If the hon. Gentleman will excuse me, he will understand if I do not give way on this occasion, because other people are waiting to speak.
It was not all to do with the stories on the front; it was also about what was happening back home. It is interesting that the local papers such as the Glamorgan Gazette would occasionally print letters from front-line troops. On 11 February 1916, the Glamorgan Gazette published a Blaengarw soldier’s lament in which he says:
“Sir,
May I, through the columns of your newspaper put forward a complaint? I am a native of Blaengarw, at present on active service in France, doing a little bit for the old country.”
He went on to complain about the use of the Prince of Wales fund and the committee that was stopping his wife’s allowance so that she could not now pay the rent. He concludes:
“Maybe if a few of the committee-men were out here doing their bit, and their wives and families were pinched a bit at home, they would take a different view of things.”
Signed Tommy Atkins.”
We have no way of tracing the writer or his family. We cannot know whether they survived the war or, indeed, the peace that came afterwards.
Then there are the Garw officers who wrote back home. Thanks to the local Garw history society, we have this undated letter, which says:
“Christmas Eve, and we are in the trenches again. We came in last night, and we will be here for some time. It is fearfully wet here. Last night I got simply soaked through from head to foot; it was awful, and the rats were mighty. I am about 100 yds behind the front trenches, and the noise is fearful. Our battalion may be out on Monday, then 4 days rest billets, about 5 miles behind the lines, then in again for 8 days, I think. I nearly got hit as we went out of the trenches on Wednesday night. I was with the Commanding Officer and another, a Colonel. Going out we had to duck and jump into a dug-out, as there was a sniper on. We lost a Captain on our first day, killed by shrapnel. I hope you have a happy Christmas. I wish I was with you, but this is my place, and I hope we shall be alright.”
Private Francis George Ricketts wrote back to his parents, saying in the middle of his letter:
“During our eight days of rest we were billeted in barns, and slept on straw, but although it was wanting in home comforts, we were glad to be in such, and we were happy and contented. It was in these billets that we spent our Christmas ‘holidays’. Although we were within the sound of the guns, we all went to church services on Christmas morning, and all of us joined in singing the old well known carol ‘Peace on Earth.’ And how beautiful were the strains of ‘Aberystwyth’ and ‘Mae hen wlad fy nhadau,’ as over a thousand Welsh throats sang them in our own native tongue. Although we were far away from the ‘Land of Song’ our hearts were there amongst our old folks at home.”
Then there is the story of Francis Banks and his brother Jack, who both joined up. Jack ended up being captured very early on and spent most of the time as a prisoner of war, but Francey fought in France and Belgium with the Royal Irish Regiment. He was Irish but lived in Maesteg in the Llynfi valley. He was company runner and, in the words of his captain, H. J. O’Reilly,
“consequently my right hand man, whether in action or out of it”.
On 16 August 1917, Francey was bringing a message back to camp and to his captain. When he was just 12 yards away, he was shot by a German sniper. He struggled on and died in the arms of his captain, who says in a letter he sent home:
“A more gallant or finer soldier never drew breath but there is this great consolation back to you and me, that no soldier could have wished to die a better or a more glorious death.”
I thank again all those families and historical societies that have pulled together this material in order to show today’s children exactly what this means and how poignant it is. Private Morgan Llewellyn of the Royal Army Medical Corps, who had been reported missing believed killed in Serbia in 1915, wrote home from Salonika in December 1916:
“When I was in Serbia last winter, I met many Garw, Ogmore and Maesteg boys, and I won’t forget that retreat in a hurry”.
He went on:
“There are a good few Maesteg boys in this Division and also a few from Tondu. A batch of Maesteg and Garw boys have just arrived, and the first word I got the other day from a Pontycymmer lad was ‘Hello, good old Mog; You’re still alive! They mourned you as dead once in Pontycymmer.’ When I get hold of a Gazette out here, it always means a few hours of interesting reading for me. It is sent out to me here regularly by a friend in Pontycymmer. I was more than pleased to read the news of Pte W.J. Ridgeway, R.A.M.C., winning the M.M. in France. I was greatly interested too in his letter in the Gazette, and I hope he and I and all the Garw lads will be spared to land once again in dear old Blighty.”
The stories reach out to us down the years and remind us of the human faces of war and how we should strive at all costs to avoid it wherever possible. They are also a poignant lesson not only for politicians, but for today’s children and our communities, which gave and lost so much in the great war—the war that was supposed to end all wars.
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