If I should die, think only this of me:
That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is forever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed:
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England’s, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home
And think, this heart,all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given,
Her signs and sounds; dream happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
My uncle, Bertram Henry Henderson. Killed in action October 27, 1944.
My older sister and myself with my Uncle shortly before he was shipped overseas.
Our Uncle’s grave continues to be looked after by the Belgian Family entrusted in their care more than 70 years ago. Member of that family continue to maintain contact with our family.
( The Soldier – Rupert Brooke)