In Kassel, I visited the Niederzwehren Cemetery several times, which honours the British soldiers of the First World War: https://www.peter-roos.de/militaer/Kriegsgraber/Ndzw_Cemetery/ndzw_cemetery.html

But despite everything: mankind just doesn’t learn, it’s shocking what’s happening in Europe at the moment. And I am simply short of words.

Love & Peace
ACHIM

Old men who start wars should be taken out and shot.

My late mum’s uncle Edgar was a cheerful chap by all accounts. Mum remembered a beautiful doll bought by him and his lovely wife Emma and always remembered visiting them in Forest Gate and playing with her cousins. They were her favourite uncle and aunt. I found great uncle Edgar’s full service record. He was enlisted into the London Regiment and then assigned to the Labour Corps. I found records of his training and posts. One of the tasks that he would have performed was to bury the dead. Uncle Edgar was discharged in 1919 due to being unfit because of dysphoria, written on his record, with a question mark. In a journal I read a definition of dysphoria (related to a WWI veteran diagnosis) as being: “A range of negative emotions including guilt.” He must have witnessed terrible sights and missed his family, burying his brothers in arms. I was so pleased that in later life, he was happy. He worked as a bar manager at the Fox Connaught Inn in Royal Albert Dock, which still exists today.

The other family member who I have a full service record for is William Nelson Sloper, my first cousin, twice removed (I believe) and lived in London Lane, Hackney, with his mother, Elizabeth, father also William, and seven other siblings. By the time he enlisted in 1914, he was the only surviving child and Elizabeth had been widowed. Initially, he only served for four months when, discovering that he had flat feet and was unable to “fall in”, he was discharged. In July 1915, he signed up again with the Middlesex Regiment and it appeared that his flat feet were less of an issue this time. He was posted to the Somme and was presumed to have died in the Battle of Delville Wood, a year to the day he enlisted, in 1916, aged just 23. His mother died in 1920 and sadly never received William’s service medal. Instead, this was sent to his great aunt, Eleanor Crudgington, aka Elena Estelle, the ballet mistress who I have previously written of.
Both of my grandfathers also served but sadly, it seems that their service records did not survive. Grandad Apthorp proudly displayed a photograph of the Cycle Corps battalion (presumably the 25th London) on the wall of his cafe. Grandad Taylor was orphaned aged 17 and joined the Dorsetshire Regiment. Why he joined the Dorsets while living in Bethnal Green is rather a mystery! He moved between a number of regiments and was posted to India and the Middle East. He trained as a nurse after having received initial training whilst in the army. I always remember him illustrating, using my knee, how to perform a quick amputation of the lower leg. It seems that this was his speciality during his army years. When anaesthesia was scarce, speed was a desirable trait in a surgeon. Later, he specialised in autopsy and worked under Sir Bernard Spilsbury. If ever we required a gruesome story, he had far too many to tell.
I remember their, and their comrades’, service this Remembrance Sunday.

Thank you for this post, the doorways, and the stories.

“Everything is held together with stories. That is all that is holding us together. Stories and compassion.” — Barry Lopez

I was recently in a country pub in a small village in Surrey and they had a tribute book telling the stories of all the local men and boys who had died in the First World War and it was tragic seeing how so many families had lost more than one beloved member.

When will we ever learn??