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15 novembre

The last to die in WW1

The last soldiers to die in World War I

By John Hayes-Fisher
Producer, Timewatch

In the closing minutes of World War I, the ceasefire within touching distance, a handful of troops died. As the 90th anniversary of the Armistice approaches, who were these men?

Just after 5 o'clock on the morning of 11 November, 1918, British, French and German officials gathered in a railway carriage to the north of Paris and signed a document which would in effect bring to an end World War I.

Within minutes, news of the Armistice - the cease fire - had been flashed around the world that the war, which was meant to "end all wars", was finally over.

And yet it wasn't, because the cease-fire would not come into effect for a further six hours - at 11am - so troops on the frontline would be sure of getting the news that the fighting had stopped.

That day many hundreds died, and thousands more injured.

The respected American author Joseph E. Persico has calculated a shocking figure that the final day of WWI would produce nearly 11,000 casualties, more than those killed, wounded or missing on D-Day, when Allied forces landed en masse on the shores of occupied France almost 27 years later.

What is worse is that hundreds of these soldiers would lose their lives thrown into action by generals who knew that the Armistice had already been signed.

The recklessness of General Wright, of the 89th American Division, is a case in point.

Seeing his troops were exhausted and dirty, and hearing there were bathing facilities available in the nearby town of Stenay, he decided to take the town so his men could refresh themselves.

"That lunatic decision cost something like 300 casualties, many of them battle deaths, for an inconceivable reason," says Mr Persico.

Final fallen

So who were the last to die?

New research by the BBC's Timewatch tells the story of some of the last to fall in WWI.

The final British soldier to be killed in action was Private George Edwin Ellison. At 9.30am Pte Ellison of the 5th Royal Irish Lancers was scouting on the outskirts of the Belgian town of Mons where German soldiers had been reported in a wood.

Aged 40, Pte Ellison was not the typical conscript, says military historian Paul Reed.

"He was a pre-war regular soldier; we can tell this by his number (L /12643) which is consistent with a man who enlisted in the early years of the 20th Century. He may even have been a Boer war veteran, considering his age."

It must have been odd for Pte Ellison to be back in Mons again. This is where his war started four years earlier when he was part of the British Expeditionary Force retreating from Mons in August 1914, just weeks after the outbreak of the war.

"During his four years at the front, George saw every type of warfare," says Mr Reed.

"He went into the first trenches as the war became deadlocked. He fought in the first gas attack, and on the Somme in 1916, watched the first ever tanks go up to the front."

Almost a million British soldiers had been killed in those intervening years, yet almost miraculously Pte Ellison had so far escaped uninjured. In just over an hour the ceasefire would come into force, the war would be over and Pte Ellison, a former coal miner, would return to the terraced street in Leeds to see his wife Hannah and their four-year-old son James.

And then the shot rang out. George was dead - the last British soldier to be killed in action in WWI.

Although the last British soldier to die, Pte Ellison would not be the last to be killed that morning. As the minutes ticked towards the 11 o'clock ceasefire, more soldiers would fall.

At 10.45 another 40-year-old soldier, Frenchman Augustin Trebuchon, was taking a message to troops by the River Meuse saying that soup would be served at 11.30 after the peace, when he too was killed.

Astonished enemy

Augustin Trebuchon's grave - along with all those French soldiers killed on 11 November 1918 - is marked 10/11/18. It is said that after the war France was so ashamed that men would die on the final day that they had all the graves backdated.

Just minutes before 11am, to the north around Mons, the 25-year-old Canadian Private George Lawrence Price was on the trail of retreating German soldiers.

It was street fighting. Pte Price had just entered a cottage as the Germans left through the back. On emerging into the street he was struck by the bullet which killed him.

But Pte Price's death at 10.58 was not the last. Further south in the Argonne region of France, US soldier Henry Gunther was involved in a final charge against astonished German troops who knew the Armistice was about to occur. What could they do? He too was shot.

The Baltimore Private - ironically of German descent - was dead. It was 10.59 and Henry Gunther is now recognised as the last soldier to be killed in action in WWI.



World War 1 Poem - In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

  John McCrae was a Canadian physician who fought
on the Western Front in 1914. In the summer of 1915
he was transferred to the medical corps in France.
He died of pneumonia while on active duty in 1918.
'In Flanders Fields' was written during the second battle
of Ypres. It became the best known poem of the first
world-war.

11 novembre

Flanders Fields

Today, exactly 90 years ago, on the 11th day of the 11th month at 11am the guns of the most devastating war up to that point came to an end.

It was also the day my great grandfather Charles could finally stick his head out of the trenches without getting it blown off.

He entered the war on the 4th of August 1914 aged 28, and lived through hell on earth, and mostly under it, until this day in 1918. After more than 4 years of whistling death from everywhere the guns fell silent.

My ancestor lived to tell his tale. And tell it he did, mostly to me, but also to anyone who cared enough. He lived well into the

20th century, passing on in 1971 having been knighted for his services and sacrifices by his country.

On this day, the 11th of November, I make my own private pilgrimage to the cemeteries of  Flanders Fields. And there are many. They dot the landscape of Flanders.

I drive to villages and towns with legendary names: Passendale, Ypres, Ploegsteert, Mons etc...

I visit the places where so many lives were lost. Cemeteries with row upon row of headstones. Some with the inscription “known unto God” or “a soldier of the Great War”.

Some are small with a few hundred graves smack in the middle of plowed fields, some are huge like Tyne Cot with its 12000 headstones and 35000 names of the missing engraved on huge panels. Some in peaceful surroundings like Polygon Wood, and many, many more. They are all over the previous front line. Silent sentinels to remind us not to forget, never to forget. But most do.

The world forgets the sacrifices they made. Just like they forget the last World War, just over 20 years after the slaughter of “The war to end all wars”.

I stood at Menin Gate in Ypres and saw the thousands upon thousands of names of those who have no known grave. I stood at the Vietnam Memorial too. I was at Roarks Drift and the Battle site of Ishlandwana battlefields in South Africa. I was at Bastogne and Waterloo.

And most forget. Just as always. They forget that it is because of those boys and men we can now live the way we like. It is because of them we can sleep peacefully. Think about them when you drive to work tomorrow with your cell phone in one hand and a mug of steaming coffee in the other. And when you see a soldier, don’t spit on him, but thank him, for he is willing to do what others fear to do or don’t want to do.

"Those who cannot remember the past, are condemned to repeat it," (George Santayana)

 

Their names liveth for evermore

 

 

KnightedKopie van Great Grandad Karel BILD0071BILD0087BILD0091 HPIM0400Menen Gate Wall BILD0060 BILD0051