had an eventful day yesterday…even before we left the UK. I had an early start, leaving the house at 6.30am, bike fully loaded, paniers on back pack on..lets go! The cycle ride to the train station for me is about 6 miles. In that time I nearly fell off three times – the bike is quite unstable with full paniers on – and the panier rack broke. I mean fell off. So I had to do some emergency repairs by the roadside which didnt really do the job, my panier pack fell off the back every half mile or so…A great start seeing as I had 550 miles in front of me. Getting into london I had to get a cab to St. Pancras because there was no way I was going to ride across london with a broken panier. Black cabs are the best vehicles in the world, swallowing the bike and paniers easily. I did get a few odd looks though: ‘why is that guy with a bike taking a cab?’

Getting to St Pancras I then had to get our tickets, the ticket machine chewed up the tickets which meant a 45 min queue to get them reprinted (nice).

In the meantime, Steve texted me to say he was running late – so $*£*$ had stolen his rucksack off the back of his bike (well he does live in Slough) And gone are is ipod, camera, and other stuff…Needless to say when he didn finally get in the station he was not a happy bunny.

The Eurostar is a fabulous piece of kit..very smooth, it was my first time on it and I was impressed. Getting into Paris Nord bang on time we then set about to find our bikes (they were stored else where on the train). After asking a couple of Frenchies where to go and not understanding a word they said we finally found our bikes, at the other end of the station about 20 mins walk! Carrying paniers this is not funny. Some emergency repairs to my paniers and rack and we were all set to find Gare d’lest. We had a 3 hour wait for a next train so grabbed a bit of lunch 7Euros for a sandwich and beer!! And it wasnt even a pint. Whilst we were sipping, some old French lady came up to us and took all our paper wrapping from the sandwhich and then just walked off. Very random.

The train to Basel was again very cool – a proper train. Fast and comfy, with the coolest reading lights I have every seen! We got into Basel about 9pm found the hotel and also found that we had a double bed. Nice. We are good mates, but not that good! After a quick fight, Steve lost and slept on the floor. He paid be back by snoring like a mo-fo all night though…

So now it is morning, we are off to Fellering today – about 40 miles. We couldn’t get a hotel in Thann which was our intended stop on day one so we are doing a few extra miles…oh joy! My zip on the top panier is completely buggered and is flapping in the breeze…which is nice.

Our hotel tonight is a very small local place, I doubt they will have internet, so if there is no update that is the reason…

Cycling the Line is finally happening….let the pedalling begin!

Day 1 of the cycle happened to be my birthday (31st October). We eventually left Basel in a taxi big enough to take our bikes and kit (we had waited over an hour for him to turn up, in the meantime 2 cabbies had turned up for us in mercs, even though we explicitly said we had 2 bikes..DOH! Anyhow, the 30min cab ride cost us ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY EUROS. Can I just say Switzerland is a thieving place everything is uber expensive, but that cab ride took the piss. Anyhow, we got dropped off a Pfetterhouse – the southernly point of the Western Front, and started pedalling…The little villages we passed through were beautiful, however the all seemed to be set in small valleys, which meant lots of hills! Luckily there were enough down hills to compensate for the uphills so it wasnt too bad.

Before we knew it we had knocked off a fair few towns and were feeling very good about things, Thann came and went – we decided to push on a little further than previously planned because we had made good time. We eventually got ourselves to a small village called Fellering. Our hotel was up the biggest, steepest hill I had every seen. It was 3miles long this hill and we had to walk it – it was impossible to cycle, especially after 40 odd miles. At every corner I was pleading that the hotel was in sight, but it was not to be. It took over an hour to get there up this hill…but we got there. A beautiful place surrounded by forest – absolutely in the middle of nowhere. The landlady cooked us chicken and rice and home made soup which did the trick just nicely…and we went to bed content that 43 miles had been knocked off in the first day…

I will be honest with you..I was worried about today, I expected a really tough tough day through the Vosges Mountains…and I wasn’t disappointed.

Today has been the hardest day of my life, from a physical point of view, yet apart from the birth of my 2 children, probably the most rewarding and amazing day ever.

We set off at 9.45am this morning, down the huge hill we had come up the night before and headed towards the looming dark shapes on the horizon – the Vosges Mountains. The road up to them was very misleading, a gently slope upwards that was exhausting, even though it didn’t look that steep. After 8 miles we had a stop as we were both feeling the pace a bit. As we rested by the side of the road a couple of motorbikes passed at a fair rate..we heard their engines fade but then reappear about 100ft above us, then they faded again, and then re-appeared even higher up…that meant one thing..The switchbacks were about to start. And here started 12 miles of the hardest physical excursion I have ever endured in my life. Switchback after switchback…unrelenting steep hills..we passed 600m above sea level, then 700m..I have to remind you that we had a ‘continental breakfast’ which consisted of 2 croissants and some homemade jam – and that was it! So we were both struggling..My pace was ridiculously slow and every 3rd or 4th swiitchback I had to stop and lie down for air! My legs we on fire and it felt my heart rate was 300! There was nothing in Hampshire that could get you ready for this kind of thing.

Eventually we made it to 950m above sea level. At which point Steve confidently announced – we are at the top. We took photos and looked forward to a downhill ride..however, that downhill ride was very short lived. A mile down the road we made a left and was soon at 1100m. At this point we had to walk for a bit, the effort was just too much. We rode on and on stopping almost every mile for a breather. We got to 1300m and rode into a ski resort, complete with cable cars and a cheese restaurant. I practically collapsed in the carpark while Steve went in to get some water. A minute later he came out swearing about the ignorant German @£$!$ that wouldnt serve him. So I went in, and got some water and chocolate. That absolutely saved us, and after 30 mins rest we felt ready to crack on. Good job too as the sunshine we had enjoyed had rapidly turned to fog and we could see the weather front moving quickly our way, the temperature had dropped significantly and we knew we couldn’t hang about.

Luckily from then on, the rest of the trip was down hill…very down hill. I was free-wheeling at 36mph most of the way! The miles racked up in no time at all.. We went through many pretty villages on a valley road with the mountains either side of us and after a couple of hours of nice easy riding we ended up in St Die – very happy to find our hotel after a HUGE day where we had conquered the Vosges mountains…

If you are reading this and haven’t sponsored us yet, pls do so, we are riding the entire Western Front in aid of the British Legion. You can donate securely online at www.justgiving.com/cyclingtheline

Day 3 of cycling saw us leave St. Die early doors and head north..we had no hotel booked, and planned to travel as far as we could during the day, as day 4’s trip up to Verdun would be a long one..

We thought we had seen the back of the Vosges, but the little smashers had one final leaving present for us… a ruddy great climb as soon as we left the pretty town of Raon-L’-etape which had a moving memorial to its past mayor who had been executed by the Nazis in 1944. The town may have been nice, but the holl the other end of it was a b*&!h, that exhausted us before we had even begun.

To be honest I struggled for the first 10 miles or so, the mountains were still in my legs so to speak, and Steve shot off like a rabbit and left me huffing and puffing away at my own pace (slow). The day started dry but by lunch time the heavens opened and my did they open. We cycled through 20-25 miles of open countryside buffets by howling gales and horizontal rain….which was nice. Once out of the countryside we slipped through numerous small villages, although we are cycling the Western Front of 1914-1918 this part of France also saw plenty of action in WW2. Most of the towns we passed still had their battle scars for all to see..bullet holes in walls, memorial plaques to the Allies and information as to when the town was liberated. and the odd tank..We were really traveling in the footsteps of heroes.

Mercifully the rain let up around mid afternoon, which allowed us to dry out a bit…and we enjoyed some great cycling (albeit hilly – why cant the French build flat roads?) The roads were dead straight but resembled the Loch Ness Monster with big humps as far as the eye could see…until we arrived at a little town called Chateau Salin. We had knocked off 55 miles we decided to stop here and found a little bar/hotel called…something (I forget). Anyhow, this hotel was run by Jean-Claude and his wife, Marie and it had a whole 1 star. But it was dry and warm and we were wet and cold, so I said to myself, Scott my ol’ son, this will doo-hoo…you.

Our host with the most asked us if we wanted dinner, Steve declined as he had just bought himself a gourmet delight from the local Aldi (ham sandwich and a huge packet of crisps), but I said oui…although I had no idea what ‘dinner’ would be.. Our room was ‘cosy’ but it had two beds and he put the bikes in his garage, which was nice. The dinner surprise was served at 7pm…and consisted of eggs for starter, and lasagne for mains….ooh la la! Just what the doctor ordered after a hard day pedaling! Washed down with a couple of petit biers and Scott was a happy chappie..

And so ended our 3rd day cycling the line…Verdun tomorrow..