Charlie, or Charles Forder, was my grand father.

Charlie was willing to sacrifice his life for future generations.

All very romantic and all that ... but i suspect he was probably drafted along with the millions other unwitting young men at the outbreak of hostilities.

He fought in the battle for Le Somme, Verdun and finally in Ypres were he was hit by shrapnel and subsequently sent back home.

From stories passed on to his children, i garnered the impression that his war alternated between sheer boredom, belly squelching fear and bursts of adrenaline ...

He lost many friends in the carnage and considered himself unbelievably lucky - charmed - to get out in one piece : even though he was partially disabled.

Did he kill people ?

I don't know.

He eventually emigrated to Ireland where-upon he married, divorced and remarried (i think) and had two children - Dorothy and John.

My mother and my uncle.

I never met him, even though i would truly have loved to.

He died in August 1980 at the ripe old age of 95.

It's shameful to admit, but i only ever think of him on rememberance weekend.

And i thank him.

And others like him,

Who are forever forgotten.