War Memorials – Returning to my theme for 2014

1st World War Memorial in Potters Lane, Higher Walton, Lancashire

1st World War Memorial in Potters Lane, Higher Walton, Lancashire

I am still looking out for war memorials and more will follow. Here is one spotted by my old friend Roy Connell whilst he was out bike riding in deepest rural Lancashire recently.

It’s a simple but powerful memorial to this small community’s WW1 lost generation.

War memorial at Townley Hall, Burnley

During 2014 I ran a series of postings about war memorials to remember the 100th anniversary of the start of the war to end all wars.

But of course that war went on for 4 years and it was sadly not the war to end all wars.

Here is a shot taken by ace Lydiate photographer Keith Page of the grand memorial at Townley Hall in Burnley.

War Memorial Townley Hall Burnley r

Click on the photo to enlarge it.

The Keith’s photo is amongst my Flickr shots at:-

www.flickr.com/photos/86659476@N07/

1st World War exhibition – York Castle Museum

Continuing my First World War theme for 2014.

This is a very well done exhibition all about the First World War and York’s place within it that Sheila, Jen and I had the good fortune to see recently. Here are some shots I took:-

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Click on each photo to enlarge it.

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There are more photos amongst my Flickr shots at:-
www.flickr.com/photos/86659476@N07/

Kitchener: The most famous pointing finger

www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-28642846

The BBC has the story – see link above:-

And a war poem for the day is:-

Here dead we lie by A E Housman (pub. 1936)

Here dead we lie because we did not choose

To live and shame the land from which we sprung.

Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose;

But young men think it is, and we were young.

Wall art on a former railway tunnel, now pedestrian walk way, under Bootle Strand Station.

Wall art on a former railway tunnel, now pedestrian walk way, under Bootle Strand Station.

A war poem for the 1st World War – How to Die by Siegfried Sassoon (1918)

How to Die by Siegfried Sassoon (1918)

Dark clouds are smouldering into red

While down the craters morning burns.

The dying soldier shifts his head

To watch the glory that returns;

He lifts his fingers toward the skies

Where holy brightness breaks in flame;

Radiance reflected in his eyes,

And on his lips a whispered name.

You’d think, to hear some people talk,

That lads go West with sobs and curses,

And sullen faces white as chalk,

Hankering for wreaths and tombs and hearses.

But they’ve been taught the way to do it

Like Christian soldiers; not with haste

And shuddering groans; but passing through it

With due regard for decent taste.

A War Poem for Wednesday 6th August – 2 days after war was declared in 1914

For a survivor of the Mesopotamian campaign by Elizabeth Daryush (1933)

War’s wasted era is a desert shore,

As know those who have passed there, a place

Where, within sound of swoll’n destruction’s roar,

Wheel the wild vultures, lust and terror base;


Where, making ready for them, stalk the grim


Barbarian forms, hunger, disease and pain,

Who, slashing all life’s beauty limb from limb,

Crush it as folly on the stony plain.

The location of this war memorial is unknown but it is quite magnificent. If you recognise it please let me know where it is. Credit Jen Robertson

The location of this war memorial is unknown but it is quite magnificent. If you recognise it please let me know where it is. Credit Jen Robertson

A desert: those too who, as thou, have been

Followers of war’s angel, Sacrifice,

(Stern striders to beyond brute torment’s scene,


Soarers above the swerves of fear and vice)


Know that the lightning of his ghostly gaze

Has wrecked for them for ever earth’s small ways.