brother (by some eighteen years) was a Serjeant (correct sp) in the
Royal Irish Regiment having fought with them since 1914. Through
attrition and good performance he had worked his way up to his rank
and now, with tens of thousands of other men attached to the Fifth
Army group he waited in a stinking trench outside St Quentin for the
opening rounds of the battle all the men knew was coming...The
Kaiser's Big Push. By now, with America's involvement in the war,
Germany knew they would lose so this was now a land grab to at least
achieve something. As the sun lightened the eastern sky, the German's
unleashed a bombardment that could be heard in Dover. It was at some
point then that the young Irishman, who had fought so bravely for
nearly four years, was immolated into nothingness along with three
thousand of his comrades.
The Poizieres memorial commemorates these men. Those whose bodies
could be found are buried there. The rest, some fourteen thousand
missing men, have their names etched in marble on the Walls which
surround the structure and that is where I found Patrick's name nearly
ninety three years after he died, the first person in the family to do
so.
The graveyard and memorial site is everything it should be. Quiet,
respectful and desperately sad. Nothing can give those young men back
the lives they could not live but at least here, they are remembered
and can truly rest in peace.
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