This is my uncle... Robin Hands... Private Robin Hands of the 5th Battalion of the King’s Own Scottish Borderers to be exact.
He was born in a small village near Blaenau Ffestiniog in Wales on 2nd April 1923... and he died, killed in action in Germany on 8th April 1945, just six days after his 22nd birthday and one month before the Nazi forces surrendered.
One bloody month...
My Mum was with my great-grandmother Ann (Robin’s mother) at their Leicestershire home when the fateful telegram was delivered... She was only six at the time, but I guess there are certain moments in life that are forever etched on your memory...
I cannot comprehend loss in such devastating circumstances, nor can I understand just how many families have been so cruelly affected by losing a loved one in two World Wars and more recent conflicts, all of which have taken place during the past hundred years... no time at all in the overall scheme of things.
I’m going to keep this short and to the point... I salute each and every soldier that has fought to defend this country... wherever and whenever... I salute their selfless bravery and courage.... and I offer my sincere thanks to the memory of those who, like my Uncle Robin, never came home...
They went with songs to the battle, they were young.
Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.
Lest we forget.....
God bless you Uncle Robin xx
All my own work... almost.