This is my Great Grandfather, Alexander Wilson in his uniform. He was in the 7th (Princess Royals) Dragoon Guards. He fought in the Somme, at Ypres I think. Him and his mates had the unenviable task of charging at the German Machine-guns, on horse-back (see his spurs?), and although you may find this difficult to believe, they were armed primarily with lances. Such was the incompetence of the British high-command, and in particular Earl Douglas Haig (in whose memory Poppy day is held), who thought that Cavalry still had a part to play in modern warfare. Of course they were slaughtered wholesale, Alex only survived because his horse got shot, he got knocked-out and ended-up trapped beneath the horse. He landed in hospital with dysentry eventually. They never had much in the way of food, so he'd had to eat raw flesh from his dead horse (horses are very clean animals), because someone stole his ration-pack when he was out-cold beneath the horse.My Father said that he didn't talk much about the war, even though he kept asking him as a child. He must have seen some terrible stuff though. He did recount one story about seeing a soldier who was leading a donkey laden with ammo up to the frontline, falling into a mud-filled shell-hole. The donkey and the soldier just disappeared, never to be seen again. Everyone just carried on, death was meaningless to them. And to think, all those young men thought that they were heading off on some great adventure, and the ones who came back would never be able to convey how terrible it really was, so they kept it to themselves mainly.
