Forewarning from Flanders – Peter Culley (29th)

2025. It’s been a rum old year so far, starting with Christmas Day spent on a trolley in the local A&E and followed by a week in hospital. On my return home, slightly traumatized, I ventured one look at the state of the country and the world; took stock of my wife’s interminable patience as she endures what is now almost 2 years on the NHS waiting list for treatment; and lapsed into a depression that has lasted since.

At the recent Annual Reunion in Northampton I finally had to admit that during this time I had written nothing – either for the AATS Newsletter or for my own amusement. I had wanted to of course. I had read the articles submitted by other ex-Apprentices (those whom I like to consider as ‘the competition’) and mentally kicked myself that the Culley moniker was absent from the Newsletter (to say nothing of the glorious banner of the 29th), but to no avail – the muse had departed.. You can call it Writer’s block if you like even though that sounds a little presumptuous, seeing as I am only a Scribbler! Meeting my mates in the 29th helped however and I thereupon resolved to give the creative juices another go.

This is not the first time that literary ideas have been conspicuous by their absence. When this happens I have found that inspiration comes most readily from our own past experience, which makes sense after all. Over the last years or so I have – from time to time – indulged in minor obsessions that have (at least temporarily) – been quite overwhelming to the exclusion of all others, and thereby lies salvation. They include,for instance, Ancient Egypt; philately; amateur astronomy; genealogy; etc. This last can be partially explained by the fact that I was adopted very soon after birth, leaving me with a great desire to find my birth parents in later life as well as the backstory to my adopted family. . I spent hours seeking birth, marriage and death certificates, and frequented the reading room at the National Archives, Kew. In due course I moved on to my wife’s family who hail from Yorkshire, and that is how I stumbled upon the theme for this latest article. Among the several papers accumulated from this search was one small souvenir that brought a lump in my throat – a silk postcard.
OK, a quick resume for those unfamiliar with these mementos. Although they were introduced in 1900 and continued until the 1950’s, their heyday was the First World War when they proved popular with British Tommies who mailed them home to loved ones with their letters. They were produced by hand and featured colourful scenes such as flowers, homes with roses round the doors, patriotic symbols, etc. They cost between 1-3 francs (about a day’s pay for low-ranking soldiers), and some 10 million were manufactured in total.

My silk postcard is pretty typical – 2 people on a raft sailing into the sunset with a border of trees and foliage. The wording reads, “We will be Happy Once Again” which I am sure resonated with many who both sent it and read it. I’m not so sure about the other 2 words on the card: “Never Mind”. Seems to me the poor blighters involved in that bloody holocaust had plenty to ‘mind’ about!!
On a more personal note, this particular silk postcard was sent to ‘Master John Evans (my wife’s loving uncle) then living in Stairfoot, near Barnsley, The message reads: “Dear John, I hve very great pleasure in sending you this card together with my very best love. I hope this war will soon be over so that I can once again come to Stairfoot – and you to Elsecar to meet Aunt Polly. Your loving uncle Alf” Sadly we are unable to identify Alf. The card no doubt accompanied a letter with perhaps a date, although I doubt any location was permitted by the censor, I do not know whether Alf survived the bloodbath that passed for the Western Front. I do know he was one of thousands who had no say in the matter and were conscripted to fight for King and country (as were his opponents across No Mans’ Land in the enemy trenches). He is probably too lowly to be aware of the euphoria that accompanied the outbreak of war in so many capitals (there is even a photo showing a young Hitler celebrating the call to arms!) From his heartfelt plea for the war to end it is clear he and countless others soon discarded euphoria for the reality of mud and slaughter that ensued.

And there we have it. The horrors of the ‘war to end all wars’ were soon eclipsed by even worse to come in the Second World War, and subsequent hostilities and yet we appear to have learned nothing. I read daily of world statesmen sabre rattling and threatening Armageddon and I fear for my grandchildren. Alf’s plea for an end to hostilities has been drowned out by the threat of coming conflict. Are we destined to repeat the cycle. or might a few heartfelt words on a silk postcard serve to give us pause before we repeat the tragedy?