Nobody’s grand-dad at all

Yesterday wrote of a family bible found in the loft of his house. The bible contained a letter, dated 1911, about a young man called Harry Hoad who had just left school and was being recommended for employment by his headmaster.

A bit of research turned up young Harry’s fate, which–as he was born in Britain in 1897–is precisely what you might fear it to be: he died in the trenches on June 7, 1917. wrote a poem, which has put to music, to, I think, great effect.

There’s a slim chance the song is wrong, for a Harry E Hoad was married in early 1916, and he might have managed to have been a grand-dad after all, but damn if the whole thing hasn’t affected a bunch of us. History is closer than we think.

4 thoughts on “Nobody’s grand-dad at all

  1. God, that’s heartbreaking. Poor kid. And if that’s all the parents had of him…

    I am curious about the regimental pins, if those aren’t his regiments.

    The poem is lovely, and I mean it no disrespect when I say I hop Harry managed to settle down in 1916 and have a job and grandchildren underfoot.

  2. Well, I think it’s pretty likely it’s that Harry who died in the trenches, but if he was lucky he might’ve had a child before he went off to die. I very much doubt he ever saw any grandchildren, and maybe not even any children. Snif.

  3. Course if he did marry, children or not, there’s the entirely untold story of his widow, waiting for his return. They can’t have been married more than a year and a half, and I can’t help thinking they quite probably married because he was leaving for the war. I wonder if Mrs Hoag could be traced?

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