bottlebugs
Well-Known Member
1928 was an auspicious year for me. That is the year of my latest Pepsi bottle, cap and label.
It's also the year Grampa kept his promise to my Grandmother. He met her on the family farm upon returning from WW1 in 1919. She seemed to be the mature woman that had been writing to him in the trenches of Ypres. He was 37. She was actually only 14. (Yikes!) She was also a gifted writer who was published in the pulp fiction of the day.
When she grabbed his army cap and threw it in the well, he realized her immaturity and asked her her real age. Before quickly exciting the scene, he promised to return to her in seven years. She would be 21 by then and old enough to make up her own mind. He did. They wed. My Mom was born two years later.
I recently found my Grandpa's service record from WW1 on line. I was curious about a mark
on his left hand noted by several physicians. I thought it was a tattoo. One of our members
suggested Gun Shot Wound. Boy was he/she right! Tattoo marks resulted in a dead end. GSW annotations explained not just my Grandpa's decision to refuse a pension but why he did so.
He was injured by an exploding ordinance in the trenches of Ypres. He was put into a special wing of the hospital and questioned along with all the other GSW patients with hand and foot wounds. The trenches and fighting conditions in the trenches were so bad that it became common practice to shoot oneself in the hand or foot to avoid returning. They called it Shell Shock and the name was hung with a badge of shame. If proved they could be courtmartialed and imprisoned. Some were labelled deserters and executed.
My Grandpa's medical records were repeatedly marked with that spurious GSW. He finally had it corrected when he re-enlisted in 1920. It was a shrapnel scar on the palm of his hand and not a GSW. To apply for a pension would have dredged up the whole nightmare again so he said no thanks.
Our member solved a big family mystery. From there I was able to find the home where he and his new bride started his family, and the actual address where my Mom was born.
Thanks!
It's also the year Grampa kept his promise to my Grandmother. He met her on the family farm upon returning from WW1 in 1919. She seemed to be the mature woman that had been writing to him in the trenches of Ypres. He was 37. She was actually only 14. (Yikes!) She was also a gifted writer who was published in the pulp fiction of the day.
When she grabbed his army cap and threw it in the well, he realized her immaturity and asked her her real age. Before quickly exciting the scene, he promised to return to her in seven years. She would be 21 by then and old enough to make up her own mind. He did. They wed. My Mom was born two years later.
I recently found my Grandpa's service record from WW1 on line. I was curious about a mark
on his left hand noted by several physicians. I thought it was a tattoo. One of our members
suggested Gun Shot Wound. Boy was he/she right! Tattoo marks resulted in a dead end. GSW annotations explained not just my Grandpa's decision to refuse a pension but why he did so.
He was injured by an exploding ordinance in the trenches of Ypres. He was put into a special wing of the hospital and questioned along with all the other GSW patients with hand and foot wounds. The trenches and fighting conditions in the trenches were so bad that it became common practice to shoot oneself in the hand or foot to avoid returning. They called it Shell Shock and the name was hung with a badge of shame. If proved they could be courtmartialed and imprisoned. Some were labelled deserters and executed.
My Grandpa's medical records were repeatedly marked with that spurious GSW. He finally had it corrected when he re-enlisted in 1920. It was a shrapnel scar on the palm of his hand and not a GSW. To apply for a pension would have dredged up the whole nightmare again so he said no thanks.
Our member solved a big family mystery. From there I was able to find the home where he and his new bride started his family, and the actual address where my Mom was born.
Thanks!
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