War Graves
In the Ely Standard of 14th March 1915 readers would have found out a little about the problems already being experienced by the authorities in keeping track of their relatives' graves when they read the article below headed: Identifying Soldiers’ graves – Mr Ian Malcolm M.P. describes his experiences. As the tide of war washed backwards and forwards over the same territory many graves were "lost", despite reassurances families had that the grave was marked and tended. Not every man's body was recovered or, if recovered, identifiable, and some victims of shelling or drowning in deep mud may literally have just disappeared. It is highly probable that many of the local men named on a memorial to the missing may in fact lie in a grave marked "An Unknown Soldier of the ***** Regiment".
"Mr Ian Malcom M.P. who is now Director of the Red Cross Missing Dept., is visiting the French battlefields to identify and preserve the graves of British soldiers on the Aisne and the Marne: has sent home an account of his experience as follows:-
We moved along the line of the Aisne in the rear of the Army, searching hamlets and villages for traces of our dead. We were told that, if we did not mind going within the range of shell-fire, we could see the graves. Leaving our car on the outskirts of a village, which was being heavily shelled, we hunted, not without success, for graves marked and unmarked, friendless and alone. Thence we proceeded to some higher ground that looks across the valley from whose opposing heights the guns of friend and foe blazed incessantly at one another. We were only about a quarter of a mile or so from the Allies trenches. It was “skeery” work under new and very perturbing conditions – with a ruined house (or, more accurately, a smoking wreck) on one side of us and a field so pitted with vast holes from the enemy shells that it looked like a giant sieve, on the other. Next morning was Sunday, and I went to the beautiful cathedral. Nave and transepts were crammed with soldiers – unkempt and war-stained, weary and accoutred – either coming from or going to the trenches nearby. The officiating priest was a soldier; beneath his vestments as he knelt at the altar you could see the scarlet breeches and high boots of a cavalryman. The preacher was another comrade in arms, who delivered his simple sermon in the ordinary blue tunic of a French private. Next week I expect to be in another region of the battlefield, preserving pencilled inscriptions, replacing rough, temporary, crosses by more durable ones, and generally doing as much as possible to protect against the ravages of wind and weather those monuments to our brave ones fallen upon the field of glory. I have seen many illustrations of the affection and respect in which our arms are held in France. It may be some comfort to those who lost their dearest on the Aisne and the Marne to know that their sacrifices, though desperate, are cherished in the hearts of a chivalrous and grateful people."
"Mr Ian Malcom M.P. who is now Director of the Red Cross Missing Dept., is visiting the French battlefields to identify and preserve the graves of British soldiers on the Aisne and the Marne: has sent home an account of his experience as follows:-
We moved along the line of the Aisne in the rear of the Army, searching hamlets and villages for traces of our dead. We were told that, if we did not mind going within the range of shell-fire, we could see the graves. Leaving our car on the outskirts of a village, which was being heavily shelled, we hunted, not without success, for graves marked and unmarked, friendless and alone. Thence we proceeded to some higher ground that looks across the valley from whose opposing heights the guns of friend and foe blazed incessantly at one another. We were only about a quarter of a mile or so from the Allies trenches. It was “skeery” work under new and very perturbing conditions – with a ruined house (or, more accurately, a smoking wreck) on one side of us and a field so pitted with vast holes from the enemy shells that it looked like a giant sieve, on the other. Next morning was Sunday, and I went to the beautiful cathedral. Nave and transepts were crammed with soldiers – unkempt and war-stained, weary and accoutred – either coming from or going to the trenches nearby. The officiating priest was a soldier; beneath his vestments as he knelt at the altar you could see the scarlet breeches and high boots of a cavalryman. The preacher was another comrade in arms, who delivered his simple sermon in the ordinary blue tunic of a French private. Next week I expect to be in another region of the battlefield, preserving pencilled inscriptions, replacing rough, temporary, crosses by more durable ones, and generally doing as much as possible to protect against the ravages of wind and weather those monuments to our brave ones fallen upon the field of glory. I have seen many illustrations of the affection and respect in which our arms are held in France. It may be some comfort to those who lost their dearest on the Aisne and the Marne to know that their sacrifices, though desperate, are cherished in the hearts of a chivalrous and grateful people."
