Chris Bullen

How many times last week did you read or hear the phrase “Lest We Forget”?

But we do. We want to.

I have several things in my possession that help me remember. One is my grandfather’s copy of the conductor’s score of the Gilbert and Sullivan opera The Mikado. The other is his British Army Sniper’s Handbook. He took both of them to France.

When the First World War broke out, Edwin Malkin was a tram conductor in Brighton, England. Like his friends and workmates, he volunteered for the army and enlisted in the Royal Sussex Regiment. He was a good shot and was made captain of the regiment’s rifle team.

On arrival in France, he was appointed head of the regiment’s sniper squad which meant going out into No Man’s Land at night, finding a good spot, and shooting Germans, preferably officers, from dawn. It was dangerous, and unpopular on both sides.

After the war Edwin rarely spoke about his experiences, but he did tell me one thing, as a schoolboy, I’ve never forgotten. Sixty thousand British soldiers fell on the first day of the Battle of the Somme in 1915.

Contrary to regulations, he kept a diary, which led to several punishments and demotions. But once his captain came up to him and said “Malkin, do you still keep that diary?” Expecting further punishment, nevertheless he answered “Yes”. To which the captain said “Good, can you look up the name of that town we stayed at last Wednesday?” The diary was never mentioned again and remained intact for all our family to read.

Edwin was gassed, and wounded several times, the last when he was buried when a shell exploded nearby. He was dug out by a German soldier and later repatriated to England. He migrated to New Zealand with his family in the 1920s.

He never attended dawn parades or reunions, partly because he never forgave the British Army for one assignment – he was put in charge of a firing squad for a poor soldier who couldn’t stand the shelling any longer and was charged with cowardice and sentenced to death.

Edwin wrote in his diary “I made sure my bullet went high”.

I wish President Donald Trump, who laments the death of 17 American soldiers in Iran, but no-one else, could ready my grandfather’s diary.