248129 Pte. Percival Howard Preston British Army 5th Battalion Royal Sussex Regiment from:Bourton-on-the-Water Battle of the Somme Poziers Bridge was where my grand-father Percy Preston was captured in WWI. He was born in 1883, the eldest of nine children. I have a postcard copy of a water colour depicting the family cottage with its idyllic surroundings. The Cotswold village of Bourton-on-the-Water had on its outskirts the river Windrush in which cool waters he loved to paddle. Depicted also, is a lone fisherman casting his rod by the old curved bridge, all this enclosed and encircled by a range of tall, graceful, trees of various shades of leaf.
He left school, aged fourteen, and was trained as a master tailor under the watchful eye of my grandfather. No doubt he rode his much loved racing bike everywhere, including to the local Drill Hall where he finally completed twelve years in the TF Territorial Force as one of the Originals in the 5th Battalion, Royal Sussex Regiment, formed April 1st, 1908.
Early into 1916 he was fed as a replacement into France, leaving behind a pregnant wife and young daughter my mother was born on 4th September, 1916. Between 23rd and 27th of July 1916, he was captured on the barbed wire while fighting in the Battle of the Somme at the Battle of Poziers Bridge, and was a POW in Germany for two and a half years.
In 1918 he returned home to Bexhill, in Sussex, and my mother was told he was her new daddy whereupon, studying his pale face and gaunt appearance, she stated, I don't like you. He was in stark contrast to the fresh pink faced officer with very white teeth who fed her chocolate. She recalled his trembling fingers holding his tape measure when fitting his children's new school uniforms and the Sunday dinner thrown into the garden, where the family cat enjoyed the surprise and my mother was glad it wasn't wasted. In 1939, the family's tiny radio gave the news were at war with Germany, whereupon he burst into tears and rushed upstairs.
On leaving the South Coast and setting up a small shop in Stroud, Gloucestershire, he suffered from agoraphobia and would venture timidly next door where the local barber gave him a shave and haircut. Aged 81 years and clad in his best smart Sunday suit, he returned home one day after his usual stroll. With the 18 year old tabby cat purring on his lap, and his trusty bike in the hall, he died of a heart attack while sharing a cup of tea with his beloved wife.
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