大象传媒

My Grandad was only 16 years of age when unknown to his family he decided to join the Army. When his Mother found out she tried to stop him but they said he had already accepted the King's Shilling and was on his way to France.
During the First World War, my Grandad, Thomas Drinkwater (who lived in Altrincham and was based in The Cheshire Regiment) was found still alive amongst the many dead on the battlefield at The Somme in 1916.
My Grandmother had already been sent a telegraph that my Grandad had been presumed killed in action.
It was on the Sunday, which was an agreed cease-fire day by both parties that the Red-Cross came upon my Granded who they took for dead. The stretcher-bearer recognised him as someone who lived down his street and decided to take some form of identification back home to his Mother. It was at this point that he realised my Grandad was still breathing and took him back to the First Aid Post. His left knee had been shattered, his artery in his arm ripped out and a finger blown off. He was transferred to a Hospital in France.
My Grandmother received another Telegraph saying that he had been found seriously wounded on the battlefield.
The Doctors' in France said his leg would have to come off but again he was recognised by a Dr. Hickey, who was a Surgeon, and one of the local Doctors' from back home. He listened to my Grandad's plea not take off his leg and decided to operate. Dr. Hickey had been a Surgeon in the Boar War and had come across this sort of injury before. He decided to put a steel pin into the leg joining the bottom to the top, but my Grandad's knee was always stiff and he had to drag it along.
My Grandad received five medals for his courage and dedication to his Country. He let each of the medals go for a packet of 10 Woodbines as he was so disgusted with the 5 shillings a week War Pension he received for his injuries.
His Aunty found out and managed to save one of his medals engraved with his name on. She passed this on to her daughter who in turn passed it on to my Mother when she was 21 years old.
It was 12 months after the war that the British Legion started up, they took out proceedings against the Army on my Grandad's behalf, and they managed to get his War Pension raised to 10 shillings a week. He died when he was 48 years old from gangrene, as they could not remove all the shrapnel from his lungs.
The British Legion buried my Grandad with full honours, their flag drapped across the coffin and with six bearers.
The bill for the funeral was then 拢48 and they saw to everything.
Although I was too young to remember him, his memory through my mother, Jessie Bate (nee Drinkwater) lives on and now I share it with you.

A very proud Granddaughter - Doreen Kerfoot.

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