Rick’s story
Accountant Eric ‘Rick’ Smart’s (pictured, left) great uncle,
also named Eric, joined the 1st City of Birmingham Battalion shortly after the
outbreak of World War I, and was killed in action in 1916. In 1986, Rick
inherited a collection of his great uncle’s letters and photos, and is now
campaigning to keep his memory alive.
“Before the war, my great uncle worked as a clerk. He was
not a natural soldier. He hated military life. But he joined a Pals Battalion
almost as soon as war broke out. I do think it’s wrong to say he died in vain
or it was a useless waste of life, because I’m certain he didn’t see it that
way. He went there out of a sense of duty.
He was killed on 18 November 1916 during the Battle of
Ancre. The conditions that morning were horrendous; there were 63 known
casualties, out of 500. That was just the ones who were found, or came back and
died from their wounds. So many others, including Eric, were blown to bits – no
bodies were recovered.
Eric’s name is engraved on the Thiepval Memorial. I went
there in 2006 with my father, and I expect we were the first in the family to
have visited. I’m sure his father wouldn’t ever have gone. I recently asked my
oldest-living relative, who’s 92, what she remembered about Eric. She says he
was never ever mentioned, and that’s such a terrible thing, because it meant he
was never remembered.
It’s interesting how my generation, and even my children’s
generation, are now much more interested in the history of World War I. For me
it’s the human side of it that I find so interesting, especially as I share his
name and also, just like I am, Eric was the third son of a William Smart from
Birmingham. It’s almost as if I have a connection to his soul.
Even now, nearly 100 years on, his sacrifice still fills me
with emotion, and I feel a duty to carry the torch so his memory can live on.
My generation has a debt of gratitude to these people. They suffered so we
didn’t have to.”
Dave’s story
Former Rifleman Dave Hart (pictured, centre) joined the TA
in 1995, and was severely injured when a suicide bomber attacked the vehicle he
was travelling in while on routine patrol in Kabul on 28 January 2004. The
incident left him in a coma for three weeks, and as well as head trauma and
blood loss, his left arm was badly damaged.
“When I joined the TA, I always anticipated I’d experience
frontline service. In 2000, I volunteered to go to Northern Ireland. I
appreciated the opportunity to get away and do it for real. It was still pretty
volatile over there at the time, but it was a real learning experience, and it
was great to work alongside the regulars and feel as though I wasn’t being
judged for being a TA soldier, I was just being a soldier.
I went over to Kabul in November 2003. I was part of a
300-strong group working alongside the Gurkha Rifles. We were basically there
to patrol the area. For the most part the work was just routine stuff.
On the day we were attacked, we were escorting an Estonian
bomb disposal team; we were the lead Land Rover, with the two Estonian vehicles
in the middle and there was another Land Rover at the back.
I had massive head injuries and severe blood loss
afterwards, so my memory is pretty hazy, but as far as I’ve been informed, a
suicide bomber pulled up beside us as we were travelling down the road and
detonated. Our vehicle was heavily hit by the blast, which led to the death of
a friend and comrade.
Not a day goes by that I don’t reflect on it, whether it’s a
passing second, or five minutes of reflection. Kit, the guy who was killed, was
from Plymouth and I was from Exeter. We were friendly with all the Plymouth
boys, so I considered them good friends. It was a very sad loss, and it’s
always going to have repercussions.
I think it was poignant that our final parade before we went
to Afghanistan was Remembrance Day. Little did we know that there would be one
fewer of us standing there the same time next year. It has certainly taken on a
different meaning for me now, but I think that, for me, the anniversary of the
incident is the day when it really sticks in my mind.
I’ve recently graduated from Exeter University. Becoming a
student was a bit of a life change. I’d previously worked as a forklift driver
in a brewery, but I realised quite quickly that I wasn’t going to be able to do
that with a disability. I didn’t see it as a major stumbling block, but it
cancelled out manual work for me.
I now hope to become a primary school teacher, which was
never something I envisaged, but I’ve been doing voluntary youth work, which is
really rewarding. It gives you a new perspective on life, and I’m looking
forward to the challenge.”
Martin’s story
Martin Forde (pictured, right) served with the Queen’s
Dragoon Guards. He started out as an armoured car driver, but then went on to
fly helicopters. He saw active service in Germany and Northern Ireland before
he was shot down in Aden on 20 June 1967.
“My father had served with the King’s Dragoon Guards, so the
Army had always been a part of my life and joining the Queen’s Dragoon Guards
was a natural thing for me.
Aden was definitely the most dangerous place I’d served in.
On that day in 1967, there were about 300 people shooting at us. We were about
700ft above the city when we were hit. I tried to stay in control and began
descending, but we plummeted 300ft and crashed into some cliffs. What was going
through my mind? Stay alive. When you’re in that sort of situation, the
adrenaline really concentrates the mind on what you are doing.
I remember being shot very clearly. A bullet came up through
the big bubble of Perspex on the front of the helicopter, and made a big bang
like a bomb going off. I felt a slight tap on the knee, and I looked down to
find my kneecap was gone. It had shattered into a million pieces. I turned to
the guy next to me, and said: ‘Those bastards have got me.’
I was in hospital until March the following year, then I was
sent to Saighton Camp in Chester for my rehab. That place was fantastic. They
were so professional and their technology far ahead of anyone else in the
world. It was just unfortunate that there wasn’t the technology to replace
kneecaps.
When we first arrived at the centre from the helicopter,
there were 40 of us in a big ward, and people were laughing and joking, talking
to their mates. It was that camaraderie that helped aid my recovery.
When I was injured, my one worry was that I wouldn’t be able
to fly again, and the fact that I did I put down to the rehab unit, who were
superb. I carried on flying for another 31 years, until I retired in 1999. I’ve
flown over the jungle in Indonesia, the desert in Iran, and the South China
Sea; all over the world.
For quite a while I was Branch Chairman of the Copthorne
Legion, and every Remembrance Sunday we would remember the people from our
village and the surrounding areas who died in all the wars.
I’m currently County Chairman for Sussex, and one of my aims
is to educate people so they understand that the Legion is not just about the
two world wars. It’s there for those who serve now and all those who have
served previously.”
