Armistice Centenary

i.m. The Batty brothers  

Bertie (1900-16) & Lou (1912-2005)

The walk to Art School each day

    past the Recruiting Office.

The longed-for coloured crayons

    left ribbon-tied on the bed.

The lengthening gap in time

    after the one field postcard.

The fruitless search for a name

    he might have used to sign up.

The sergeant searching the house  

    when call-up age would have come.

Ninety years on, these stories

    told repeatedly, freshly.

This poem is explained in full by my wife’s Facebook post for today:

My mother's cousin will be laying a wreath at Gartcosh Remembrance Ceremony this morning in memory of Bertie, Herbert Yates Batty, her uncle, my great-uncle, who signed up under-age in 1916 and, having sent one field postcard home that autumn, was never heard from again.  Having signed up under a false name he has never been traced - one of the many unknown, mis-named soldiers buried somewhere in France or Belgium.  His parents never recovered from his disappearance and death, their pain multiplied when their house was later searched by the military police at the time when he was legitimately to have been called up.  I’ve done a piece as part of the '100 Hearts' exhibition by the Embroiderers' Guild which will be on show somewhere in the country.  It includes crayons representing the bundle of coloured crayons, tied up in blue ribbon, that Bertie left on his four year-old brother's bed, the day he left.