It's 100 years ago and you live where you live right now...

Here on the Lincolnshire fens are the maternal family homes around Boston where life on the land continues with only my great uncle Jim remaining in France

The family story is that in August 1917 he was shot in the head just a week after arriving at his posting to the Somme
Only married a few weeks he volunteered, uniform too big, rifle bigger they said.
Of course the truth of his death was different, not shot but killed by shell burst as he crossed to another dugout to share tea with some new chums he had made.
His body will not be interred at DeVille Wood cemetery until 1929 but the family have been offered a government paid trip in 1921 to see the memorial at the cemetery. Perhaps someone will take a photo of it (as I will in 2010)

And as we sit round the table and listen to Fanny (Gladys to her friends and family) making plans to become a nurse when she is older, we have no idea of the terrifying episode that she will experience some 20 years later
 
Left there in the late 50's. Didn't get back until mid 90ish. It had changed a lot! Went up a lane, think it was parallel to Gourlay St above Millarbank St, where we used to climb on the dykes that ran the length of it. Other side was all the backs, divided at intervals and accessed via the closes, which had the communal middens and wash houses aka The Big Yins famous joke on Parkinson!

Being a tich there was one wash house that was too high for me to reach up to, so I could continue along the dyke. Looking on the lane side I noticed that although the wall was sheer, bits of cement had broken away between the brickwork. Off I went using my fingertips and sand shoes like a mini spiderman, without the costume, until I reached the other end. Kids nowadays wouldn't be allowed to do that, as some H&E bod would be telling them it was too dangerous. Poor sods, the kids that is.
 
Further information about the German Soldier with Shell Shock who was here. He was from the massive POW camp at Poundbury, where the present Prince of Wales has built a posh suburban blot on the landscape.

Hundreds of POWs lived there and worked on farms and in businesses locally. When they died the town gave them proper funerals and buried them in the cemetery at St. George's, Fordington, on the outskirts of town. There is a memorial to them there, but they were reburied elsewhere with more of their comrades in the 1960s.
Every 11th November there is a service at their memorial in the afternoon.
There were surprisingly few POWs held in the UK in the first half of the war but the numbers skyrocketed from 1917. Twelve of the poor buggers weren't repatriated until 1920.

Thus in December 1916 the figure stood at 876 officers and 24,251 men. Naval figures totalled 120 officers and 1,286 men, all but one of them German.[14] By 20 November 1917, 79,329 people were interned in British camps, including 29,511 civilians.[15] By November 1918 the British held a total of 207,357 prisoners of war throughout the world. The figure within Britain had reached 115,950, of whom 89,937 had been serving in the German Army (including 5,005 officers), together with 1,491 naval personnel.
There was a POW camp in Tipperary in 1914/15 but the POWs were moved to England because the authorities thought that the Volunteers were planning to break them out of the camp as part of the planned rebellion in 1916. At least two of them died while interned there. Their bodies were reinterred in Glencree, Co. Wicklow in the early 60s but one man's headstone still stands in Templemore C of I Churchyard. The other lad was buried in the town's Catholic cemetery but his headstone was recycled by someone else.
 
I've just read an item on the BBC site and it reminded me of this thread. A chap from Norwich has been buying up old postcards and sending them back to the address of their original recipient.
"These old postcards are just languishing in shops and have little monetary value, but they were meaningful when first sent and received, and I want to recreate that meaning," said Mr Curran, who calls his project Postcards from Time.

"People are interested in the history of their homes, the people who lived there; and maybe this will encourage them to think and talk about these things."

Some of the cards are greetings from holiday destinations, while others contain personal messages, including one from a soldier shortly after the end of World War One.
BBC report

Nice idea, and I hope he gets some positive responses.

Postcards From Time site
 
Which was in 1893. Wyoming achieved statehood in 1890.
Wyoming apparently allowed women vote earlier than 1890 and insisted that women be allowed continue vote after joining the Union. But that was only in state elections I take it. Wyoming women were presumably banned from voting in national elections until 1920. Native Americans were officially not allowed vote until 1924 and various ethnic minorities until later.
 
Wyoming apparently allowed women vote earlier than 1890 and insisted that women be allowed continue vote after joining the Union. But that was only in state elections I take it. Wyoming women were presumably banned from voting in national elections until 1920. Native Americans were officially not allowed vote until 1924 and various ethnic minorities until later.
No they were allowed to vote in National elections.
 
I have 2 photos,
1 of a nurse on completion of training mid 1920s, a pretty girl, smiling and happy, the other a1974 picture of a 5foot, dumpy, grey haired, dark clothed, glasses wearing old lady.
Finding out some of what happened in between makes me realise how true the saying "Never judge a book by the cover" is
From her obituary
Fanny Gladys Trott was born on the 18th February 1897 at Boston in Lincolnshire
She worked at Fisher Clarkes as a clerical assistant before joining the Church Army.
Around 1922 we know that she was in the Church Army and based at Merthyr Tydfil.
During the early war she ended up in France and in 1940, on the eve of Dunkerque she was told that she had to go to St Nazaire? LaRochelle?
There she boarded the Lancastria, along with hoards of servicemen. In the evening it was very stuffy below, so she went up on deck for some air.
She saw a German aeroplane flying overhead and watched it drop two bombs.
The first one missed the ship but the second went down the ship’s funnel. Chaos ensued!
Lifeboats were manned, but there were too few as the ship was seriously overcrowded.
Some people in the boats had lifebelts on but they took them off and passed them to those in the water.
People were jumping from the deck of the ship into the already very full lifeboats below — Auntie’s legs were later found to be very badly bruised from servicemen landing on her.
There were hundreds of troops on the lower decks who had absolutely no chance of survival and went down with the ship.
Survivors were eventually picked up by a French destroyer, but the vessel fouled a propeller in the wreckage and ‘limped’ to England on one propeller.
Many of these survivors rescued from the water were covered in oil and there were only two Church Army sisters to clean them up

What follows is from a history article (and not my work) and gives some insight into the horror of what happened

When the British troop ship 'Lancastria' was sunk in June 1940, some 5,000 people died - but news of the disaster was kept from the British public.

Introduction
In June 1922 the Tyrrenhia took her maiden voyage from Glasgow to Canada. She was an elegant vessel with two masts and a single funnel, and throughout the late 1920s and early 1930s was a ship of peaceful pleasure. No one liked her name - she quickly became known as the 'Soup Tureen' - and in early February 1924 she changed it to the Lancastria. What the fates made of the change, only time would tell - it is supposed to be very unlucky to change a God-given name, and sailors feel that the naming of a ship is as good as a christening.
She was an elegant vessel with two masts and a single funnel, and throughout the late 1920s and early 1930s was a ship of peaceful pleasure.
This is an account of what befell the ship that changed its name, seen partly through the eyes of two survivors of the bombing raid which would sink the Lancastria, taking an estimated 5,000 people to their deaths.

RMS Lancastria became HMT Lancastria when she was commandeered for war, and her sleek Cunard lines were lost under a coat of battleship grey. During the first few months of war she was busily engaged in cargo and transport duties in the North Atlantic, her massive cargo capacity proving ideal for the task. When the Norwegian campaign began, the Lancastria was set aside for troop-carrying but was kept back until needed to evacuate troops from Harstaad. She returned to Britain with her public rooms crammed with dejected weary soldiers. En route, she was spotted by a high-flying German aircraft and, although they attacked, the bombs missed and she sailed safely home. Was she a lucky ship after all? The troops disembarked at Glasgow and, after transporting men to Iceland, the Lancastria returned to her home port of Liverpool for a much needed refit.

Red Alert
The crew had already been paid off when the telegram came ordering the Lancastria to be ready to sail with Operation Aerial and, together with other vessels, she made for Plymouth where the vessel was given orders to sail for western France. She was guided into the sea lanes of the Loire estuary, and anchored some 10 miles off St Nazaire at about 06.00 hrs on Monday 17 June. It was a beautiful misty summer morning.
Those on the deck of the 'Lancastria' feared the worst...
Almost immediately, exhausted troops and some civilians began to arrive and were given little tickets, like bus tickets, with their cabin and deck number. Some were given spaces in the vast holds of the ship, where they laid down to rest and were asleep in just a few minutes. Throughout the morning troops arrived and seemed to fill every available space. Some had their first hot meal in weeks; some remained on deck watching still more people come aboard. There were units from the Army and RAF as well as civilians - men, women and young children.
At about 13.00 hrs the red alert sounded and a dive bomber was seen to attack the Oronsay which was some distance off. The bomber scored a direct hit on the bridge area, but it did not render the ship unseaworthy. Those on the deck of the Lancastria feared the worst: the enemy was sure to return. By this time the ship had taken some 6,000 people on board and more kept coming. At around 15.00 hrs Captain Sharp decided that enough was enough, but that to sail straight away would court disaster - he would rather wait for an escort.

The final moments
Hundreds were sucked under the water in the downdraught from the sinking vessel © At about 15.50 hrs the enemy returned. Bombs were seen to straddle the ship, one bomb exploding close to the port side, rupturing her almost full fuel tanks. The black oil oozed into the sea, creating a dark, deathly cloud.
They sang in defiance at the tops of their voices 'Roll out the Barrel' and 'There'll always be an England'.
Immediately, the ship began a perilous roll from port to starboard and back again, further bombs struck home, one penetrating the holds that were crammed with troops. Of the RAF personnel aboard - from 73 Squadron and 98 Squadron - very few survived. The ship rolled onto her port side, down by the bow. Those who could, took to the water to try and swim though the black cloud of oil that here and there showed licks of flame.
Non-swimmers took to the water with whatever seemed to be able to keep them afloat. Some lifeboats were lowered but, on many, the davits could not be released because of the angle of the ship. Those still on board what was now an upturned hull watched as the enemy returned to strafe both those struggling for life on the hull and those in the sea. They sang in defiance at the tops of their voices 'Roll out the Barrel' and 'There'll always be an England'. The ship's siren wailed and by 16.10 hrs, in just 20 minutes, the Lancastria slipped beneath the waves.

News blackout
As many as 9,000 people were aboard the ship. Less than 2,500 survived
Then there was the silence, a silence louder than the clamour of exploding bombs and guns. So ended the life of a beautiful ship and the lives of thousands of men, women and children. No one will ever know the exact number who died that day - some say there were as many as 9,000 on board by the time the Lancastria was bombed, others estimate 7,000. All we do know is that around 6,000 were on board by 13.00 hrs, and that many more arrived after that. Only 2,447 arrived home.
The rescue began with all kinds of vessels - from small fishing boats to destroyers of the Royal Navy - picking up survivors, more like oily flotsam than people. The bodies of those who died that day were washed up along the French coast during the coming months and were given Christian burials by the French people, who bravely ignored the German presence and cared for the victims as their own.
Churchill immediately hid the news from the public.
Churchill immediately hid the news from the public. In 1940, after Dunkirk, to reveal the truth would have been too damaging for civilian morale. He said, 'The newspapers have got quite enough disaster for today, at least.' Since that time the disaster has never been recognised for what it was - the greatest maritime disaster in Britain's history. More people were killed on the Lancastria than on the Titanic and Lusitania put together.
 
There were surprisingly few POWs held in the UK in the first half of the war but the numbers skyrocketed from 1917. Twelve of the poor buggers weren't repatriated until 1920.


There was a POW camp in Tipperary in 1914/15 but the POWs were moved to England because the authorities thought that the Volunteers were planning to break them out of the camp as part of the planned rebellion in 1916. At least two of them died while interned there. Their bodies were reinterred in Glencree, Co. Wicklow in the early 60s but one man's headstone still stands in Templemore C of I Churchyard. The other lad was buried in the town's Catholic cemetery but his headstone was recycled by someone else.
What is particularly shocking is the treatment of Ottoman Empire POWs who were held across the Empire until as late as 1923. Thousands died and thousands went blind due to poor diets and a lack of basic medical care. And yes, I know how poorly treated Allied POWs were treated, but that doesn’t justify the War Office behaviour.
 
What is particularly shocking is the treatment of Ottoman Empire POWs who were held across the Empire until as late as 1923. Thousands died and thousands went blind due to poor diets and a lack of basic medical care. And yes, I know how poorly treated Allied POWs were treated, but that doesn’t justify the War Office behaviour.
Not necessarily right, but perhaps someone in the WO had a relative in this

Siege of Kut - Wikipedia
 
I once lived in part of an old Rectory. We had a covenant that we couldn't impersonate Vicars or Ministers.

The Vicars and Tarts Party had to be cancelled...
My dad's house has one that they cannot aggressively repair cars on the property.
 
The things you can't do in your covenants are an interesting statement on the social snobbery of the age. Victorian houses it's usually tanneries and other things that smell, the addition of caravans is a very 1970/80's phenomenon.
 
The things you can't do in your covenants are an interesting statement on the social snobbery of the age. Victorian houses it's usually tanneries and other things that smell, the addition of caravans is a very 1970/80's phenomenon.
Except that in my case the house dates from the 1930s, in the 70/80s the first owner was still living in it.
I wonder what they thought people would get up to in a shed that would disturb the neighbours. Ferrets, it'll be ferrets!
 
My father was born in 1898 and was in France by January 1915. I was not born until he was 48, and I was lucky to have him until his death at 80. We mostly think our fathers special but he certainly was! He was a Royal Welch Fusilier and was very proud of their fine fighting history. I spent thousands of hours in discussion with him and traveled the battle fields, where quite out of character he would often remain silent. I sent for his documents after his death and some MOD official had written on them 'Never have we dispatched docs for a more wounded soldier.' it depicted his five wounds from GSW to shrapnel etc but he never complained. I recall one particular conversation with him. it was during 1972? He said "I heard the shellfire every night in bed right up until about 1933, but if I shut my eyes at night even now, then I can still hear the boys singing even today!"
 
The things you can't do in your covenants are an interesting statement on the social snobbery of the age. Victorian houses it's usually tanneries and other things that smell, the addition of caravans is a very 1970/80's phenomenon.
Not necessarily. It's less snobbery than practicality. I lived in a house where I couldn't keep livestock or run a business. Imho that was because of potential noise and smell on a 1970s housing estate. Caravans were not allowed either. Imho because a caravan on a drive causes cars to be parked in the road, making a danger to pedestrians, children and other road users.

The Vicars thing at the Old Rectory would be to stop us giving marriage advice, taking funds for funerals, or other misleading of the idiots who turned up saying 'Is this the Vicarage?' despite the GBFO sign saying 'numbers 1-3 The Old Rectory '.
 
Fantastic thread this

In 1919 I’m living in a stone two up two down cottage fitted with all the mod cons a rural family of that era could expect.

House is fitted with 1x wood burning cooker, 1x fire place and a well

I have 2.5 Acers, some fruit trees and a small number of livestock.

Most of people on my lane live in similiar conditions to me, although I was lucky enough to be able buy the cottage unlike many of the other agricultural labourers after saving some money from my time in the Army and reciving some money for losing a leg at Ypre.

Life has returned to “normal” here in rural Herefordshire but without doubt the many cultural, economic and social change that the war created will catch on out here one day.
 

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