My Great Grandfather was a Lighthorseman at the battle of the Somme.
Although he survived WWI the mustard gas that he was exposed to shortened his life considerably.
I never met the man and all I have is a photo of him standing in front of a factory on his horse about 10 minutes before the building was bombed by the Germans.
He and his son (whom was a sapper in New Guinea in WWII) didn't ask for us to thank them, insisting instead that it was just what you did at that time.
I know that that today would have been a very special day indeed for him and I could only imagine how he would have felt losing so many of his friends.
It seems like a minute isn't enough, but they wouldn't expect more, after all they were just doing what you did.
No comments:
Post a Comment