|
|
This website uses cookies. By continuing to use this site you agree to accept cookies.
If you enjoy this site please consider making a donation.
Site Home
Help & FAQs
Features
Submissions
Information
Advertisements
World War 1 One ww1 wwII greatwar great 1914 1918 first battalion regiment
Pte Percy James March
British Army 9th Royal Fusiliers Royal Fusiliers (City of London Regt)
from:Battersea, London
Pte. Ernest William Marchant
British Army 1st Battalion Coldstream Guards
from:Freshford, Bath
Recently a small parcel arrived in the post from England. In it was a box, well made of thick cardboard with metal reinforcement at its edges. It is a spectacle container designed to be sent, as is, through the post. On the top are Grandpas address and the senders details: F.I. Tovey, Optician, New Bond Street, Bath. It cost threepence to send and is postmarked 15th November 1920. Within the box are several things, the most important being a small army-issue notebook. It is a diary written by my grandfather during the Great War of 1914-1918 and covers the period September 1917 to just after hostilities ceased. There are daily entries and, jotted on the last few pages, some little bits of soldiers philosophy written in the style of those times.
He enlisted on February 23rd, 1915; a married man aged 36 and five months, a master mason and father of five small children. I assume enlisted means what it says on his attestation form for it seems improbable that conscription could have gathered him up so early in the war. However, the squire held a majority in the Coldstream Guards and had a company raised almost exclusively of men from the parish, so peer pressure probably accompanied the general euphoria of the day. That grandpa was military-minded is undoubted - his army papers show him as serving in the militia, 1st Volunteer Battalion, Wiltshire Regiment so I think the chance to go to war might well have been impossible to deny. His motives could have been patriotism, adventure or escape. Most likely it was a combination, or rationalisation, of all three.
The Guards being what they are, it would have taken most of the year to turn him into a proficient soldier despite his service in the reserve, for this was well before the tragedy of Haigs half-trained boys. The Coldstreamers were proud and a man had to prove himself before he was shown the enemy.
I look across the lush green lawn at the toddlers, screaming and dancing with delight as they push one another under the sprinkler then throw themselves, chubby arms linked, into the paddling pool. For today, Armistice Day, is seasonably warm. The barbie is nearly ready and I must feed my grandchildren and their parents.
Life at the front was the usual mixture of boredom, discomfort and terror. Of plum-and-apple [jam]; Pass the grease [margarine]; Stand to! then, all too often, Over the top!
Whatever it was really like he endured; fighting in the mud, on the firing step or crouched fearfully in a funkhole as enemy howitzers blasted his trench. He was in the front line for somewhat over six months. It probably felt like a lifetime.
- Life is a duty - bear it
- Life is a burden - bear it
- Life is a burden - wear it
Bond St, Rotten Row, St Julien, Metigny, Morlancourt were his battlegrounds, and Mealthe, Flers, Lavantic and Mailly.
A true countryman, he would have been comforted by the copses and undergrowth, before they were bombarded into water-filled craters, that formed the woods known as Magnet, Trony, Deville Pozieres and, with grim irony, Sanctuary. Side by side with his mates he defended trenches at Martinpuick, Coulitte, Les Boeufs and what he records as Ypres St Jean. In the front line they learned the hard way to be philosophical about their predicament
- My belongings leave to my next of kin
- My purse is empty - theres nothing in
- My rifle, uniform, pack and kit
- I leave to the next poor devil itll fit
- But if this war I manage to clear
- Ill keep them all for a souvenir.
On rare occasions he was plucked from the front line and sent home to England to freshen up. No showers, no change of clothes. My grandmother would scrub him clean in the big tin bath in front of the fire then wash and press his uniform. The days off were a nicely calculated minimum to get him ready to return to battle.
- Life is a game of cricket
- Mans the player, tall and stout
- Standing to defend his wicket
- Lest misfortune bowl him out.
For Grandpa it was a minenwerfer shell, surely with each of their names upon it, that entombed his whole Section. His comrades were all killed, I hope instantaneously. It took two days to find Grandpa and dig him out of the collapsed trench.
A few years back, my Uncle Basil, at 78, made the journey to Australia to visit us. He told me that Leslie, his eldest brother and my father, was alone in the cottage in 1916 when the postman - their uncle - toiled up the steep incline of Staples Hill to deliver a War Office telegram. My whole remembrance of Dad clicked into a different perspective when Basil recalled that ten year old Les kept the dreaded Missing in Action to himself. The first my grandmother knew was when, three days later, a telegram of reassurance arrived to say her husband had been found alive. The diary merely records that he was clouted out. This was at Le Transloy, on the banks of a gentle if muddy stream called The Somme. The official record is equally succinct: GSW Legs 20/11/16, in the Field. To the War Office, GSW [gun shot wounds] obviously covered a multitude of injuries.
November 1916 marked the end of the first great Somme battle, where nearly a million men were lost for an advance or retreat of a derisory few muddy yards. Grandpa had served the whole of the campaign
As a Blighty his wound was effective; for nine months he stayed in bed in a military hospital in the north of England. He lost no limb but, just as he had carved many a headstone before the war and many a trench on the Somme, so did France gouge his whole being.
From then, he says, 'it was all downhill.'
The garden is quiet now; the littlies have gone to bed, their parents are off to a party and grandpa is babysitting. On the patio I lean back in the old cane chair and think. So much about war. Yet my father was just too old for 39-45. As a Nasho I missed Korea by one training course. Vietnam was not applicable in UK. Perhaps young people will start to judge for themselves when the recruiting sergeants start to sing their siren song. Perhaps the future for my grandchildren is looking better and better. Its certainly more secure than in the past, when people really did believe their leaders were, by definition, right.
He was eventually transferred to Windsor Castle on light duties. These comprised duty as usual (unspecified in the diary), haircut parades, blanket-shaking, coal-carrying, Church Parade on Sunday and, every fortnight, a visit to the MO for TMB. It seems this was a medical board to determine his progress, and thus his fitness to return to the front.
In the event, he remained B3 for eighteen months, enveloped in a tedium of convalescence.
- Mans ingress - naked and bare be
- Mans progress - trouble and care
- Mans egress the Devil know where.
The post, which was the only method of long distance communication available to private soldiers, provided some respite. Every day he wrote to my grandmother and every day he received a letter by return, sometimes folded within his local newspaper. On occasion the children, Marjorie, Les, Bill, Reg or Basil, would add a word or two or even send a card to the father they were beginning to forget.
Grandpa inevitably posted his letters at the Main Gate of the barracks. Then, if the evening were fine, he would continue his walk to Oakley Green to call in at the Nags Head.
The monotony was interspersed by occasional weekend visits home, each journey recorded in meticulous detail: left Windsor 2.40 p.m.; Paddington 4 p.m.; arrived Freshford 7.17 via Trowbridge. The children of course were all there, so seven in the tiny thatched cottage must have been a bit of a squeeze. I can just remember visiting my grandmother some thirty years on and recall in detail the tiny kitchen in which she cooked on a Primus stove making, endlessly it seemed, jams, cakes and pies, and the cramped surroundings where on four needles she knitted socks, always grey. The weekend, therefore, would be taken up in strolls. By our standards they were all prodigious walkers, simply through necessity - cars or even horses were not for the working class. Around Freshford the Avon valley is extremely steep and destinations along level roads are very few.
Nevertheless, the diary records double three-mile trips to Westwood on Sundays for morning and evening chapel service. I think my Grandmother, the believer in the family, went to witness her unfailing gratitude. Grandpa, I suspect, just went.
There were walks to Iford with six year old Basil to stand on the little stone bridge that was adorned with the statue of Britannia (Boer War?) then perhaps another precipitous mile down to Avoncliffe where as a stonemason Grandpa had worked for Mr Jordan. He even made the six mile hike to Bradford-on-Avon to buy a new watch to replace that broken by a billiard ball in the Windsor Barracks YMCA. Then, when the children were bedded down, there would be a short stroll with Agnes before turning in. But, come Monday morning, it was always back to barracks, the journey recorded, train time by train time.
If anything these weekends heightened his fear of being sent back to the Western Front. From Windsor Castle he was allowed home reasonably often but never is there any indication that the War Office was about to give him his freedom. In England the philosophy that God was on the side of the big battalions died hard. Get them well, get them back! was the cry. It doesn't go unrecorded in the diary: Last night all men recalled off leave. Confined to barracks. Got the wind up.
He sees drafts of B1 men leaving for France at midnight and towards the end the diary entry is a stark regraded B2. Obviously there was nothing more to say. The constant and near tangible spectre of trenches, rats, lice, mud and the Hun bombardment hovered above him.
- The fortunes of war
- Be you ever so bold
- Is a mound of earth
- Or a stripe of gold
It didnt happen, though. Time and time again he was passed fit only for light duties and remained on the roster at Windsor Castle. Presented arms to the Royal family. Opened the gate for Prince of Wales. King arrived castle by motor.
All this is noted, as is knocked out Bandsman Blake (but no explanation). More often now, Roll on or Roll on my three appears at the end of each days entry. The Hun, he says, is still on the run stuff to give them! He can sense the end of things - in a barracks the right information has a way of trickling through.
On October 13, 1918: The Huns shouting Kamerad. But on the first day of November yet another huge draft of men leaves for France. Then, suddenly it seems, its all over: 8/11 Hun peace envoys over lines. 10/11 Hohenzolleren abdicates.
The next day: ARMISTICE DAY - war over, town [Windsor] beflagged. Then, at the end of the page three years nine months service today. But they still wouldnt let him go home. I dont know how my grandmother coped. Perhaps her gratitude to her God for her husbands survival overcame all hardship. He was kept on duty at the Castle throughout that Christmas:
Xmas Eve, Roll on. Napoo...
Indeed, il ny en plus.
At last, in February 1919, he was demobilised via the Dispersal Centre at Fovant, near Portsmouth. Here, apart from the administration of his release, they gave him very little - a suit, five pounds [$10] and a rail ticket home. He arrived in Freshford at 10.30 p.m. (train times diligently recorded, as usual) and for the next few days was able to record tres bon times as he enjoyed his furlough.
But all too soon it was back to Avoncliffe to work as a mason for ninepence an hour: went fairly well, very cold, hands not used to mallet and chisels. Then after work and at the weekends there was the cottage to whitewash, the garden to re-establish and a family to be cared for in a land fit for heroes.
- What is life?
- A little gush
- A little rush
- A little hush
Perhaps the light duties, standing guard at Windsor Castle, were easier for a man to take than what he perceived to be his future at home. Perhaps the mateship of the battalion and the sense of away-ness from the need to assume total responsibility for his growing family, in the most honourable manner of course, made life in uniform again appear more attractive.
I have been unable to discover any subsequent diary - he probably couldnt see any point in continuing to record his what, mundane? lifestyle - and the saddest part of the notebook comes at the very end, just over five months after peace broke out.
He has received one pound, seventeen shillings and sixpence (less than $5) for 55 hours work as a stonemason. In what little spare time available to him he has had to augment this paltry sum by looking after the schoolmasters garden. Ding-dong existence no change same old routine miss the Old Brigade.
Slipped between the pages of the diary there are three snapshots. First is dated December 1915, when he became a trained Coldstreamer. It is a studio portrait, and he poses self-consciously. He is in full uniform, puttees, cheese-cutter cap and swagger stick. He looks very confident and his waxed moustache adds an air of arrogance.
The second tells me he must have recovered, to the extent possible, from his terrible injuries, for this photo sees him in uniform once more. But it is not the dashing, tailored, tight-fitting guardsmans outfit that he now wears. No; although its again a suit of khaki, the baggy trousers and a shapeless blouse signal the army surplus garb that in 1939 was handed out, with scant resort to measurement, to ex-soldiers. The Local Defence Volunteers they were called, a name as dull as its uniform. Churchill hated LDV so gave it some oomph as the much more newsworthy Home Guard. Its fame now rests with the TV program Dads Army, which depends for its humour on laughing at the antics of the old-timers. I note, though, that in this picture Grandpa is shouldering a Lee Enfield .303, the rifle that had been his friend. Nevertheless, he looks as if hes well aware of the difference in his appearance.
The third picture has Grandpa in civvies. Here he once again stands straight and severe as befits a guardsman but now he is wearing a countrymans baggy tweeds and flat cap. Five years old in my new sailor suit, I am sitting on the carrier of his sit-up-and-beg bicycle. It is Easter 1940. He died at end of that the year, of cancer. With what we know now its not inconceivable that the seeds of his death were sown on the battlefields of France. Im sure, though, that he would have considered that notion in some way insulting to his dead comrades.
At the bottom of the spectacle box, tucked beneath the notebook and wrapped in ancient tissue paper, are his three service and campaign medals, one of them engraved: The Great War For Civilisation 1914-1919. These gewgaws were dismissed with contempt as Pip, Squeak and Wilfred by millions of unemployed veterans in the immediate postwar years, when the struggle for survival was almost as desperate as any spell in the front line.
At the end of the diary, written on the inside cover in a very continental hand perhaps in an estaminet quite late at night by who I like to imagine was a compassionate and pretty mademoiselle is Le Bon Temps Viendra. Alas, for Grandpa it was a brave but hollow hope.
Vale, 15544 Private Ernest William Marchant, Coldstream Guards, shelled in the front line at the very end of the disaster known as the First Somme campaign and buried beneath stinking mud, thence to return home to pain, hardship and poverty.
But Im sure he would deride all that. After all, he would have said, in just twenty weeks a million soldiers from both sides died in that battle - and I didnt.
Rflmn. F. Marchant
British Army 7th Battalion Rifle Brigade
F. Marchant served with the 7th Battalion Rifle Brigade. I found papers and medals relating to him amongst papers kept by my mother. They were with her father's medals and I have no idea why she had them. My Grandfather was in the West Yorkshire Regiment and as far as I know, was not a prisoner of war. I added F Marchant as he should not be forgotten.
Pte. George R.S. Marchant
British Army Suffolk Regiment
L/Cpl. George Frederick Marchant
British Army Worcestershire Regiment
from:Battersea, London
George Marchant was a professional soldier from 1902 - 1912 serving in India with the Gurka regiment. He joined the Worcestershire Regiment in 1914 and served until seriously wounded at Ypres and returned to Great Britain. He refused to have his arm amputated and eventually recovered from his wounds. He re-enlisted in 1916 in The Labour Corps again serving on the Front. He was eventually badly wounded again on The Somme and returned to Great Britain. I would dearly love to find out which Company of the Labour Corps he served with. He did talk of the Chinese soldiers to my Grandmother and Father.
CSM. George Thomas Marchant
British Army 2nd Btn. South Wales Borderers
from:St Pancras
(d.19th May 1917)
Rfm Joseph John Marchant
British Army 16th Bn Kings Royal Rifle Corps
from:London
(d.24th Aug 1916)
To commemorate the 100th anniversary of the beginning of the Battle of the Somme, I want to share with you a letter received by my great-grandparents in October 1916. It was from a complete stranger who had buried their son's body. My great-uncle Joe was 20 years old when he died on the Somme on August 24th 1916. His sister (my lovely Nan - Violet Eames nee Marchant) was 5 years old the day the telegram arrived and, all her life, she told me how she could still remember her mother's screams coming from the kitchen. He was S/15523 Rifleman Joseph John Marchant of the King's Royal Rifle Corps. He was one of 419, 654 British soldiers to die during the long battle. God bless every one of them. I'm so proud of him. The two letters found on him were to his parents and to his fiancee, Gracie Pennington. She grieved for him for over 20 years before she finally asked permission, of my great-grandparents, to marry.
From 1st Southern General Hospital, Kings Heath, Birmingham on 22/10/1916 P2078 Lance Corporal Ernest Norris of the Mounted Military Police writes "Dear Friends, Just a few lines to tell you that on the 9th inst whilst I was crossing the battle field in France I saw a dead comrade laid some distance from the firing lines and he had been missed by the burying party. I looked in his pockets for his pay book to find out what he belonged to and found he was 15523 Joseph Marchant 16 KRR 9 Platoon. There was also two letters which he had wrote ready to be posted. One was to Mr & Mrs Marchant 59 Cowper Road Stoke Newington London and one to Miss Pennington 145 West Green Road Seven Sisters Road Tottenham London. I thought I had better write to you as you may not know what had become of your son. I may say that I buried him at night and made him a good grave. He had some photographs but I considered to put them in the poor lads grave as they had been spoilt with the rain. He must have been killed about six weeks or two months ago by his appearance and the dates on the letters he had written in his pay book. I didn't bury him in a cemetary as there was not one near and it was a risky job as the Germans had a clear view but the nearest village to his grave is Flers on the Somme district. I got a bullet wound the next morning at 8am and have been sent to this hospital. Friends I trust I have not brought any bad memories back to you but thought it was best to write to you as you would be wondering what had become of the poor boy. You have my deepest sympathy at your great loss. I remain yours respectfully Cpl E Norris PS I will furnish you with more information if you require it"
What a wonderfully generous act of humanity and bravery to risk his own life to bury a stranger and then to take the trouble to write to his family. I wish with all my heart I could thank him. I have tried, many times over the years, to trace his family but to no avail. I would love them to know what he did for my great-uncle.
Pte. William Marchant
British Army 29th Btn. Machine Gun Corps
from:Brighouse, West Riding
(d.10th Apr 1918)
William Marchant born 23rd of Jan 1898 in Bradford, West Yorkshire was the oldest son of Charles James Marchant and Sarah Ann Bourne. He died in France and Flanders, killed in Action with 2 officers and another soldier on 10th of April 1918
Originally he signed up to the West Riding Regiment, the Duke of Wellingtons and transferred to Machine Gun Corps on 28th of December 1916. His British War Victory Medal was accepted by his father in Brighouse on 26th of April 1922.
He is remembered on the Ploegsteert Memorial in Belgium. He was the eldest brother to my maternal grandmother Lily Watson nee Marchant.
Pte. Robert Bruce Marchbank
British Army 12th Btn, C Coy. Kings Liverpool Regiment
from:Liverpool
(d.19th Aug 1918)
Pte. Arthur Ernest Marchbanks
British Army 1st Battalion East Yorkshire Regiment
from:Jarrow
(d.27th Oct 1917)
Arthur Ernest Marchbanks served with the 1st Battalion East Yorkshire Regiment. He was aged 26 when he died on 27th October 1917. Born in Jarrow in 1891, he was the son of James and Elizabeth Marchbanks (nee Scot), he lived and enlisted Jarrow.
Arthur is buried in Lijssenthoek Military Cemetery. He is commemorated on the Palmer Cenotaph (west face) Jarrow, on the Triptych in St. Paul's Church Jarrow and he was also commemorated on the Triptych (right panel) in St. Mark's Church Jarrow (it is no longer a Church)
Pte. Thomas Diedrich Marcussen
New Zealand Army New Zealand Mounted Machine Gun Squadron
from:Musselburgh, Dunedin
(d.4th Dec 1918)
Thomas Marcussen was the son of Mrs. Agnes Marcussen of 5 Prince's St., Musselburgh, Dunedin. Born at Bluff, Southland. He served on the Western Front in 1917. He was 22 when he died and is buried in the Bluff Cemetery, Southland District, New Zealand.
Sgt. Charles Marden
British Army B Coy., 11th Btn. Royal Fusiliers
Stokr1. Edwin James Marden
Royal Navy Drake Battalion
from:Portsmouth
Edwin Marden served with Drake Battalion, Royal Naval Division.
2AB. Frank Joseph Mareburger
U.S. Navy USS Lenape
from:Oklahoma City, OK
Frank Mareburger was assigned to the USS Lenape on 25th of July 1917.
L/Cpl. Frederick William John Marett
British Army 8th Battalion East Lancashire Regiment
from:Weaste, Lancs
(d.15th July 1916)
Frederick Marett served with 8th Battalion East Lancashire Regiment. I am researching Frederick for my grand daughters.
Pte. Frederick George Margrove
British Army 11th Battalion att. 54 Mortar Battery Royal Fusiliers
from:35, Sandford Avenue, Wood Green, London.
(d.2nd Nov1917)
Uncle Fred Margrove, who I never knew, volunteered for duty in September 1914, joining the 11th Battalion Royal Fusiliers and was later attached to 54th Mortar Battery. After training, at Muswell Hill and on Salisbury Plain, he proceeded to Folkestone and embarked for Boulogne.
Along with his Battalion he fought on the Somme battle front between 1914 and 1916. He then went to the Ypres Salient and was involved in the '3rd Battle of Ypres (Passchendale) where he was mortally wounded near Poelcappelle. He subsequently died of his wounds and is buried at Dozinghem cemetery. He was one of thirteen children, of whom my mother was one. I have been researching him for two years now but, so far, have been unable to find a photograph of him.
Rflmn. William Mariner VC
British Army 2nd Btn. B Coy King's Royal Rifle Corps
from:Lower Broughton, Manchester.
(d.1st July 1916)
William Mariner died on the 1st July 1916, aged 34 and is commemorated on The Thiepval Memorial in France. he was the son of Mrs. Alice Wignall, of 18, Fletcher St., Lower Broughton, Manchester.
An extract from The London Gazette dated 23rd June, 1915, records the following:-"During a violent thunderstorm on the night of 22nd May, 1915, he left his trench near Cambrin, and crept out through the German wire entanglements till he reached the emplacement of a German machine gun which had been damaging our parapets and hindering our working parties. After climbing on the top of the German parapet he threw a bomb in under the roof of the gun emplacement and heard some groaning and the enemy running away. After about a quarter of an hour he heard some of them coming back again, and climbed up on the other side of the emplacement and threw another bomb among them left-handed. He then lay still while the Germans opened a heavy fire on the wire entanglement behind him, and it was only after about an hour that he was able to crawl back to his own trench. Before starting out he had requested a serjeant to open fire on the enemy's trenches as soon as he had thrown his bombs. Rifleman Mariner was out alone for one and half hours carrying out this gallant work".
Pte. Nicolas Marino
British Army 2nd Btn. Scots Guards
from:Edinburgh
(d.19th Apr 1916)
Nicolas Marino was my great-grandfather, the son of Joseph Marino, a professional violinist from Italy. He was killed in action at the age of 19. He had one child, my grandmother, Helen Marino, who was born in June 1915. He is remembered at the Menin Gate in Ypres.
Bmdr. James Edward Mariutto
British Army 138th Heavy Battery Royal Garrison Artillery
from:Dowgate Wharf, London
James Mariutto was one of the sons of Giovanni Mariutto, an Italian from Cavasso Nuovo, Udine, who came to London to run the company Diespeker & Co., on behalf of Luigi Oderico - they were specialists in mosaics and terrazzo. His mother was Sarah Matilda Webb, who came from Littlebury, Essex, and was in service in London, where she met Giovanni. James was born in Holloway, on 10th November 1893. In the 1901 Census the family were living at 45 Queen's Head Street, Islington.
In the summer of 1915, he was a Customs Officer, but then enlisted with the 138th Battery, Royal Garrison Artillery the Hampstead Heavies. He was allocated to the Sub B (right) section. After being in action around the area of Bethune, they were transferred to Ypres, and the Battery was located in what was left of the town, between the Cloth Hall and the Prison. As detailed in the War Diary, he received a bad shrapnel wound to the upper left leg over the night of 7th/8th June 1917, this was at the time that the Battle of Messines Ridge was in progress. After initial dressing, he was later repatriated via a casualty clearing station.
Following further treatment in the UK, he was sent to a Red Cross auxiliary facility, Adelaide Hospital, in Blackpool, Lancashire. This was a former small hotel, his wife-to-be, Gertrude Mary Daniel, was the daughter of the owner. They married in the second quarter of 1921 and had two daughters. The family name was changed to Marriott in the late 1920s.
James never fully recovered from his leg wound, but was initially able to gain employment with Blackpool Corporation, as a tram driver. After WW2, he was only able to work part-time, as an office cleaner. The couple moved to a sheltered ground-floor flat in 1974, from which time he was always in a wheelchair. He died at the end of 1980, in Rossall Hospital, Fleetwood.
Sgt. William John Mark MM.
British Army 9th Battalion Machine Gun Corps
from:Glasgow, Scotland
William John Mark joined up in 1915 at the age of 17, a boy from Glasgow. He started in the Highland Light Infantry and served in France, Mesopotamia and stayed after the war in Germany. He was awarded the Military Medal for destroying a machine gun nest.
After the war he came out to Australia and eventually settled in Sydney where he had a farm. He served in the 2nd World War training cadets as a Warrant Officer. He died in the 1950's.
Pte Joseph Marker
British Army Royal Devon
from:Budleigh Salterton
My Grandfather fought in World War I in the trenches. Before the War he lived and worked in Budleigh Salterton,Devon, where he was born. He was a Draper's Assistant in a smart Gentleman's Outfitters. And I do remember him always looking smart - with a gold watch and chain. He went to Exeter Barracks when he was called up - but in the latter years of his life we took him over towards Wareham where the tank regiment now is. He remembered training on the heathland. When I was a little girl he mentioned eating rats whilst he was serving in France! He was injured at the Battle of the Somme and came home on the King of Belgium's yacht - though not in style. He was 2 days in a shell hole in the winter and frost - and suffered desperately from frost bite. He was also deafened and had a leg wound. When he arrived back in England, he was sent to a Convalescent Home in Brighton - run by nuns - I have some p/cards of it with the servicemen lying in their beds in rows.Eventually he returned home to Budleigh to my grandmother and Dad.
Life was very hard - he got 10 shillings a week war pension (after a long fight - there was no British Legion then, it was just before they were formed). He and Grandma had an allotment and grew vegetables and had chickens (but only for eggs, as Granddad would not allow them to be killed, he was a very kind and generous man). Grandma took in lodgers and somehow or another they owned their own house. Granddad did work for the Rechabites and also became the local Secretary and Welfare Officer of the Royal British Legion. He had no transport, but walked miles on his crutches collecting peoples shillings. But more often than not, trying to open the orphans and widows living on next to nothing - he got them coal and food allowances. He served on the Parish Council for about 40 years. His son, my dad, Bill Marker, also served in the Devon Regiment in World War II before being transferred to the Royal Sussex and later volunteering for the Royal Navy (Signals). Dad died last year. I remember them both with great love and great pride.
Lt.Col. Raymond John Marker DSO, MID.
Coldstream Guards Coldstream Guards
from:Devon
(d.13th Nov 1914)
The 13th November 1914 saw the death of Lieutenant Colonel Raymond Marker DSO, who was the son in law of Sir Thomas and Lady Jackson of Stansted House and the brother in law of Claude Stewart Jackson.
Lord Kitchener has lost another of his trusted comrades by the death on November 13th 1914 from wounds received in action. Raymond Marker had been previously decorated with the Legion of Honour by the President of the French Republic, with the approval of the King for gallantry during the operations of the British Forces in the battles between August 21st and 30th 1914. The first news to arrive back home was that he had been seriously wounded. His left leg had been amputated, and his right arm broken. News filtered back from the front that he was going on as well as can be expected in a French Base Hospital at Boulogne, but he later succumbed to his wounds.
For his services in the Great War he was mentioned in Sir John French’s dispatches of the 8th October, 1914, and the 14th January 1915. His wounds were received when he was hit by a shell outside the reporting centre of the 1st Army Corps at Ypres on 4th November 1914. He married the daughter of Sir Thomas and Lady Jackson in 1906 and left a son Richard Raymond born on 18th June, 1908. His details are as follows – Colonel Raymond John Marker, General Staff, Died of Wounds 13th November 1914 aged 47. He is buried at Gittasham Churchyard, Devon.
Pte. Charles Frederick Markham
British Army 2nd Btn. Kings Own Yorkshire Light Infantry
from:Yorkshire
(d.3rd Mar 1915)
My Great Uncle Charles Markham was killed in WW1 unfortunately his body was never found. His name is registered on Ploegsteert Memorial.
Pte. W. Markham
British Army 24th (Tyneside Irish) Battalion Northumberland Fusiliers
from:Durham City
Cpl. Frank Augustus Markin MM
British Army 9th Btn. Welsh Regiment
from:14 Bosworth Rd, Skewen
(d.28th July 1916)
Frank Markin served with the 9th Btn. Welsh Regiment.
Pte. Joseph Markland
British Army 1st/5th Btn. Manchester Regiment
from:11 Branch Street, Ince, Wigan
(d.10th Aug 1915)
Joseph Markland served with the 1st/5th Battalion, Manchester Regiment.
Lt.Col. George Frederick Handel Marks
British Army Royal Army Medical Corps
(d.3rd May 1915)
Lieutenant Colonel Marks is buried in the Dalhousie Civil Cemetery in India.
Lt. H. H. Marks MC.
Army 10th Btn. Durham Light Infantry
Lt. J. Marks
Army 15th Btn. Durham Light Infantry
Lt. James Ganly Marks
British Army 1/5th Btn. Seaforth Highlanders
from:Belfast City
(d.23rd Mar 1918)
Lieutenant James Ganly Marks of the 1/5th Seaforth Highlanders was killed in action on the 23rd of March 1918. The photo is of James Marks standing in front of his home in Belfast Ireland. His father was a linen merchant and had the same name as his son. The second photo is a photo of his grave cross photographed during the war.
Page 14 of 102
Can you help us to add to our records?
The names and stories on this website have been submitted by their relatives and friends. If your relations are not listed please add their names so that others can read about them
Did your relative live through the Great War? Do you have any photos, newspaper clippings, postcards or letters from that period? Have you researched the names on your local or war memorial?
If so please let us know.
Do you know the location of a Great War "Roll of Honour?"We are very keen to track down these often forgotten documents and obtain photographs and transcriptions of the names recorded so that they will be available for all to remember.
Help us to build a database of information on those who served both at home and abroad so that future generations may learn of their sacrifice.
Celebrate your own Family History
Celebrate by honouring members of your family who served in the Great War both in the forces and at home. We love to hear about the soldiers, but also remember the many who served in support roles, nurses, doctors, land army, muntions workers etc.
Please use our Family History resources to find out more about your relatives. Then please send in a short article, with a photo if possible, so that they can be remembered on these pages.
The free section of The Wartime Memories Project is run by volunteers.
This website is paid for out of our own pockets, library subscriptions and from donations made by visitors. The popularity of the site means that it is far exceeding available resources and we currently have a huge backlog of submissions.
If you are enjoying the site, please consider making a donation, however small to help with the costs of keeping the site running.
Hosted by:
The Wartime Memories Project Website
is archived for preservation by the British Library
Copyright MCMXCIX - MMXXIV
- All Rights Reserved -We do not permit the use of any content from this website for the training of LLMs or for use in Generative AI, it also may not be scraped for the purpose of creating other websites.
