The Brant family and the Great War
My father was born in 1892 and joined the police force in 1914.
He joined the Royal Artillery in 1917. He rarely spoke about his experiences
in the Army unless they were amusing events.
When I was small we visited his family and my mothers family quite often. He
and I would pass a house where the occupant was usually in his garden. One or
other of them would call, 'Hello.
How about a hash-up?' I asked my Dad why they always greeted each other in
this manner. He said he was marching along a road in France, feeling
homesick, and could see a soldier sitting at the edge of the road tending
small fire.
When my Dad reached the soldier he could see it was a friend from back home -
the man who called out to him. My Dad could see his friend had a frying pan
over the fire which contained potato and bully-beef. His friend called,
'Hello Ted. How about a hash-up?'
My Dad carried his loose change in a purse and, when he opened it I always
noticed a horse-shoe made of brass amongst the money.
I asked him where he'd got it, and he smiled broadly. He said that when he
was in France the Troop had a small wooden hut near the site in which was a
latrine.
My Dad was using the facility when a shell exploded near by. It shattered his
privacy, and the hut, and he was hit on his backside by a piece of hot
shrapnel which gave him a small wound. When the shrapnel had cooled, he
picked it up and later took it a jeweler in the local town who made the
horse-shoe for him. My father's brother Frank also served in the War but I
knew nothing of his experiences.My Mother had three brothers who served in
the Army. Frank had five wounds in his face, but he never spoke about what
happened. Bert was quite badly gassed causing him the be a bit wheezy. I
don't recall that either of them complained or felt hard done by, they were
simply pleased to have come through it all.It seems that people rarely
travelled very far from where they were born before the War. All these men
lived in Wotton under Edge and I think about the furthest they went was
Bristol. I feel sure this was the case with Arthur, my Mother's youngest
brother.He joined the Army and, after training, was sent to France. On his
first venture to the front line, he was captured by the Germans and put to
work in a salt mine. I believe he must have been badly treated. On his return
home he couldn't keep a job and spent his time wandering in the hills around
his home. Post traumatic stress I guess it would be called today. Only his
mother seemed to care for him. He lived at home with her and rarely spoke. As
a small child, he would put me on his lap and hold me close for a long time.
I liked him, but felt very sad for him. He must have received some money, but
it was very little. His brothers and my Dad were always very gentle towards
him and would give him half a crown when they were with him. These men, and
their like, were my role models and I am ever grateful to them. They had no
time for posturing and posing. What you saw was what you got. They were
utterly loyal, compassionate and caring. They had seen horrible sights and
weren't impressed with possessions or status and were the men to be with in a
sticky situation. One once said to me,'We don't bring anything with us into
the world and we don't take anything out. Whatever we have makes us simply
custodians'.
My school teachers were of the same mould. One had been gassed and another
wounded. One used crutches because he had only one leg. His lower jaw had
scars about it. He didn't tell us what had happened to him, but another
teacher said that he had been in the Royal Flying Corps. His plane was shot
down and, when it crashed, the joystick pierced his jaw shattering the bones.
His leg was smashed, but a clever surgeon used a bone from his leg or foot
and fashioned a new jaw and covered it with skin from his leg.About the only
thing which made my Dad angry was the sight of ex-soldiers carrying a tray of
thing they tried to sell, usually matches. He would say, 'What happened to
the world fit for heros?' My Dad went back into the police and served through
WW11 reaching the rank of Chief Inspector. Many of the other policemen were
veterans of WW1 all of whom were men I admired greatly.
Title |
The Brant family and the Great War
|
---|---|
Author |
Brant, Allan
|
Item date |
1914 - 1918
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Item source | |
Item medium | |
Content | |
Cataloguer |
Richard Marshall
|
Filename |
GWA_3986_My_family_and_WW1.txt
|
Copyright |
The Great War Archive, University of Oxford / Primary Contributor
|
Digital repository | |
Contributor name |
Alan Brant
|
Contributed on the behalf of |
Edward John Brant and family
|
Collection
Citation
“The Brant family and the Great War,” by Brant, Allan. The Great War Archive, University of Oxford / Primary Contributor via First World War Poetry Digital Archive, accessed April 19, 2024, http://ww1lit.nsms.ox.ac.uk/ww1lit/gwa/item/5703.
Permitted Use
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