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THREEQUARTERS of a million Britons were killed in the First World War. And possibly as many more wished they had been. They were the survivors who were left to live out their lives with appalling injuries, both physical and psychological. 82-year-old Joan Jones, fondly remembers one of them, Will John, the man who brought her parents to Swansea.
Joan Jones, who remembers Will John as one of the most inspirational influences in her life.
Arthur & Dolly Marshall -Wedding Day 9 Aug 1905 at Bayswater.
Arthur and 'Dolly' Marshall, c.1915, in Brighton, during his leave from war service.
My parents, Arthur Henry and 'Dolly' Ethel C. Marshall, had been married in Bayswater, London in 1905 and lived in Westcliffe and Hove in East Sussex, when the war came and my father went away on active service, serving as a despatch rider with The Royal Marines Light Infantry, in Gallipoli and the Dardanelles.
Will John in 1914
At home, many women worked in munitions factories making bullets and shells for the battles, but fate decreed that my mother, Dolly was asked to work with the soldiers at St. Dunstan's Home for the war blinded, in Brighton.
Joan remembers her mother telling her how stressful the work was, 'Many of the young men were not only blind,' said Joan, 'They had been wounded in other ways, having lost arms or legs, had poison gas in their lungs, and suffered from shell-shock, after months in the trenches in terrible conditions.'
One morning, when Dolly arrived at the Home, she was asked to go to the office of the Director, Sir Arthur Pearson. Wondering what she had done wrong she tapped nervously on his door. But all he wanted to discuss was a particularly sad case, a young man called Will John, who had been blown up by one of the grenades, which he was delivering to the front line.
The blast had taken off his left arm just below the elbow. He had lost his left eye, and was blind in the other. His body was peppered with small pieces of shrapnel, and had poison gas in his lungs. He was twenty-one and his state of mind was suicidal.
Sir Arthur Pearson, who had obviously recognised Dolly's exceptional abilities and wondered if she would look after poor Will John. Dolly herself had doubts, but Will was already being lead into the office.
As Joan recalls, her mother could have wept, but instead, took his hand and introduced herself.
They were taken to her home, Burton House by car, and she fed him lunch, which she had to cut up and feed him with. They had a long chat about his home in Wales, a place called Mumbles!
When my father was on leave, he got on very well with the young Welshman, and the three of them, my mother, father and Will, would go out together even cycling, which must have been very difficult, but they did it!
The young soldier, was eventually operated on at a military hospital, and some sight restored to his remaining eye. He had to wear spectacles, with thick lenses, which had to be balanced with a piece of heavy glass and he was also fitted with a very realistic artificial eye.
The artificial arm, which he was also supplied with, was very heavy and awkward and he seldom used it, but became very adept at doing things with one hand.
In 1919, after he had returned home to Mumbles, he invited my parents down for a holiday, where they stayed in Park Street with his father and step-mother. This was their first visit to any part of Wales and when they saw Langland and Caswell with their lovely sandy beaches and bathed in the clear blue sea, they were entranced. They must have decided, as a result of this holiday, that they would like to live in this idyllic part of the world, and asked Will to look around for suitable places to build.
They had been to see the Ideal Home Exhibition at some time, and had bought the plans of a bungalow they had seen there. Will found three plots of land, but the one they chose was part of two fields let to a farmer by the Duke of Beaufort (who owned a lot of land in Mumbles and Swansea). These fields eventually became Underhill Park.
I was born in 1920, which could have put a spanner in the works, nevertheless, the decision to move went ahead. They sold Burton House in Hove, put their furniture in store and took up residence with Mr. and Mrs. John and Will, in Park Street. There, they stayed for about a year until ‘The Nook’ was built, walking up with me in the pram, most days, to see how the building was progressing. They moved in about 1922, when I was two years old.
Our friend, Will John (I always called him Uncle Will) who had introduced my parents to Mumbles, eventually came to live with us at ‘The Nook’ and through him we met many Mumbles people who became our friends too. A common rapport obviously existed between my father and Uncle Will, who were great friends, possibly due to their common wartime experiences, which only those who undergo them could comprehend.
Will was helped by Saint Dunstan's to open a double fronted tobacconists shop in The Dunns,
From a suicidal wreck he had become a successful and popular local character, whose resilience was widely respected.
Will's shop was a double-fronted premises. On one side Will sold cigarettes, tobacco and confectionery. On the other he had cooked meats and steak and kidney pies.
"He coped well," said Joan. "It became difficult if several people were waiting to be served because his disability made him slow, but I understand his customers were always patient. They liked and respected him.
"I remember a time when the man who made the steak and kidney pies was ill for a couple of weeks. My mother took over, using her ordinary gas cooker in the kitchen. Nobody noticed the difference."
Will John, 1930
Will's image remains strong in Joan's memory. "I can see him now," she said.
He was truly amazing man," she said. "I believe he went to Oxford Street school and left at 14. In his teens he was a coachman to a lady who lived in West Cross. "Despite his apparent lack of education he was one of the most rounded men I've ever known, interesting and interested in everything. "He was a good mathematician and his hand-writing was wonderful. "He also taught me almost everything I knew about history. "Having only one arm didn't stop him from doing anything.
"We had a third of an acre in our garden and he always helped my father, even with the digging. "He played croquet and tennis with me. He managed to hold his racquet and a ball in one hand and throw the ball up in the air to serve.
"He was one of the family and I can't ever remember a cross word between us all. Debates yes, but never rows and arguments."
"He had a strong nose and dark hair which always shone because he put Brylcream on it. And invariably there would be a cigarette in his mouth, despite his poisoned lungs.
"In fact he, my mother and my father used to smoke most of the day, though my mother would never have a cigarette in public.
"Will being a tobacconist there was always a ready supply. When he gave up the shop, his supplier used to come and see him at home so he still bought wholesale. "I can remember sitting at the table doing my homework and hardly being able to see the other side of the room for cigarette smoke. But it had one good effect. It put me off for life."
"I can remember sitting at the table doing my homework and hardly being able to see the other side of the room for cigarette smoke. But it had one good effect. It put me off for life."
In the evenings he played bridge with my parents.
In order to bring a degree of normality to his life, a friend designed this wooden card-holder which helped enormously and enabled him to join in games of whist, bridge and rummy without having to hold his cards.
As a child, Joan remembers good-naturedly teasing Will by pretending to look at his cards. He also had a special set of dominoes with raised dots, which he could read by touch.
Will died in 1937 of bronchial pneumonia, aggravated by the residue of poison gas still in his lungs. Before the days of antibiotics or even penicillin. He was in his early 40s.
"We were all terribly upset," Joan remembered. "My great regret was not being at the funeral to say a last goodbye. I was 17 and in the middle of school exams at the time and my parents thought it would be too distressing for me."
Joan still thinks of Will often. "He helped to shape and influence me.
"In many ways he was the most important character I've known. He never made a big thing about his injuries. He never even complained. He just got on with life.
I still look back with affection on the time I spent with this remarkable man. His spirit and determination changed and enriched my life and that of my parents, who without that long-ago meeting, would never have discovered and moved to Mumbles, where I still live today.
Editor’s note:
In themselves, the photographs do not give any concept of the suffering endured during The Great War, except to chronicle an eager volunteer in 1914 and his subsequent physical injuries.
We can only guess at his inner feelings and expectations during the time of his greatest despair. The indications are that he must have felt that he stood no chance of leading anything like a normal life or of gaining useful employment after suffering such injuries. Suffice it to say, he was proved wrong and lived to enjoy life with vital help from St. Dunstan’s and his new-found friends. He eventually felt able to open a shop in Mumbles and gain the satisfaction of making a useful contribution to the local community.
The above account describes one such experience where fate takes a hand but there must have been many wounded soldiers who did not enjoy the opportunity that this fortuitous meeting provided— a new beginning.
Another villager recalls an encounter, which sheds light on the existence of many others who may have been suffering from what is known today as ‘shell shock’ or ‘post traumatic stress’.
‘About 1930, I, as a small boy, remember staying with a friend whose parents ran a kind of ex-servicemen’s hostel in Oxfordshire. This was a large country house and there were perhaps 20 to 30 apparently able-bodied ex-soldiers staying there, whose minds had been affected by the Great War and even as a small boy I noticed that they appeared to act strangely. Twelve years after the War, they were still being deemed not fit enough to return to their families, and probably never would be’.
Joan MarshALL IN 1938.
St Dunstan's changed its name to Blind Veterans UK in 2012.
It did so, "to help more people understand who we are and what we do, so we can help blind veterans...We know that not enough people are aware of us...We've thought long and hard about what we're all about - and our new identity captures this perfectly."
You will find the site of Blind Veterans UK.
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