The Returned

A photograph. It could be anyone. One of hundreds involved in a 'War to end all wars'. Much cracked and faded now, like the memories. He stares straight into the camera, what thoughts are there beyond the eyes? Is there fear of what the future holds, excitement, pride to be fighting for his country. A photograph of a man in uniform, a photograph of not anyone but of my grandfather.

He has a slightly arrogant look as he stares into the camera, his ill fitting uniform probably the best quality clothes, other than those for his wedding, that he has ever worn. The photograph obviously taken in a studio, his hand resting on a mock pillar with drapes and trees in the background. Why was it taken, quite an expensive item for such a poor family?

I never knew him, he died many years before I was born, only knew of him from my mother, my nan never mentioned him. Why? My mother had a few stories, about his black moods when everyone kept away from him, never violent but not a person to be near at these times. My mother born in nineteen fourteen, but the sister born after he returned always the favourite. Maybe this was hopes for the future and despair for the past.

In my trawls through family history sites, always the hope that I was descended from someone really famous, or at least was owed a small fortune left by a lost ancestor, I have found out a little more about him. He joined the militia in 1907 and after his term of service returned to his job in a brass foundry. In 1914 he was called up and joined the South Staffordshire regiment. He was posted to France and in1916 received a head injury. Official reports are very basic, 15/9/14 'Gunshot wound head, admitted to number 5 field ambulance'

19/9/14 admitted to hospital.

23/9/14 admitted to hospital transferred to SS Normania (I think) for passage to England. I imagine many people died whilst awaiting their return to England, was he lucky that he survived the trip?

He was eventually discharged in 1917. Upon his discharge notes made about his character 'Conduct and character have been very good, he is sober, clean honest and industrious.' It seems very little for what he must have endured. He also received the three medals that all soldiers had, and which I have now.

I am sure his life was never the same and the 'black mist' as my mother called it continued to plague him for the rest of his life.

Just one of the hundreds of men who returned from the front, injured and damaged in many ways.

On Rememberance Day we see the rows of white crosses and are shocked by the futility of war but we should also give a thought to those who came back and continued their lives, albeit very different to their hopes of a better future.