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Dunhill/fr: Difference between revisions
Created page with "<blockquote>"Alfred Henry, qui venait d’avoir dix huit ans lorsque la Guerre fut déclarée, revint à la maison un beau jour de l’été de 1914 dans un uniforme de soldat..."
(Created page with "===Alfred Henry Dunhill=== thumb|right|120px| Alfred H. Dunhill File:Gazette at 10.58.14.png|thumb|right|120px| London Gazette - 19...") |
(Created page with "<blockquote>"Alfred Henry, qui venait d’avoir dix huit ans lorsque la Guerre fut déclarée, revint à la maison un beau jour de l’été de 1914 dans un uniforme de soldat...") |
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<blockquote>"Alfred Henry, | <blockquote>"Alfred Henry, qui venait d’avoir dix huit ans lorsque la Guerre fut déclarée, revint à la maison un beau jour de l’été de 1914 dans un uniforme de soldat du Régiment de la Reine. Je me souviens que sa tunique était beaucoup trop petite pour son grand corps et aussi qu’ avant qu’il ne m’embrasse pour me dire au-revoir, qu’il me montra comment il enroulait ses bandes molletières. Nous ne le revîmes plus jusqu’à son retour en permission après plusieurs semaines dans les tranchées du Front sans qu’il ait même jamais eu la possibilité de retirer ses chaussures. Je pleurai lorqu’il nous montra les poux qui gigotaient dans les coutures de sa tunique aux manches courtes. Mère, je m’en souviens, le fit déshabiller dans le jardin, emporta l’uniforme dans la cuisine et le mit dans le four chaud.<br> | ||
The telegram from the War Office Mother had been dreading for four years arrived on Armistice Day. Alfred Henry had been wounded and was being brought back to Bethnal Green where a workhouse had been converted into an emergency hospital. Mother and I dashed off in silent terror, but we found him in reasonable spirits, surrounded by soldiers in their hospital blue, pale and tired and obviously glad to be home. He had nothing worse than a burst of shrapnel in one of his legs, though they failed to get all of it out and the wound was to trouble him for the rest of his life. Then, as soon as he was fit enough to limp about on a stick, Father, with his customary thoroughness, organized a festive dance to welcome my brother home. | The telegram from the War Office Mother had been dreading for four years arrived on Armistice Day. Alfred Henry had been wounded and was being brought back to Bethnal Green where a workhouse had been converted into an emergency hospital. Mother and I dashed off in silent terror, but we found him in reasonable spirits, surrounded by soldiers in their hospital blue, pale and tired and obviously glad to be home. He had nothing worse than a burst of shrapnel in one of his legs, though they failed to get all of it out and the wound was to trouble him for the rest of his life. Then, as soon as he was fit enough to limp about on a stick, Father, with his customary thoroughness, organized a festive dance to welcome my brother home. | ||