Remembering the Pals.

Of the Northern regiments who went over the top on this day in 1916 at the Somme

They went over, at 07.30 - same time my alarm went off this morning. By 09.00 - as I type this - most had been massacred.

Loss of a generation. Always remembered.

 

"By ten in the morning, it had all been over. Two out of three men who had gone over the top had become casualties and lay dead or wounded on the gentle slope of ground between their trenches and the German line. The “Pals” who had joined up in all the euphoria of the early weeks of the war; the lads from Leeds, from Bradford, from York, from Lancaster, from Sheffield, from Barnsley, from Hull had been slaughtered in the first short hour of the great battle. The last echoes of the cheers and the shouting, the last faint remembered notes of the brass bands that had sent them off from the towns and villages of the North, had died out in a whisper that morning in front of Serre."


© Lyn Macdonald

 

Always Remember. Never Forget.

 

Not sure how anyone could 'remember' these guys.

 

Well my Grandad was one of them. We think of him today and in November. His name is on the Cudworth and Wombwell memorials. He also has his picture in St Mary’s church grounds but they have spelled his name wrong!

 

Its actually incredible when you really sit and think about it. The bravery and selflessness of literally running, in open fields very often, straight into flying bullets and probable death. Seeing your friends and allies die, bloody and often decapitated, and yet still running towards it. Impeccable heroism and I hope they're all dining in their own paradise

 

What a very, very petty thing to say

 

My dad’s dad is named in that stone book on the Wombwell memorial

 

Could you please explain what you mean ? I honestly don't get it.

 

That hits the nail on the head for me. My own great grandad served in the Bradord Pals; he died the year I was born so any stories I have of him are anecdotal. My 'real-life' stories were told to me by a schoolteacher. In 1977/78 as an 11/12 year old, we had a woodwork teacher, Mr Ibbotson. Strangely, he worked well into his 80's, and more strangely, he was a woodwork teacher who smoked a pipe in lessons. Imagine that now? He always had the haunted look that you saw on a lot of veterans faces - lifelong shell shock I assume. Every July, and every November, he spoke in assembley and regaled us with tales of bullets and decapitations that you mention (his best friend was decapitated next to him). The emotion was raw and he was broken - every year other teachers and staff had to calm him down, console him, and walk him to the staffroom. The kids who had been sniggering at an old man getting emotional became silent themselves. Peer pressure prevented tears no doubt. Everyone was touched.
Sleep well Mr Ibbotson.

 

Currently reading the Barnsley Pals book, it's a very harrowing reading especially recently finding out through family history research that at least 3 uncles were present that day, lucky all 3 weren't in the front groups that went over the top in that first wave that morning, 1 would eventually be killed on the Somme but thankfully 2 did make it through the whole war.

Today we remember their sacrifices RIP

 

An excellent book. My own great grandad was there on the day, with other family members too. RIP all.

 

I'll order the book now, assuming its available online. It would have been a great pleasure meeting your uncles

 

Brave men. My great uncle Thomas was one of them. He was killed on this day serving with KOYLI. A second cousin of mine has recently passed one of his medals on to me together with one awarded to his Younger brother Alfred who was killed in 1918 bizzarely enough serving with the Highland Light Infantry.

 

Great story to tell, mate. Sleep well indeed, Mr Ibbotson

 

My Grandad was in the magnificently named (for Barnsley anyway) KOYLIs as well Didcot -Kings Own Yorkshire Light Infantry as you will know. No war grave as such since there was nothing left to recover and bury I suppose, but instead a name on a wall at Thiepval.
It's not hard to see why he would have joined up; three meals a day, uniform, regular pay, fresh air and see the world, instead of 11 to a house on Station Road Wombwell and working down the pit. I imagine a lot thought it a great escape . They clearly got more than they bargained for.
A relative did some research and we have it down to about half a mile where he must have been killed. I googled street mapped it and a more featureless landscape it's hard to imagine. Nearly 60,000 died on the first day fighting over that bloody wilderness.
We try to keep his memory alive in the Cortonwood Community Centre after the ceremony at the memorial just outside in November-this by sharing a bottle of Irish and drinking a toast to him and the rest of them.
He was 26 at the time.

 

Our ancestors must have lived very close to each other as my great grand dad & his family were lived in overcrowded conditions in Station Road Wombwell according to the 1911 census.

 

I think he means that there is nobody left alive who would be old enough to have met one of these poor heroes. All we have now is names and handed down stories, photos and medals.

 

I'm presuming at some point you received an education and in that education you learnt something of these men and boys and what happened to them. They are therefore in your memory. Dictionary definition of remember:
to retain in the memory; keep in mind; remain aware of:
As we presently stand in the shadow of a European war, I'd argue remembering these lads is as important now as ever

 

I'd argue we would be better off looking forward, not back.