Lieutenant Colonel Harry Stevenson WRIGHT
See Burials with Medals and Awards
Royal Army Service Corps
Died 14th September 1915
Arthur was 48 years and 90 days old when he signed up on 6th August 1915 according to his Attestation Papers. He was living at 22 Chapel Street, Merthyr Tyddfil. He was unmarried and an engine driver and was 5 feet 3 inches tall.
Arthur was embarking at Southampton docks and had a heart attack and died on the quay on the 14th September 1915.
Amongst his effects was a pipe, safety razor, pocket knife, tobacco pouch, prayer book, purse and key, handkerchief and a South African War Medal.
There was an inquest which concluded that Arthur died of natural causes.
Burial no. CofE 1725.
Royal Field Artillery
Died 8th July 1916 Age 23
He Died That We Might Live
He was wounded on the first day in the battle of the Somme.
There are 2 headstones for Henry George. The other one says:
In Loving Memory Of
Sgt. Henry George
Died Of Wounds Received
July 8th 1916 Aged 23 Years
He is commemorated on a war memorial in st. Mary's Church, Stanwell.
The Army Registers of Soldiers Effects states that Henry died on the way from Southampton Docks to Netley by motor ambulance.
His parents were Henry and Alice of Tunbridge Wells. he was married to Adelaide Young. (CWGC Registers)
Burial no. CofE 1801
East Lancashire Regiment
Died 27th November 1915
Burial no. CofE 1758.
For The Fallen
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds
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.
They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are
As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are starry in the time of our
To the end, to the end, they remain.