November is poppy month, the time of the year when we wear a red poppy in memory of those who sacrificed their lives for us during wars.  Those who have given their lives in the Service of their Country will be honoured for evermore.

Since 1919, on the second Sunday of November, otherwise known as Remembrance Sunday, a two minute silence has been observed at 11am at war memorials, cenotaphs, religious services and shopping centres throughout the UK.  The silence is meant as a tribute to those who lost their lives fighting for their country.

On the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month in 1918 the guns of Europe fell silent. After four years of bitter fighting, The Great War was finally over. The Armistice was signed at 5am in a railway carriage in the Forest of Compiegne, France on November 11, 1918. Six hours later, at 11am, the war ended, and many hoped that “all wars” had ended that day.

After the end of the Second World War in 1945 Armistice Day became Remembrance Day to include all those who had fallen in the two World Wars and other conflicts.  Sadly there are those still giving their lives in the Service of their country today.

The red remembrance poppy has become a familiar emblem of Remembrance Day due to the poem "In Flanders Fields".  During the fierce fighting of the First World War, many fields became battlegrounds and wild habitats were destroyed. In Flanders, or Belgium, where many thousands of people died, the first flower that took seed and grew after this destruction was the poppy. Poppies have been used ever since to remind us of the war, and the sacrifice of those who died to ensure a more secure and free world for all of us.

This page is dedicated to all who lost their lives during wars and in particular for those belonging to our family trees.  
My tribute to the fallen & injured in wars & for their families, who also suffer greatly
& for animals who had no choice.

WE WILL REMEMBER THEM

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.

A memorial near Whitehall, London
The inscription reads:
"From mud through blood to the green fields beyond"

The Royal British Legion

The Royal British Legion helps the whole Armed Forces community through welfare, companionship and representation, as well as being the Nation's custodian of Remembrance. It has been helping Service people past and present since 1921, and although their needs have changed over time the need for the Legion's work is as vital as ever.

Did you know that membership of the Royal British Legion is available to all adults, not just members or ex members of the Forces and they always welcome new members.  In fact they could do with some younger members to help on the committees & in other ways in local towns & villages, such as ours in New Quay.  Why not join a network of people who care about Armed Forces personnel, ex-servicemen & women & their families, and help make a difference. There are 2,500 branches nationwide and overseas.

The Royal British Legion website is http:\\www.britishlegion.org.uk where you can see the history of the Legion & find out what they are currently involved in, as well as being guided through the joining process should you wish to join.

There is also a great website - EVERY ONE REMEMBERED https://www.everyoneremembered.org/  where you can make a difference to keep alive the memory of those who fell in the First World War, for future generations. The British Legion working with the Commonwealth War Graves Commission have set up this website.

You can take part in this truly historic & incredibly significant act of Remembrance.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

by John McCrae, May 1915

Alfred Lewis Shrubsole.  1903-1945.

My Uncle, my mother’s brother.

He died as a result of ongoing problems from the wounds he received during the war, but as he died in July 1945 & the war had ended in May 1945 his name, although originally included, was removed from the Commonwealth War Graves Commission website. How sad; he still gave his life for his country.

He was dead before I was born so I never met him but my mum always talked of him as her favourite brother.

I like to think he has not been forgotten.

Harry Shrubsole 1880-1941 - Seaman

Alfred Ernest Shrubsole 1877-1918 - Stoker in the Royal Navy reported missing.

John Alfred Shrubsole 1900-1917 aboard HMS Calypso.  Commemorated at the Chatham Naval Memorial.

William James Shrubsole 1885 - 1916 - killed in action during the battle of the Somme & is commemorated at Thiepval Memorial. He had only just married in 1914 & his son Charles was born in 1915.

Fred Shrubsole 1884-1916 - killed in action during the battle of the Somme & is commemorated at Thiepval Memorial.

Henry George Shrubsole 1899-1918 - killed in action in France. Commemorated at Poziers Memorial in France & also at Sellindge Memorial, Kent.

Alexander John William Tick 1887-1915 - Mesopotamian Expeditionary Force died 13 Sept 1915 & buried in Basra War Cemetery.

Frank Shrubsole 1881-1918 Sgt in 126th Battalion of CEF.  Died Pas de Calais, France

Gordon Shrubsole 1885-1918 Private in 4th Battalion Worcestershire Regiment.  Died in England as a result of injuries sustained in the war.

William Richard Shrubsole 1897 - 1915  Pte 6th Btn The Buffs (East Kent Regiment).

And for all the others within our family trees that I have yet to discover as having lost their lives during our country’s wars.

Louis Frederick Gardner 1895 -1917

Lance Corporal Louis Frederick Gardner of 58th Btn of the Canadian Infantry died age 22 at Vimy Ridge, France.

He had emigrated to Canada in 1911 with his family. His mother was my great aunt.

This is one of the nicest war poems I have found in a long time & am so pleased to have it on this site.

Remember Me

(The voice of the dead)

 Remember me

 Duty called and I went to war

 Though I'd never fired a gun before

 I paid the price for your new day

 As all my dreams were blown away

 Remember me

 We all stood true as whistles blew

 And faced the shell and stench of Hell

 Now battle's done, there is no sound

 Our bones decay beneath the ground

 We cannot see, or smell, or hear

 There is no death, or hope or fear

 Remember me

 Once we, like you, would laugh and talk

 And run and walk and do the things that you all do

 But now we lie in rows so neat

 Beneath the soil, beneath your feet

 Remember me

 In mud and gore and the blood of war

 We fought and fell and move no more

 Remember me, I am not dead

 I'm just a voice within your head

 Harry Riley

The men I marched beside

Rain is falling on Tamara

churning red mud all around

and by a green capped djebel*

a platoon has gone to ground.

Each is sleeping in his blanket

hearing not the bugle blow.

Tread you lightly, young Tunisian,

past the men I used to know.

Other comrades see not Etna

in that isle across the sea,

for in the cornfields of Catania

lie the men of Forty-Three.

And the Lower Rhine at Arnhem

flows past many that I knew.

They lie their undefeated,

Oaken-hearted, arrow true.

Parachutes are long discarded

on that silent dropping zone

as the line of march goes onward

through Bruneval and Beaune.

I am hearing dead feet marching

on the road to Oosterbeek.

I hear again the roll call

but the called-for do not speak.

They come crowding in around me

those faces of the bold,

and my strength and resolution

are fortified untold.

The spirit that’s within me,

lifts my head in silent pride

recalling days behind me

and the men I’ve marched beside.

Anon

* mountain

This poem was sent to The War Poetry Website by Charlie Marsden (2014) with the following notes by way of explanation:  “My late dad was in 2nd Parachute Battalion 1942 to 1947, & stayed in the Paras & SAS until 1972. He died 2 years ago, and I read this at his funeral. He'd had it tucked away for many years, and never knew who wrote it.

 "The inquisitive mind of a child"

Why are they selling poppies, Mummy?

Selling poppies in town today.

The poppies, child, are flowers of love.

For the men who marched away.

But why have they chosen a poppy, Mummy?

Why not a beautiful rose?

Because my child, men fought and died

In the fields where the poppies grow.

But why are the poppies so red, Mummy?

Why are the poppies so red?

Red is the colour of blood, my child.

The blood that our soldiers shed.

The heart of the poppy is black, Mummy.

Why does it have to be black?

Black, my child, is the symbol of grief.

For the men who never came back.

But why, Mummy are you crying so?

Your tears are giving you pain.

My tears are my fears for you my child.

For the world is forgetting again.

Anon.

Let us also remember the animals in war

The purple poppies commemorate the animals that were injured and lost their lives in conflict. According to the Animals in War Memorial Fund, eight million horses died in the First World War. They were used to transport ammunition and supplies to the front line, but they weren't the only animals involved during this period. Dogs were relied upon for duties including detecting mines and digging out bomb victims, while 100,000 pigeons were used to carry messages.