My Grandfather enlisted at age 17 to fight the Hun for King and Country. Ypres, Passchendaele, Vimy Ridge and too many other bloody muddy field to mention he fought in them all. He lost a lung to mustard gas, but still soldiered on right until the end. I knew him for over 30 years and if you asked him about the war he would smile and tell one of two stories. Either drinking and celebrating Christmas one year with the Germans in an informal grass roots truce, or the time he was walking across an open field, some would have said and then the red baron came down on him on a strafing run, but Grampa told us, the pilot pulled up at the last moment, waved to him and flew away.
Thank you Grandpa and all your mates down the years and across the centuries that fought and died so we could live the good life we enjoy now.
We will never forget your sacrifice.
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