The Big T’s great uncle, Eric Gray, was wounded at Messines on 7 June, 1917, and would have been sent to a dressing station like this one — indeed, perhaps this one.
He wrote to his sister Doris:
.. for an hour or two it fairly rained shells but it wasn’t until about half past three or four o’clock when I got my smack. A small shell burst in the trench near me and the flame of the explosion burnt my neck and a piece went in the back of my right shoulder …
Hi Su, can you tell me about Big T, I am new here!
Hi Julie; thanks for visiting. The “big T” is the name I use for my partner when I write about him in my blogs. It’s a nickname he’s had since university and, because I write quite a lot about my immediate family, I’ve taken to using aliases for them. My son is usually referred to as “the boy-child”, or occasionally “the kid.” Cheers, Su.
Hard to click on Like for something like this because there is nothing to like about what happened to Eric Gray or the others. But I like that you are sending out the message about the horrors of war.
Thanks Amy. I often find myself wishing there was an alternative to “like” – but I guess it’s to comment, so thanks again. 🙂
To still have those letters is an amazing treasure … to see personal experiences from such a important and historic time is priceless!
Thanks Joanne; I agree, we are very fortunate to have this. Cheers, Su.
Excruciating pain, exposure, and no privacy at all. What a horrifying combo.
Yes; and those were the lucky ones. I’ve read accounts by stretcher-bearers of those trapped in no-man’s land with terrible wounds. It’s almost incomprehensible that so many young men (and the women who nursed and drove them) were forced to endure such pain and misery.
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