90 Years

The 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month in 1918 was the time of the Armistice, the end of the war to end all wars. As ever, there are telly and radio programmes about war to coincide with the day and this year there seem to be more than usual because it's the 90th anniversary. Programmes about personal stories of the war, tales of regiments and tales of death.

One thing that keeps being mentioned is that survivors tended not to talk about their experiences when they returned home. This was certainly the case with my Granda who never spoke about the war until the years before his death - he told me more about the war (which wasn't much) than he ever told his own children, including my mother. The horror of it all was too much, the horror of what happened to those young men in the trenches and the horror - probably - of what they did. My Granda lost his left arm from the elbow and nearly lost his life. He used to strap a false arm to the raw bone at the elbow with a strap over his shoulder to keep it in place. He was always conscious of it and tried to disguise it, angling his body away from the camera in photos.

When I was looking through the papers at my Dad's house over the summer I found a photo of a handsome young soldier proudly looking into the camera lens and into the future. After a moment I realised it was my Granda and the amazing thing was that he had two arms. Maybe it was his joining up photo? I'd never seen it before and, obviously, had never seen him with both arms intact.

It's strange to think that today there are only three men alive who were in the war. They're pretty old, of course, and it's hardly surprising that only three men are still alive. But what is history to many, and taught as history in schools, is part of my life as well, through my Granda, the old codger who kept cans of beer under his bed in case he got thirsty during the night (he was sensible, my Granda) and who just had to look at a slot machine to win the price of a round. He was also an award winning gardener. He was many things, my Granda.