Yesterday
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.
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.
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.
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.
Just went and read over the entire tale. that’s awesome. }:)
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?