Those World War I Graves: More Family

One of the goals of our trip to England was to make a little one-day side trip to France to visit the graves of two great-uncles from our English family. James Wilson and Sidney Wilson were brothers, two years apart in age, James being the oldest and the first to enlist in the British Army. He was also the first to be sent to France as part of the British Expeditionary Force, in September 1914. He was a telephonist, meaning he ran communication lines from the officers in the back of the action to the front lines. Needless to say, telephonists did not survive long in battle. James was killed in May of 1915 during the bloody battle of Festubert, and is buried in the Richebourg  in the Le Touret Military Cemetery.

Sidney Wilson, the younger brother, was an infantryman and served not far away from his brother. I often wonder if the two men knew they were so close in the battlefields. Sidney's luck held a bit longer; he died in August of 1917, on a day when there was no battle being waged. A random shell was fired into the trenches and he and a companion were hit. The two brothers, just two years apart in age, both died at the age of 26. Sidney is buried at the Roclincourt Military Cemetery, not too far from James.

No one in our family had ever visited these graves, and we thought it was time. Planning this little adventure was interesting, and credit for the bulk of it has to go to my sister Judy, who located the cemeteries and the graves on maps, and planned an itinerary for the day. Theresa also gets credit for figuring out transportation once we were in France. She downloaded the Uber app! We investigated trains, buses, taxis, and even driving ourselves, but in the end agreed to use Uber as the most reliable and least expensive option. That decision turned out to be a Godsend.

To make this part of our trip easiest, we opted to stay at a hotel near St. Pancras International Rail Station in London. Theresa found the hotel and figured out how to get there via the tube, London's subway. We flew in to Heathrow Airport, found the tube, and discovered that we were right in the middle of the morning rush hour. Talk about packed! It was an interesting ride, shall we say, and after getting off at our station, King's Cross, we still had quite a hike up and down l-o-n-g escalators and such to get to St. Pancras, and then to find our hotel. We left our bags (too early to check in as it was just 9 in the morning) and found a good place for breakfast using the best method--asking some men on the street. The rest of that day we spent touring London--more on that in another post. It was a very long day, and we were in bed early as we needed to be up by 4:30 to catch the train to France.

So up and at 'em the next morning, at the station early for the 6:30am train that would take the chunnel under the English Channel and deposit us in Lille, France. None of us had ever been to France before so we enjoyed the views of farmland and towns along the way. At Lille, we left the station and crossed the street to call Uber, as we needed an easily identifiable address for pickup.

Our driver arrived in a nice car, but there was one hitch--he spoke little to no English, and we spoke little to no French. But Theresa had put in our destination so all was well, we thought.

We arrived in Richebourg with no trouble. It is a beautiful spot for a cemetery, very rural and quiet. Our driver seemed puzzled. Did we want to be left here? Theresa managed to communicate that we would call another Uber. I had misgivings. We were far out in the country--would another driver be available? Would the app even work? I asked the driver if he might be able to stay. He seemed to be willing. Theresa, using Google, managed to translate that we also needed to go to Roclincourt, and then back to Lille. But some convoluted communication, she and the driver came to an agreement: he would stay with us as an independent transaction. She told him we had no Euros, and showed him her credit card--he showed her his Square! So all was well. Salon, his name sounded like, would wait for us and take us to Roclincourt and back to the train station. Whew! Without him, we'd have been stranded. What a guy.

I was surprised to find myself fighting back tears as I entered the cemetery. It seemed silly to cry for great-uncles I'd never met, and yet there it was. I suppose it was that I'd been thinking of them so much over the past year, especially when I realized that they were probably present for the Christmas Truce of 1914, a story I'd been telling at the holidays with no idea that family members might have actually been a part of that unusual truce. Cousin Julie's posts about these brothers, too, made them very real and immediate to me. Later I asked my sisters and found that they had experienced the same thing, but none of us wanted to cry and seem silly in front of the others.

The care of the cemetery really touched us.

It is beautifully kept, mowed and carefully trimmed, and there are flowers on all of the graves. The two world wars are still actively remembered in France and England--probably in all of Europe. So many men died, so many people suffered and also died. The Great Cross in the cemetery is engraved "Their Name Liveth Forevermore." That again brought me near tears.

From an earlier blog post:

My great-uncle James Barnes Wilson, my mother-s uncle--at Neuve Chappelle, France, after the battle there. All that remains of the church is a few stones, one timber and the crucifix. James is standing by a roll of telephone wire--that was his job, stringing the line from the rear to the front for communication between the planners and the battle line. He died at the battle of Festubert on May 22, 1915, a battle in which over 16,000 British troops lost their lives.

I can't describe how it felt to finally see James' grave, It was like a circle completed. We left stones on his tombstone and wandered a bit through the beautiful memorial to men who had died but had no gravestone, probably buried in mass graves.

It was peaceful, but overwhelmingly sad. What had the world lost with these men, and with all those who died in this bloody war?

Back in the car, we made our way to Roclincourt, some distance away.

The GPS took us to the town cemetery, then to the middle of a cornfield! Sidney, I thought, was always a trickster in my mind, and seemed to be having fun with us. When we put "military cemetery" into the GPS it finally took us to the right place.

Again, a lovely, well-kept cemetery, with neat rows and flowers on each grave. It took a bit to find Sidney's stone, and his flowers looked pretty bad, but still the care was evident. We left our stones and spent a little time here as well.

Sidney Charles Wilson. 

My cousin Julie in England has done extensive research on both James and Sidney. This is from her post about Sidney:

"On my previous post Sue mentioned the Christmas truce which took place at Neuve Chapelle in 1914 which may have been witnessed by our Great Uncle James, well I thought I’d check the diary to see what the Bedfordshire’s were doing that Christmas, and it looks like they had their own truce going on; the diary extract reads:-
“25 Dec 1914 Cold & frosty day. Quiet day. Germans semaphored over that they were not going to fire. Hard frost all day.”
An additional note added later reads “ a private diary by a battalion member records fraternisation between men of B Company and the Germans in No Man's Land”
From reading a bit about the truce it seems there were a number of sectors of the front line around Neuve Chapelle that had some form of truce that Christmas, so if Sidney was with his battalion (who were in the trenches on Christmas Day 1914 near Wolverghem) it seems very likely that he witnessed the ‘fraternisation between men’ and from what I’ve heard about him, I feel sure he would have one of those men in no man’s land meeting the Germans!
One thing we do know for sure is that he won the Military Medal ‘for bravery’, which is noted in the London Gazette on 11 Nov 1916. Unfortunately, exactly what he did to earn this is not recorded, however the owner of the Bedfordshire Reg. website told me that the timing of the announcement in the London Gazette suggests it was probably for action on the Somme. He was also mentioned in dispatches in the London Gazette of 2 Jan 1917, which again probably relates to an event four months earlier (ie Sept 1916).
The only other thing we know about Sidney was that when he died he was attached to a Trench Mortar Battery; a bit of detective work and I’ve managed to establish it was the 15th Trench Mortar Battery. Trench Mortar Batteries were set up in April 1916, and drew men from the battalions that made up a brigade. The 1st Bedfordshire were in 15th Brigade with the 1st Norfolk Reg. and 1st Cheshire Reg. among others. (I won’t go into the entire army organisation, but if you’re keen it can all be found online!). The Bedfordshire expert I was talking to said it was likely that he joined the TM Battery after a he rejoined the battalion, perhaps following an injury. He suggested that perhaps Sidney was injured at the Somme (where we think he earnt his Military Medal) and on returning to the front was posted to the TMB. This is of course a bit of guess work! From his brother James’ death report we know Sidney was injured and had returned to the front before May 1915, but his move to the TMB couldn’t have been then as they hadn’t been established at that point. (haha I go round in circles trying to work things out!!).
What I have learnt about soldiers in theTMB’s is that they were a brave lot! Setting up their mortar positions close to the front line the mortars were in effect ’lobbed’ into the opposing trenches. Of course, they in turn became targets for enemy fire! I hope to find a war diary for the 15th TMB at our National Archives, which should give me a better idea of his movements.
Sidney died on 2 July 1917, after having survived almost 3 years in the trenches. The newspaper report of his death gives us these details:-
“The following is the letter from his Captain – “It is my sad duty to have to break the news of your son’s death to you. While in trenches this morning he was sitting with one of his comrades under a shelter, when a shell landed on the roof, instantly killing both of them. I was more grieved than I can tell you, as he was one of my best and stoutest NCO’s. He was most popular in the Battery, and his confident cheeriness at all times was an example to all. Only on Sunday last he was invested with his Military Medal by the Corps Commander, and well he earned it. His remains have been carried down, and the Padre is to conduct his funeral tomorrow. I hope it will be some small comfort to you in this sad time to know that he suffered no pain and died at duty.”

A brave, popular man. I wish I might have known him. At least I now know who he was, what he did, and where he lies. There is comfort in all of those things.

Roclincourt Military Cemetery

As we got back in the car, I asked the driver, "Tu mange'?" Some of the little French I recall from high school! But he understood. "Oui, oui!" He was ready for lunch! He took us to Arras, where we found a good restaurant. He ate with us--our treat--and we shared photos of our families and homes. He was originally from Algeria, he said, and showed us pictures of his homeland. Even with limited mutual language, we managed to communicate and had a delightful conversation.

Where we ate lunch, in Arras, France.

Arras was a beautiful town, but we only saw a tiny bit of it. Later I saw images of the damage inflicted during the wars. Devastating, how man can destroy so much that took so long to build.

Finally we went back to the train station at Lille. We were surprised and pleased at the final cost of our driver, about half of what we expected, so we all tipped him well and said goodbye. What a nice man he was. We still had a few hours before the train back to London. Judy and Theresa explored a bit of Lille, but my knee was giving me a lot of trouble so I stayed at the station and watched people. Very entertaining, although I would have liked to see the city.

Baguettes! Can't go to France and not get baguettes!

We got back to London by 8:30pm, found a good dinner in a tiny Italian restaurant, and slept like logs that night even though the neighborhood was right noisy. I woke around 2 am, and looked out on this scene. Captivating.

A long, good day. A goal met, international relations conducted, good food eaten: totally satisfying in every way.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.