Great Uncle Stanley

All Quiet on the Western Front

The Static Western Front of 1915

My father's Uncle Stanley was killed in the Battle of Loos during the first year of the Great War, or WWI.  I distinctly remember a conversation with my grandmother about her older brother, and how she still thought of him as her older brother, even though he'd been killed at the age of 19.  (Incidentally, another casualty on the exact same day was the only son of Rudyard Kipling.)  Here are transcriptions of two letters sent back to my family, the first to Stanley's father, my great-grandfather, and the second to his sister, my great aunt.

Sunday, Oct. 3^rd, 1915

Battalion Head Quarters

4^th Grenadier Guards

B.E.F.

France

Dear Mr. Fullman,

     It is with regret that I inform you that your son, Pte. Stan Fullman, met his end in an attack on Hill 70 last Monday evening.  He lay in the open beside me when a piece of shrapnel struck him in the back.  He did not cry out & went asleep & then must have passed away.

     I have been a chum of his since we met at Marlow and his going is a loss to all who knew him.  A parcel or two has arrived since, but I doubt there is anything you would want.

     Things are awful out here & thousands of good boys have gone down.  I hope you will find comfort despite the grief you will naturally experience in this hour of trial.  Sending my condolences to his parents and sisters, I will close & remain

Yours very sincerely

Harry Carr

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

Somewhere

2.11.15

Dear Miss Fullman,

     I received your very nice letter a few days ago & I take this opportunity of writing a few words in reply.  Your letter reached me after coming out of the trenches for a 14 days rest.  We have been at it nearly continuously since Sept. 26^th & so you can imagine that we are ready for it.

     Yes, I have heard Stanley speak of his sister a time or two & I believe he once showed me a photo.

You thank me for sending you early news of what happened to your brother & pending confirmation naturally cling to hope that he is still alive.  I will try & tell you what happened.  About 16 of us were cut off & in a dip on Hill 70.  I was there for 30 hours laying on my stomach.  Your brother was there laying beside me.  He was hit in the back on his left side with shrapnel.  A piece went through his pack.  I don’t know what his injuries were—I dare hardly lift my head.  But he was not mutilated & did not bleed at all.  He went off in a deep sleep & I left him about 24 hours after he was hit.  I rolled away.  When I left him he was warm though stiff this at dusk on the Tuesday evening.  And this was between the lines.  I managed to get in though fired on by our own men.

     Being his sister I tell you these details.  I would show them to your father.  It is not my wish to give you any false hopes & so I am giving you these details so that they may help you in your hopes & fears.

I was very pleased to receive your letter & I hope you will excuse the writing of my reply.  Seeing that you don’t know who you are writing to & to give you an idea I just tell you that I am a boy fro’ Lancashire.

     If you would like to know anything else of your brother, I will do my best to tell you.  Hoping you will find comfort despite the dark cloud, I will close & remain

Sincerely Yours

H. Carr