Across the generations

“Grandfather, what was it actually like to be an ordinary soldier in the First World War?”

It was the question that I had always wanted to ask him. Finally I had the opportunity. I’d seen some photos and letters from that time and they had increased my desire to find out more. But I wasn’t sure if I would ever meet him. I had never had the opportunity to spend any time with him before today. But now I had the chance to ask the question, the question that had always fascinated me.

“I don’t like to talk about it, lad,” he replied. “I was really lucky to survive. Lots of friends didn’t make it. But God carried me through and kept me safe.”

“Mmm, in our day we had a sitcom about the First World War called Blackadder 4 and at the end of the last episode all the characters died - it was very sad.”

“Sitcom? What on earth is a sitcom?”

“On the TV. A comedy programme. Didn’t you have people like Arthur Askey in your day?”

“Didn’t like him. He was on the wireless but that was in the Second World War. We didn’t get a television box till the coronation. Your grandmother insisted on that. She always loved the Royal Family.”

“And Queen Elizabeth only died a couple of years ago.”

“Really? She had a good innings.” He chuckled. “Do they still play cricket?”

“Oh yes. Not just test matches and county cricket but one-day games and 20-over games. We’ve just lost a test series to India. Were you a cricket fan?”

“Used to play a bit. We had a church team. I kept wicket. Don’t play anymore. Too many good players around.”

I couldn’t really understand what was happening. It was great to have this opportunity to speak to him. But he obviously didn’t want to talk about the First World War. I suppose the memories were too painful. It was our first meeting and I didn’t want to upset him.

“Grandmother and I used to watch TV together,” I remembered. “When I was young. It was all in black and white in those days. We used to watch all the children’s programmes like Andy Pandy, The Flower Pot Men and The Woodentops.”

“She would have enjoyed that. What were The Flower Pot Men?”

“They were…..it is difficult to explain. Where is grandmother? Is she here?”

“She’s at work. She’s gone back to being a teacher. She always loved teaching the little ones. She’ll be back later to make my tea.”

“Do you work, grandfather?”

“Not now. I’m retired. I help with the church services. That keeps me busy. Putting out chairs. Making people feel welcome. Reading some of the prayers.”

“Taking round the collection plate?”

“We don’t need to do that, lad.”

“We used to do jigsaws together. They were only simple ones. Children’s jigsaws based on TV programmes. Camberwick Green, Trumpton, Chigley. We did those together. Back then grandmother was a bit forgetful. She would get confused sometimes. She must have been nearly 80. What’s her memory like now?”

“Very sharp. Never forgets a thing. Better than me. Always remembers the words to the hymns. She can probably remember doing all those jigsaws with you and what do you call it, The Flower Pot Women?”

“So her memory has actually got better. And presumably she doesn’t have any difficulty walking. I remember she often had bad falls.”

“She’s as fit as a fiddle!”

The conversation was going well. We were getting on like a house on fire. I thought it was time to try mentioning the First World War again to see if he would open up a bit more. I thought it would be a cathartic process for him.

“Grandad, I was looking through some old photos of you the other day. There was actually one from the First World War. I was so proud of it that I put it on Facebook.”

“Facebook?”

“On the internet. Er, on a computer. Bit like a big photo album but…it is difficult to explain.”

“Whatever next!”

“It was you in your uniform with two of your colleagues.”

“Oh yes. I remember that one. That was 1916, I’m pretty sure. Wasn’t sure if I would make it through to the end. Wasn’t sure when it would end. But God always kept me safe. I said my prayers every night. Anyway, I don’t like to talk about it. I’ve been here nearly 70 years now and I like to keep busy. Don’t want to spend all my time dwelling on the past.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing grandmother again - it must be over 50 years since I saw her. I don’t suppose she will recognise me.”

“I don’t think she will. You must have changed quite a bit in 50 years.”

“Obviously. But how did you recognise me?”

“I don’t know. I suppose that I always wanted to have a grandson. And you look just like I always imagined him.”

“Grandfather, it is lucky that you survived the First World War otherwise I wouldn’t exist, would I? I’m thankful to God for that. Very thankful.”

“But you don’t exist. Not now. I’m sorry to break it to you, lad. I thought you had worked it out by now. You’ve died.”

“Where am I?”

“My Father’s house has many rooms.”

I was confused.

“And there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.”

“I understand. I’ve often imagined what it would be like. But now that I am actually here it is a bit overwhelming. It has all happened so quickly. I just don’t know how I’ve actually ended up here. Oh, hang on…I was crossing the road. I remember checking something on my phone. There was a loud noise. And then suddenly I found myself here. I don’t know what happened.”

“Come on, lad. You can help me put out the chairs. The service starts in ten minutes.”