My grandfather's brother

[Phil]

He's a Seaforth -- look at the sporran badge:



It's a very nice picture, one to be treasured. If you know his name, it might be fun to do some research and get service records, etc.

Regards,

Todd

So it will be a MacKenzie Seaforth tartan then. Impossible to tell in black & white. I kope he made it, so many Scots, Welsh & Irish boys didn't not to mention Canadians, Australians & New Zealanders, Indians & Africans too, just cannon fodder all of them. Ever heard that poem "Age shall not wither them nor the years etc...." look it up, it only refers to to Englishmen as if no-one else mattered in that conflict. My wife's grandfather was in the KOSB in the trenches. He didn't talk about it much but said the kilts were terrible. They got soaking wet and never dried out, worst thing they could have worn he said. He was there and I believed him.
For the Fallen by Laurence Binyon

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.