(1 day, 21 hours ago)
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Madam Deputy Speaker (Caroline Nokes)
I call Rebecca Smith, who will speak for up to 15 minutes.
Rebecca Smith (South West Devon) (Con)
I beg to move,
That this House has considered the 110th anniversary of the battle of the Somme.
It is a great privilege to open this debate as we mark the 110th anniversary of one of the most defining battles of the first world war. For 141 days, between 1 July and 18 November 1916, British, Commonwealth and French forces fought along the River Somme in northern France. Around 3.5 million men took part. By the time the fighting ended, well over 1 million men on all sides had been killed, wounded, captured or were missing. Those numbers are almost impossible to comprehend.
Perhaps the figure that remains most deeply embedded in our national consciousness is that of the first day. At 7.30 on the morning of 1 July 1916, whistles sounded and tens of thousands of British soldiers climbed from their trenches and advanced towards the German lines. By the end of that day, the British Army had suffered 57,470 casualties, including 19,240 men killed. It remains the bloodiest day in the history of the British Army.
Yet even those extraordinary figures can distance us from what actually happened. Statistics convey the scale, but do not tell the stories: every single one of those 19,240 fatalities is a unique story—each a family tragedy; an empty chair at a table; potential left forever unfulfilled. Madam Deputy Speaker, you may have seen some of those stories projected on to the face of the Elizabeth Tower on Sunday to mark Remembrance Day. I thank the Speaker and his office for their work with the Commonwealth War Graves Commission in making that wonderful spectacle happen.
The battle of the Somme did not begin as the predominantly British offensive that it became. In December 1915, the allies had agreed a strategy of co-ordinated offensives against the central powers. Britain and France would attack on the western front, while their allies attacked elsewhere, making it more difficult for Germany and Austria-Hungary to move forces between theatres. Then, in February 1916, Germany attacked Verdun. The enormous demands of that battle meant that the French contribution planned for the Somme was dramatically reduced, while the British commitment increased. By the end of May, one of the principal purposes of the Somme offensive had become relieving the immense pressure on the French at Verdun.
The British Army that prepared for the attack was very different from the small professional force that had gone to France in 1914. It had expanded rapidly following Lord Kitchener’s call for volunteers, and many of the men preparing to fight had relatively little experience of battle. For seven days before the attack, allied artillery pounded the German positions. More than 1.5 million shells were fired. It was hoped that the bombardment would destroy the German defences and cut the thick belts of barbed wire protecting their positions, but in many places those defences survived. German troops had deep dugouts in which to shelter, and when the bombardment lifted, they emerged to meet the attacking infantry.
So began those 141 days of fighting. Names that had once meant very little to people in Britain, and what would become the wider Commonwealth, became part of national memory: Beaumont-Hamel, Mametz, Delville Wood, Pozières, Guillemont, Longueval, Courcelette and Thiepval. Today, anybody who visits the Somme discovers that those places are not simply names in a history book. The battlefield is marked by cemeteries and memorials, many standing on or close to the ground over which those men fought and died.
The Commonwealth War Graves Commission commemorates 1.7 million casualties of the two world wars in more than 150 countries. Of those, 140,000 died in France during those bloody months of the battle of the Somme. Around 61,700 have an identified grave, while approximately 78,950 are commemorated by name on memorials to the missing. Commonwealth casualties from the battle lie in more than 400 cemeteries across the region.
I should declare an interest: Members who have heard me speak on this subject will know well that, before entering this House, I had the great privilege of working for the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, and I now chair the all-party parliamentary group for the Commonwealth War Graves Commission and commemoration. That experience taught me something very simple: behind every one of these enormous figures is a name, and behind every name is a story. Every Member of this House will have many stories from their own constituency, and I want to put a few of the names from my South West Devon constituency on the record.
On 1 July, the 8th and 9th Battalions of the Devonshire Regiment were part of the attack south of Mametz village, which was behind German lines. Successfully taking the village and the surrounding woods, the battalions returned to Mametz to bury their dead in a section of their old frontline trench. Now known as the Devonshire cemetery, the site contains 163 Commonwealth burials from the first world war. There lies Private Thomas Collings of Sparkwell, Plympton, killed on the first day of battle. Sadly, I am yet to visit the cemetery, but it is famous for the inscription, “The Devonshires held this trench. The Devonshires hold it still.”
Acting Lance Corporal Robert John Antiss was born in Ivybridge and enlisted in Plymouth with the 9th (Service) Battalion of the Devonshires. He was killed in action in Ginchy on 6 September 1916, aged 25. Alongside him, and killed on the same day, was Private Martin John Damberell, known as Jack to his family and friends. Having lied about his age, Jack was only 17. His family in Ivybridge received the news that he was missing, but it was not until a year later that it was confirmed he had been killed. Both men are buried and commemorated at Delville Wood cemetery in Longueval.
It is particularly appropriate that we should be holding this debate here, though, because the losses of the Somme reached into Parliament. Thomas Michael Kettle had served as the Member of Parliament for East Tyrone between 1906 and 1910. In 1916, he was serving as a lieutenant in the Royal Dublin Fusiliers. He was killed on 9 September 1916, aged just 36. He has no known grave, and his name is commemorated on the Thiepval memorial. Gerald Archibald Arbuthnot was, as part of a long political career, MP for Burnley for nine months in 1910. He was unfortunately killed on 25 September 1916.
Reginald Lanchbery worked in the other place as a Clerk in the Journal Office. He went to war with the Black Watch and died on 17 July 1916. Unlike Kettle, he has a known grave, at La Neuville British cemetery near Corbie. Reginald William Garton was the youngest son of an officer of the House of Commons. He was a lieutenant in the 11th South Lancashire Regiment, and was killed on 1 July. He is another one commemorated by name at Thiepval memorial.
Evelyn Walter James Johnson was the only son of a House of Commons Doorkeeper. A second lieutenant in the Bedfordshire Regiment, he was just 19 years old when he died of wounds later that month. Walter Ker Sanderson had worked in the Vote Office at the House of Commons. He served with the Border Regiment and was killed on the opening day of the battle, aged 34. He, too, is commemorated at Thiepval.
The consequences of the battle had an impact on those at the very highest political levels. The then Prime Minister, Herbert Henry Asquith, knew personally what thousands of parents across Britain were experiencing. His eldest son, Raymond Asquith, was killed during the battle and today lies at Guillemont Road cemetery.
One hundred and ten years later, those individual stories, just a few, help us to understand the numbers. Men from all different backgrounds, different ranks and different circumstances were all drawn into the same battle.
The Somme was not simply a British story. Men came from across Britain and Ireland and from across the empire. Australians, Canadians, Indians, Newfoundlanders, New Zealanders and South Africans took part. The British West Indies Regiment was represented, and men from Bermuda and Southern Rhodesia also served.
That international dimension can still be seen in the landscape. At Beaumont-Hamel, the Newfoundland memorial stands on the ground where the Newfoundland Regiment suffered devastating losses on 1 July. The memorial commemorates all 821 Newfoundland servicemen of the first world war who have no known grave. Perhaps nowhere is the scale of the battle more apparent than at Thiepval. Designed by Sir Edwin Lutyens and completed in 1932, the Thiepval memorial bears the names of more than 72,000 soldiers of the British and South African forces who died in the Somme sector and have no known grave. Around 90% of them died during the 1916 battle. Beside it lie 300 Commonwealth and 300 French servicemen in the Anglo-French cemetery, deliberately placed together as a permanent symbol of the alliance in which they fought.
Some may ask why Parliament should debate a battle 110 years after it took place. There are now no surviving veterans of the first world war to listen to our words, and those who fought at the Somme have passed well beyond living memory, as have most of their children. However, that makes our responsibility greater, not smaller. For a century, remembrance could be sustained by people who had been there, and then by the children and families who had listened directly to their stories, but, increasingly, we are the custodians of that memory. Our task is not to glorify war—anyone who stands among the graves of the Somme could scarcely do that—but to understand its cost.
In a previous debate, I spoke about the Commonwealth War Graves Commission’s work in encouraging families and historians to tell the stories behind those it commemorates, and that is something I feel particularly strongly about. A headstone gives us a name, a rank, a regiment and a date, but research can give us back the individual. It can tell us who their parents were, what job they did, where they lived, who they loved and what they left behind. One hundred and ten years later, we cannot know all their stories, but we can ensure that their names endure, that the places in which they rest are cared for and that future generations understand the extraordinary human cost concealed within two simple words: the Somme.
Tom Gordon (Harrogate and Knaresborough) (LD)
The hon. Lady is making a powerful and moving speech. I can remember being a child at high school and going on a trip to world war one battlefields. My little sister, who is 15, has never had that opportunity. Does the hon. Lady agree that we should do more to ensure that the memory lives on, by making sure that our children, grandchildren and future generations get the same opportunities to understand what happened at the Somme and throughout the world war?
Rebecca Smith
I agree with the hon. Gentleman 100%. I did not get to visit a cemetery site when I was young either, so I appreciate the situation his sister is in, but I got to when I was working for the commission. I pay tribute to my former colleagues, the public engagement co-ordinators at the commission, who go out to schools right across the country to ensure that the next generation can understand and hear some of these stories.
Mr Mark Francois (Rayleigh and Wickford) (Con)
Before my hon. Friend concludes her powerful speech, may I, from the Dispatch Box, commend the work that she has done for the Commonwealth War Graves Commission? She mentioned those who served from around the world at the Somme. Will she also pay tribute to the 36th Ulster Division, who broke through five rounds of trenches and managed to storm the Schwaben redoubt, in the course of which, on one morning, they earned five Victoria Crosses?
Rebecca Smith
I thank my right hon. Friend for that story; five Victoria Crosses is, of course, some contribution to the war. The Irish Regiment played a huge role, and I have seen some of the graves of the Inniskilling Regiment in Northern Ireland—once you have worked for the commission, you find yourself visiting cemeteries and graves on every trip abroad. I wholeheartedly agree with him.
Mr Dhesi
The hon. Lady is making a powerful speech. This week, I had the honour and privilege of laying a wreath at the Poppies to Paddington remembrance service, which commemorated the 110th anniversary of the battle of the Somme. Does she agree that Great Western Railway should be congratulated for holding that service and for giving a prominent role to the 1914 Sikhs and the King’s Gurkha Artillery unit, commemorating the incredible contributions of those from around the world to the war effort?
Rebecca Smith
I absolutely agree. I use the GWR train line. I usually put a wreath on the train from Ivybridge—a place I have mentioned several times—but I am grateful to my friends at the Royal British Legion in Ivybridge, who this time laid a wreath while I was here in Westminster. The Commonwealth War Graves Commission works very hard to recognise the role of Sikhs. They have their own headstones to ensure that that is visible to the public.
I hope that today’s debate will play a small part in our remembering those words: the Somme. I also hope that it will remind Members of the vital work of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission in caring for the graves, cemeteries and memorials of those who died, and ensuring that their stories continue to be told. The commission maintains a stories portal, called For Evermore, which will allow Members to upload their own stories of family members, constituents or others who fell. I urge Members to do so, and to add to the 13,000 stories already told there. I look forward to hearing the contributions of Members from across the House.
Several hon. Members rose—
Madam Deputy Speaker (Caroline Nokes)
Order. I regret that there will be an immediate five-minute time limit.
Jas Athwal (Ilford South) (Lab)
I commend the hon. Member for South West Devon (Rebecca Smith) for keeping alive the memory of those brave souls to whom we owe so much. There are moments in history when forgetting becomes an injustice, when silence becomes a betrayal, and when remembrance becomes not only a simple act of respect, but a duty. The battle of the Somme is such a moment. As has already been mentioned, on 1 July, after just one day, 19,240 British soldiers lay dead. The battle continued for another 141 days, until 18 November 1916, when more than a million men across all sides had died.
Today, I want to speak about men whose extraordinary contributions have often been overlooked; those Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs who fought under the British flag and endured the same horrors and shed the same blood. Their sacrifice was no less, their courage was immense, and their place in British history must be permanent. One extraordinary example of their courage came on 14 July 1916 at High Wood, during the battle of the Somme. Across the open fields of northern France, the British 7th Dragoon Guards advanced alongside the 20th Deccan Horse of the British Indian army, which was basically full of Sikh cavalrymen.
Picture the scene: German machine guns concealed in trenches and standing crops, artillery exploding all around, and Sikh soldiers thousands of miles from the Punjab charging forward on horseback, armed with just their swords, into the face of modern machine guns. Above them, a Royal Flying Corps aircraft helped to identify concealed German positions, assisting the cavalry as they advanced. The horsemen reached enemy positions and captured prisoners but suffered terrible casualties, and the ground could not be held indefinitely. Many fell, horses fell, and families thousands of miles away would never see their loved ones again.
Those Sikh cavalrymen demonstrated extraordinary courage in one of the most remarkable mounted actions of the Somme offensive, yet how many British schoolchildren know their story? I was once one of those children, and I was never taught it. How many know that Sikh soldiers charged across the killing fields? How many know that Hindu and Muslim soldiers also fought and died for Britain, and not only at the Somme, but across the wider world war? How many know that the history of Britain’s Asian communities did not begin with immigration after 1945, but began long before? That history was written in the trenches of Flanders and on the banks of the River Somme. It was written in the blood of men who travelled halfway around the world.
A Sikh mother’s grief was no different from a British mother’s grief. A Hindu father’s sorrow was no different from a Muslim father’s sorrow. The blood of an Indian soldier was no less precious than the blood of any other man who fell. However, their recognition has not always been equal. Indeed, investigations by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission have acknowledged historical inequalities in the commemoration of predominantly non-European servicemen. We must not just confront that, but rectify it, because remembrance cannot be selective. We cannot celebrate the achievements of the British empire while forgetting the people of that empire who made those achievements possible. This is not simply Sikh, Hindu or Muslim history; it is British history, and it belongs to every one of us. That is why the contribution of Indian soldiers must be properly recognised in our schools, our museums, our memorials and our national commemorations—not as a footnote, or a token gesture, but as an inseparable part of our shared national story.
Some 110 years later, the fields of the Somme are peaceful. The crops grow where soldiers once fell, and the birds sing where artillery once thundered. The silence of those fields must never become the silence of our history. We owe those men more than a wreath once a year; we owe them the truth, we owe them recognition and we owe them a permanent place in British national memory. Let us remember the Sikh who rode towards the guns. Let us remember the Hindu who stood beside his comrades. Let us remember the Muslim who gave his life far from home. Courage has no religion, sacrifice has no colour, and remembrance must have no hierarchy. Their courage is part of our history, their sacrifice is part of our nation, and their remembrance is our responsibility. We will remember them.
John Cooper (Dumfries and Galloway) (Con)
It is my solemn duty to break to right hon. and hon. Members that “Blackadder Goes Forth” is not a documentary. As we recall the charnel house that was the first day of the Somme, we must consider the reality and not the fiction that today surrounds the generation who suffered and sacrificed so much in the great war. To truly understand what our forefathers went through, we should look to great works such as “Tommy: The British Soldier on the Western Front” by the late Professor Richard Holmes. I was lucky enough to meet the professor, famous for his “War Walks” television series, during my own minor attempts to study military history. He told me that the two biggest barriers to earnest study of the first world war were the war poets—although he conceded that their testimony was valid, since they served—and “Blackadder Goes Forth”.
Those final frames of “Blackadder” captured the awful reality of death on an industrial scale—but showing every private soldier to be an economic conscript, every officer a public school toff and every general ensconced in a chateau far behind the lines? It simply was not like that. Take every public schoolboy and there still would not be enough numbers to officer the giant British Army on the western front alone. While
“‘Forward!’ he cried from the rear
And the front rank died”
is a lovely line from Pink Floyd, the “lions led by donkeys” narrative, which is set in stone today, is really a canard from the 1970s.
The creeping barrage on the first day of the Somme campaign, with the shells falling just ahead of our advancing infantry, was a failure. There is no disguising it, but it was a genuine attempt to change the tactics of a war of attrition and to give advancing infantrymen the edge in an era where technology had outpaced tactics. Our troops moved more slowly than expected, and co-ordination with the artillery in the infancy of battlefield radio communications was difficult. As we have heard, the shells failed to cut the wire in front of the German trenches, whose deep dugouts proved devastatingly effective.
General Douglas Haig would carry the can for the failure of the Somme to deliver the hoped-for decisive breakthrough, yet “the Chief”, as he was known, remained popular with his men. The reality is that the British were hard-pressed for experienced troops and matériel. Haig’s strained relationships with David Lloyd George meant that his reputation was tarnished, perhaps deliberately, as Lloyd George sought to insulate himself from blame for the Somme’s failure and the awful toll of dead and wounded. The two men observed an uneasy truce in the immediate aftermath of the armistice, and it was only after Haig’s death that Lloyd George launched his political assassination in his multi-volume war memoirs. He accused Haig of a lack of vision and flexibility, and blamed him for the “ghastly slaughter”. It was odd, though, that the Welsh wizard kept his counsel and did not depose Haig at the material time as the war raged.
None of that takes away from the huge sacrifice of British and empire troops throughout a war that spanned the globe. Perhaps the saddest aspect is that today we seem unable to answer the question of what it was all for. Ask the French. Ask the Belgians. They were invaded, and there is no whitewashing the atrocities committed against civilians by the Germans in 1914. The great war was then a war of liberation.
I leave the final word not to British generals, but to one American and one Prussian. William Sherman’s march to the sea in the American civil war saw him unleash total war on civilians. He said, “War is all hell, boys”, and, “you cannot refine it.” That is a truism echoing through human history, but what of the hellish Somme? General Erich Ludendorff, whose doctrine of an elastic, flexible defence cost us so very dear, said in his autobiography, “My War Memories”:
“As a result, we were completely exhausted on the Western Front”.
We paid a high price in blood and treasure, and while not a victory, the Somme did pave the way to ultimate triumph.
Jack Abbott (Ipswich) (Lab/Co-op)
I thank the hon. Member for South West Devon (Rebecca Smith) for bringing this debate to mark the 110th anniversary of the battle of the Somme coming to an end. That is 110 years since young men from Ipswich, Suffolk and communities across Britain bravely went into battle, facing extraordinary danger in the service of their country, but many never came home. More than a century has passed, but the sacrifice that they made and the loss suffered by their families must never be forgotten.
For many men, the Somme would be their final battle. Back home in Ipswich and Suffolk, families waited for their fathers, sons, brothers and husbands to come home; instead, they were left with the devastating news of their deaths and the knowledge that the lives they had imagined for them and with them would never be lived. They were soldiers who answered their country’s call with extraordinary courage, but they were also young men with hopes, ambitions and their whole lives ahead of them. For so many, their lives were cut tragically short on the fields of Europe. For the families left behind in Ipswich, the war did not end when the guns fell silent; it ended with a telegram through the door, an empty chair at the dinner table or a photograph of a loved one who would never come home.
More than 100 men from Ipswich lost their lives during the Somme offensive—more than 100 families in our town were left to live with a grief that no passage of time could ever fully erase—and I want to put some of their names on the record today. Private Harold Bailey was just 19 years old when he was killed—an age at which so many young people begin their adult lives, make plans and dream of their futures. Private William Attewell was 21. Private Vivian Bradley was 19. Private Walter Fiddaman was also 19. Those young men served in the Suffolk Regiment and came from our town and our county. They grew up on our streets and belonged to our communities, but they never came home.
On 3 January 1916, the 7th Battalion, Suffolk Regiment took part in a devastating attack on Ovillers. The battalion suffered 470 casualties, including all its company commanders. Among the Ipswich men lost were Benjamin Baker and Arthur Holmes. Just 12 days later, on 15 July 1916, the 4th Battalion suffered more than 200 casualties during the fighting around Bazentin Ridge and High Wood. Seventeen Ipswich men lost their lives that day. Among them were Samuel Jennings, aged 19, and Robert Lloyd, aged just 18—a young man who had a whole life ahead of him. More than 1 million men were killed over the four-month period that the fighting raged, but every single one of those deaths was a life extinguished and a family devastated.
This week, I joined hundreds of people in Ipswich to pay tribute at Christchurch Park and the fields of honour in Ipswich Old Cemetery. As the “Last Post” sounded and our town fell silent, I thought about the young men from Ipswich who had been killed on the battlefield.
Ipswich and Suffolk have a proud and enduring history of service to our country, from the Suffolk Regiment on the Somme to the radar pioneers at Bawdsey. Our town and our county have given so much to the defence of our nation, but remembrance is not simply about pride and honour, as crucial as they are; it is about grief. It is about recognising the terrible human cost of war and understanding that the freedoms we enjoy today were secured by people who paid such a heavy price that we can scarcely comprehend. They gave their tomorrow for our today, and we will remember them.
Sir Julian Lewis (New Forest East) (Con)
Over a century after the appalling losses on the western front, historians still debate whether any alternatives existed. Some blame political intrigue and poor generalship; others emphasise technology, with the battlefield dominated by interlocking fields of fire, which ensured that slowly advancing troops would be mown down by machine guns before making any worthwhile inroads into the enemy’s trenches. Minor advances that were occasionally achieved were usually reversed by counter-attacks or simply absorbed into a new, static confrontation a short distance from the original one.
We heard echoes of some of those controversies, with the pendulum ascribing guilt and responsibility swinging first one way, then another, in the very perceptive speech of my hon. Friend the Member for Dumfries and Galloway (John Cooper). I was first influenced by a work of fiction—a rather more in-depth work of fiction than the immensely entertaining television series to which he alluded. It was a book by a Sheffield journalist and writer called John Harris, entitled “Covenant with Death” and published in 1961.
In 1961, the people who had fought on the Somme were still living, and John Harris interviewed many of them. He says in the introduction to his great novel that although the characters are fictitious, the real people will recognise many of the incidents that he describes. The story is based on the Sheffield City Battalion. On 1 July 1916, the battalion sent 700 men over the top. The majority of them—nearly 500 men—became casualties, half of whom were killed, and only four of their officers survived the battle.
Dr Neil Shastri-Hurst (Solihull West and Shirley) (Con)
My right hon. Friend is giving an incredibly powerful speech. He is recognising quite properly those who were in teeth arms and running towards the ballistics and bullets coming at them, but will he also recognise the military medics? They were so important and often ran into danger, and they included Captain Noel Chavasse, who won not only the Military Cross and bar but the Victoria Cross in the Somme.
Sir Julian Lewis
Yes, indeed. I believe I am right in thinking that he won the VC twice overall—one of three people to do so—and I am delighted that my hon. and gallant Friend has put that on the record.
In more recent years, there has been a swing of the pendulum that has tried to justify the scale of loss on the Somme by saying that it was necessary for lessons to be learned for the ultimately successful campaigns of 1918. Some of the people who have put forward that proposition undoubtedly know more about the history of the first world war and its battles than I do, but I simply do not buy that. You should not have to waste the lives of tens of thousands of soldiers to learn lessons, some of which ought to have been obvious from the beginning.
One of those lessons was the need for surprise. Before 1 July 1916, there was a seven-day bombardment by British artillery on the Somme. Everybody knew what was going to happen and where it was going to happen. In 1918, at the start of the successful 100 days offensive—the phenomenal, brilliantly fought campaign that led to Germany suing for armistice in November 1918—everybody had secrecy impressed on them. Every officer and man had a passbook in which it was deemed essential that they must not say anything about what preparations were being made.
Similarly, when the Germans mounted their spring offensive in March 1918—which, for a while, looked as if it could have put Britain out of the war—one of the reasons it succeeded was that they too had an element of surprise. They had three alternative plans and decided on one of them, the Operation Michael attack, very much at the last minute before it was launched. You did not have to be a strategic genius to know that you needed an element of surprise in order to achieve tactical success. Similarly, the lessons of the Somme were not learned very quickly, because the same thing happened again in April 1918 with the second battle of Arras and, later in the year, with the third battle of Ypres, known as Passchendaele.
Let me conclude by quoting someone who was not an amateur historian: a man called Sholto Douglas, who later became Marshal of the Royal Air Force. He stated that, as he looked down from his aircraft at the field of Passchendaele in 1917, his mind was full of the sort of questions that many people have asked about the futility of the tactics. He said then, and I agree with him now, that those questions are very, very difficult to answer.
Dr Scott Arthur (Edinburgh South West) (Lab)
I thank the hon. Member for South West Devon (Rebecca Smith), both for securing this debate and for the way in which she introduced it.
In Edinburgh South West, we have the Heart of Midlothian memorial clock, something that defines Haymarket. If Members do not know, Heart of Midlothian is perhaps Scotland’s finest football team—or even the UK’s. [Laughter.] Sorry, I should not have laughed there. Every year, former Hearts players gather at the memorial clock alongside club staff, fans from across the city and local Gorgie residents to remember the incredible sacrifice that Hearts players and fans made on the frontline.
For those who are not familiar with the story, Hearts players led by example when Sir George McCrae, a popular Edinburgh figure and former MP—he was in this place between 1899 and 1909—announced that he would raise a battalion to fight in the war, the 16th (Service) Battalion of the Royal Scots. In November 1914, Hearts comfortably led the first division, having started the 1914-15 season with eight straight victories, including a thumping defeat of the reigning champions Celtic—even in a time-limited debate, I had to mention that. That streak coincided with the beginning of world war one and a debate about whether or not football should be taking place at all. Sixteen Hearts players signed up, along with players from Hibernian, Raith Rovers, Falkirk, Dunfermline Athletic, East Fife and St Bernard’s. McCrae’s was the first of the so-called footballers’ pals battalions to be raised during the war. Some 500 Hearts supporters and ticket holders enlisted, alongside 150 from Hibs, rugby players, cricketers, swimmers, hockey players, golfers and even a bodybuilder.
Then came the Somme. None could have expected that McCrae’s battalion would suffer 229 dead or missing on the first day, with a further 347 wounded. That was a small part of the tens of thousands who were killed or wounded on that first day, but the toll on Hearts and the wider Edinburgh community was immense. Many bodies were never recovered, including the remains of Harry Wattie, a Hearts striker and arguably the best inside forward in Scotland at the time.
John Cooper
The hon. Member is making a very eloquent speech about the sacrifice of Scottish football. Did he share my disappointment at the weekend when the two-minute silence at Celtic was interrupted after only 13 seconds?
Dr Arthur
I thank the hon. Member for that intervention. I heard that news from someone in this place who had also heard about it—somebody who does not live in Scotland—and I was absolutely ashamed to hear it.
The 16th Royal Scots made great inroads into the German line, more than any other British battalion, but that was little comfort to the families who lost their sons. The losses of McCrae’s battalion were a small but significant component of the 1 million casualties in the 141 days of that battle. When Hearts unveiled the memorial clock at Haymarket in 1922, a crowd of 65,000 people gathered to honour that remarkable sacrifice. They were told that the nation owed a debt of gratitude to Hearts that could never be repaid. At the weekend, I was proud to attend a service at the memorial clock alongside hundreds of other people. Many of them were Hearts supporters—Jambos—but many of them were people who just live locally and wanted to take part in an act of remembrance.
I was proud to be at that remembrance service, but I was even more proud to see pupils from Tynecastle high school, Balerno high school and George Watson’s college take part in it. A few days before, I attended another remembrance service at Firrhill high school in Edinburgh South West, which was entirely led by the young people there, apart from a small introduction by the headmaster. What is special about that school is that it is directly across the road from Redford infantry barracks. The young people who led the service read out the names of people who had died on that day, 6 November, during the first world war. All the names were of people who were 17, 18 or 19 years old, some of them perhaps even younger than the pupils who were reading out the names, and most of them just a few months or years older.
Taking part in that service and being so close to the barracks was a real reminder of the impact of war. We talk about conflict, perhaps within 1,000 days, but I would hate for any of those young people to have to take part in a war. It was a reminder to me that in this place, we should always focus on peace, not war.
Jim Shannon (Strangford) (DUP)
It is a privilege to rise in this House today to speak on behalf of the good, decent, salt-of-the-earth people of my constituency of Strangford, and indeed for the loyal people right across Northern Ireland.
When we look at the history of our Province, there is a golden thread of loyalty, duty and unyielding resolve that runs from the fields of France in 1916 right through to the present day. Over a century ago, when King and country called, the men of Ulster did not hesitate. They stepped forward in their thousands—from the shipyards of Belfast, the farms of the Ards peninsula and the towns and villages across Ulster—and on 1 July 1916, at the battle of the Somme, the 36th (Ulster) Division paid the ultimate price. They charged into the teeth of the German guns at Thiepval wood and the Schwaben redoubt. Over 5,000 men were killed, wounded or missing in the first 48 hours alone. They shed their blood so that tyranny would not prevail, and so that this United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland might remain free.
To truly understand the soul of Ulster, one does not need to read a history book; one only needs to walk through the towns and villages of the constituency of Strangford and look at the names carved into the stones of the war memorials. Every name tells a story of a young life laid down on the altar of freedom. Picture, as other Members have done, 1 July 1916 in the damp, chalky trenches of Thiepval wood. Imagine a young lad from Newtownards—let us call him Lance Corporal David John Thompson.
Dr Shastri-Hurst
The hon. Gentleman is giving a typically impassioned speech. Will he join me in reflecting on not just the service of those who fought in the Somme, but their families left at home, who were thinking of them at those most difficult of times?
Jim Shannon
I thank the hon. Gentleman for giving me that chance to gain some composure.
Picture Lance Corporal David John Thompson, serving proudly with the 13th Battalion, Royal Irish Rifles—the County Down volunteers. As the clock ticks towards half-past 7 in the morning and the deafening roar of the British artillery barrage shakes the very earth beneath their feet, young David’s mind is not in France; his heart is back home in County Down. He can almost smell the air drifting off Strangford lough—there is nothing quite like a breath of air from Strangford lough. He remembers the quiet mornings walking past Scrabo tower, which stands sentinel over the town; the warmth of his mother’s kitchen; and the familiar faces in Conway Square in Newtownards. He longs for the peace of home, for his Sunday morning service at First Ards Presbyterian church, and for the simple, honest life he left behind when he answered his King’s call.
Yet, as he looks down the trenches at the pale, mud-streaked faces of the young men under his command—fellas he grew up with in Newtownards, Comber and Donaghadee —fear gives way to duty. He knows that the whistle is about to blow. He knows that climbing over the parapet means walking into a storm of German machine gun fire. He has no desire to die in a foreign land, yet he is entirely prepared to do so. Why? Because Lance Corporal David John Thompson understands that the freedom of his family back in Newtownards, the preservation of the British way of life and the defeat of tyranny are worth a great price. He is willing, along with others, to pay that price for that which he honours more than his own life.
So, when that shrill whistle blows, 19-year-old Lance Corporal Thompson does not hesitate. With his Lee-Enfield rifle gripped tight, standing beside his brothers in arms with Orange sashes beneath many of their tunics, he climbs into no man’s land, shouting over the din to rally his boys forward. He leads them across the cratered earth towards the Schwaben redoubt, not out of hatred for the men in front of him but out of an unshakeable love for the home and the country he has left behind. He pays the ultimate price at 19 years of age. That is the calibre of the men of Ulster: young men who loved their homes fiercely, yet loved their duty and their freedom even more.
Captain Wilfrid Spender said:
“I am not an Ulsterman, but yesterday, the 1st July, as I followed their amazing attack, I felt that I would rather be an Ulsterman than anything else in the world. My pen cannot describe adequately the hundreds of heroic acts I witnessed. The Ulster Volunteer Force, from which the Division was made, has won a name that equals any in history. Their devotion deserves the gratitude of the British empire.”
What lovely words from a man who witnessed that attack of the 36th (Ulster) Division.
The blood of those who fell at the Somme runs through the very veins of the people I represent. We carry their legacy with pride and their resolve in our hearts. Come what may, the people of Ulster will continue to stand unbowed and unbroken for freedom, for the rule of law, for our Christian faith and for God, and for this precious United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. For us, “We will remember them,” is not just a phrase; it is always our promise.
Michelle Scrogham (Barrow and Furness) (Lab)
It is a real honour to follow the moving speech of the hon. Member for Strangford (Jim Shannon).
It is a privilege to speak in the debate marking the 110th anniversary of the battle of the Somme. As is the case for many hon. Members in the Chamber, the impacts of the first world war are still felt in my constituency generations later. It is with a sense of sorrow and pride that we see family members’ names on those war memorials. We promise to remember them and their sacrifice and never to allow such a tragedy to happen again. The scale of the lives lost at the Somme is larger than most of us can comprehend. We commend the strength and bravery of those who sacrificed their futures to protect our country and honour them by marking the anniversary of this battle.
For my constituency, this anniversary has a special significance, because the town of Ulverston is twinned with Albert, a town at the heart of the Somme in France. The relationship between the two towns stretches back decades and has been built on friendship, exchange and a shared commitment to remembering those affected by the war. Every year, people from Ulverston travel to Albert, and residents of Albert often visit Ulverston, not simply to commemorate but to strengthen the ties between our two communities. What began with remembrance has grown into genuine friendship.
One of the most remarkable links between our towns was the discovery of the Ulverston trench near Albert. During research into the battlefields, an historical trench map was found showing a trench bearing the name of Ulverston. A memorial now stands there, serving as a lasting reminder of the connection between our community and the Somme. I am immensely proud that that site, once associated with conflict, has become somewhere people can come together in remembrance.
More than a century on, British, German and French people come together as friends, determined to ensure that the sacrifices of the past are not forgotten. The twinning of Ulverston and Albert shows how remembrance can bring people together and how communities can build lasting bonds, even from the darkest chapters of our shared history.
I will take the opportunity to commend our brave service personnel currently deployed around the world. We are grateful for the service and sacrifice that they and their families make on behalf of this country. The Government recognise that our duty to those who serve does not end when they leave the armed forces. That is why we are working to strengthen support for our veterans through better access to housing, healthcare, employment and welfare services.
I particularly welcome the roll-out of the Valour programme in Cumbria, which will help create a more joined-up and accessible network of support for veterans and their families. My fellow Cumbrian Labour MPs and I have been campaigning for stronger, locally delivered veterans’ services, so it is encouraging to see the commitment backed with investment and action. Programmes such as Valour recognise that many veterans face challenges long after their service has ended and that support should be easy to access. As we remember those who served at the Somme and in conflicts throughout our history, it is right that we also reaffirm our commitment to the men and women who serve today and to the veterans who continue to make such a valuable contribution to communities across our country.
I want to commend my former school, Ulverston Victoria high school, which has done incredible work over the years not only by commemorating the war through remembrance services, but by bringing together the lives of all those we lost in Ulverston—all those young boys and men who went to war—and looking at their backgrounds, their histories and where they worked before they joined the Army. Just for one moment, over the couple of weeks before Remembrance Day, it brings the lives of those young men back together in a way that the students at the school can understand. I pass on my thanks to the school for all the work it does on that.
Several hon. Members rose—
Madam Deputy Speaker (Caroline Nokes)
Order. Unfortunately, we have to go down to a four-minute time limit.
Amanda Hack (North West Leicestershire) (Lab)
I pay tribute to the hundreds of thousands of soldiers who lost their lives during the battle of the Somme, one of the deadliest battles ever fought. I thank the hon. Member for South West Devon (Rebecca Smith) for her opening remarks, and the Members who have spoken before me.
On Sunday I attended the service of remembrance and reconciliation at Christ church in Coalville. The most poignant part was when I heard the roll call of the people from the community who paid the ultimate price. It was moving to see the Elizabeth Tower lit up over the weekend to commemorate the 110th anniversary of the battle of the Somme, and to share five personal stories from across the country. Thanks must go to Mr Speaker, alongside the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, which organised it. Mr Speaker said:
“Seeing the faces of these brave people from the Somme on the most iconic landmarks in the country is incredibly moving—faces of ordinary folk who had a future, only for it to be cut short by war.”
One of those folk was Esmée—Barbara Esmée St John— who was from my constituency. Esmée was born in Ashby and volunteered with the Red Cross during the first world war, serving in the No. 26 General Hospital at Etaples, on the French channel coast, which made up the largest centre for medical care of British and Commonwealth service personnel on the western front. Following the opening of the battle of the Somme, Esmée managed a 35-bed surgical ward, working 13-hour days with only a young orderly, just 17 years old, to assist her.
Only a few months later, Esmée tragically caught scarlet fever and died from complications. She was buried with full military honours at the Wimereux communal cemetery. Sadly, the infectious nature of her illness meant that her burial could not be delayed for her family to attend, as was the case for so many. In 1918, Esmée’s father supplied her photograph to the Imperial War Museum, expressing pride that she would be among the brave women and hard workers who will never be forgotten. Esmée’s story is just one of the many examples of the brave women who worked tirelessly and courageously to help soldiers on the frontline, and I am pleased that her vital contribution was recognised.
As North West Leicestershire is home to a rich mining heritage, I also want to talk about the role that miners played in the battle. I read a 2016 article from Mining Magazine about tunnelling companies, which were specialist units in the British Army that were formed to dig under enemy lines. Among them were the “Famous Fifty”—specially selected volunteers from the Coalville area of Leicestershire who went to fight on the western front in 1914. They marched from St John the Baptist church in Hugglescote to the train station in Coalville, with thousands of people cheering them on. Because of their mining background, many of the men became tunnellers, but only 22 of them ever returned. Miners had a particularly useful skillset in the battle of the Somme, because the harder chalk formations under the ground were more suited to their expertise. The volunteers were exceptionally brave and typically worked in spaces that were about 60 cm wide and just over 1 metre high, with the constant risk of the tunnel collapsing.
At the start of the battle of the Somme, two separate tunnels were painstakingly dug, with 900 men working on each. They packed 40,000 lbs of explosives in one and 60,000 lbs in the other, with the blast intended to rip through the ground creating a 450-foot-wide crater. However, German soldiers had detected the tunnelling. The blast was so powerful that the German soldiers were killed, but as the British infantry flowed over the top, they were massacred by German machine guns.
With honour, I dedicate my speech to the miners and women who were at the battle of the Somme, whom we will never forget and who, alongside our brave military personnel, paid the ultimate price.
Ms Julie Minns (Carlisle) (Lab)
I thank the hon. Member for South West Devon (Rebecca Smith) for bringing forward this debate, and for her work on behalf of the all-party parliamentary group for the Commonwealth War Graves Commission and commemoration.
The Somme carries particular significance for north Cumbria because of the Lonsdale Pals, formerly the 11th Battalion of the Border Regiment. Raised by the 5th Earl of Lonsdale shortly after the outbreak of war, it was one of the earliest pals battalions authorised by the War Office. Men from Carlisle, Penrith, Workington, Whitehaven, Kendal and communities across Cumberland and Westmorland enlisted together. They were neighbours, workmates, fellow parishioners, but they trained together and went to war together. That bond gave the battalion a powerful identity, but it also meant that, when casualties came, entire communities shared the loss. It was my privilege to lay the wreath at the county memorial last weekend on behalf of all Cumbria’s MPs, who represent the former counties of Cumberland and Westmorland.
On the opening day, the 11th Battalion attacked the Leipzig salient near Thiepval and suffered devastating casualties. Among those killed was Corporal Stephen Putland, who was born and lived in Carlisle. His name is recorded on the Upperby war memorial in Carlisle and on the Thiepval memorial to the missing. He was not the only man to be lost that day. John McDivitt, John Nevin, James Jardine Wilson and Company Sergeant Major John Sewell were also lost. On the battle’s final day, further tragedy struck the pals. The battalion attacked German positions at Redan ridge, and among those killed was Colour Sergeant Major Robert Lorimer. His body was never recovered, and his name, too, is commemorated at Thiepval.
Another man whose story is particularly personal to me is Harry Wilfred Lowthian, who served with the Lonsdale Pals during the Somme. My research suggests he would have been a distant relative of mine, and also the brother or nephew of Ernest Lowthian, Labour’s first candidate for the parliamentary seat of Carlisle.
Earlier this year, I had the privilege of visiting France and Belgium with the Commonwealth War Graves Commission. I visited Thiepval and several other sites, including Serre Road cemetery No. 2, which deserves a particular mention. It is the largest cemetery on the Somme battlefields, and standing among its rows of headstones is a powerful reminder of the immense loss in that battle. The visit also gave me a much deeper appreciation of the work of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, which cares for 1.7 million Commonwealth service personnel—not their graves, but the personnel—who died in battle. It maintains graves, cemeteries and memorials at more than 23,000 locations in over 150 countries.
I was particularly struck by the work of the commission’s recovery unit in recovering and identifying those still being discovered on battlefields today, more than a century later. The team carefully excavate, record remains, examine personal possessions and match them with military records, battalion diaries and wartime maps. Matching that with DNA can often establish the soldier’s identity over 100 years later. It is painstaking but vital work.
As we mark 110 years since the Somme, we remember Corporal Stephen Putland, Robert Lorimer, Harry Wilfred Lowthian and the men of the Lonsdale Pals. We remember all those from across Cumbria, across the United Kingdom and throughout the Commonwealth, and our allies, who served and sacrificed. Their names live on in memorials and family histories, and through the work of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission. It is our duty to ensure that their stories continue to be told and that their sacrifice is never diminished by the passage of time.
Samantha Niblett (South Derbyshire) (Lab)
I thank the hon. Member for South West Devon (Rebecca Smith) for giving us this opportunity to speak on behalf of our constituents, past and present. I am honoured to speak on behalf of the people of South Derbyshire and to remember those who gave so much.
I am particularly moved by the story of brothers Henry and William Barnett, both of whom died on the first day of the battle of the Somme. Their parents were William and Geraldine Barnett of 37 Market Street in Swadlincote. William, the younger brother, who was a shop assistant, was the first to join up. He enlisted in Church Gresley, and by 25 June 1915 was in France. Henry, who was a sink maker, enlisted on 26 March 1915, and when he was posted to France in December 1915 the two brothers were reunited on the western front. Both served as privates in the first line of the 5th Battalion of the Sherwood Foresters, and they were both killed during an attack on the German positions at Gommecourt. They are commemorated alongside one another on the memorial to the missing at Thiepval.
In May, I was invited by Shelly Lynn and Joanne Abbassi, two volunteers for the charity In From the Cold Project, to visit the Commonwealth War Graves Commission site in Church Gresley in my constituency. The In From The Cold Project was formed more than 20 years ago to research and identify all servicemen and servicewomen missing from the official Commonwealth War Graves Commission list of casualties from the first and second world wars. Their task is to get these soldiers, sailors and airmen their due recognition, even after the passing of so many years.
I was moved by the dedication and diligence of the volunteers in ensuring that all the fallen have a marked Commonwealth war grave, but a passing comment about council charges that are paid out of the volunteers’ own pockets sent me and my team off into a conversation with the Local Government Association to see whether we could seek agreement from local authorities to waive the fees in these special circumstances. I want to give special recognition and a shout-out to Antony Cobley, in my team, who helped make that happen. I am pleased to share with the House that an agreement was reached with the LGA and its new guidance is that fees should be waived across England. Council Matt Boughton, who is chair of the LGA’s safer and stronger communities committee, said:
“Preserving the links between local communities and those who served and died in conflict is an important part of ensuring future generations continue to understand and remember their sacrifice. While often modest, charges for record searches can present an additional barrier to organisations trying to identify the final resting places of service personnel. Lifting these charges where they relate to service personnel, which many councils have already done, is a good way to help ensure those who lost their lives in service receive the recognition and commemoration they deserve.”
We will never know where so many servicemen and servicewomen from the Somme, world war one, world war two and subsequent wars rest, but all parties are committed to working to ensure that as many unmarked graves are now marked so that we can commemorate those lost for so long. We will remember them.
Adam Thompson (Erewash) (Lab)
On the first day of the battle of the Somme, 1 July 1916, 19,240 British men lost their lives. It was the single bloodiest day in the history of the British Army. The Sherwood Foresters, some 2,000 men from across Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire, started the battle with an assault on Gommecourt. I have been able to identify at least 12 names of young men from across Ilkeston, Long Eaton and Sandiacre, who were killed on that first day alone. The eldest, James Mann, was 41. He worked in the lace industry and left behind his wife Flora and their five children. The youngest man who was killed, Arthur Robinson, had only just turned 20. He lived with his sister and her family at 105 Bennett Street in Long Eaton.
Looking over these lists, it was seeing exactly where they lived that struck me the most. The first world war was so long ago now, it is almost a different world. The numbers of dead and wounded at the Somme alone are so large as to be incomprehensible, squeezing from view the individual, human stories that were lived by each and every one of the people who were there, but the thing about knowing which house Arthur lived in is that that house is still there. I have knocked on that door. I have delivered leaflets through it. Twenty-year-old Arthur Robinson knew the streets that I know. He lived across the road from my mates Howard and Margaret. Long Eaton has changed a lot, certainly, in the more than a century that has gone by since he gave his life, but it is still the same place. I get similar feelings when I look at the list of young men killed from Ilkeston. I see Naylors and Beardsleys and Mees, local surnames that I still see regularly everywhere, from my Facebook comments to our council ballot papers.
It should not be a surprise that this information exists and is there to be found. Despite the first world war having ended so long ago, we make a vow every November that we will remember them and we hold true to that vow. The two world wars draw further into history all the time, but I think our remembrance events in Ilkeston, Long Eaton and the surrounding villages are better attended every year. In Draycott, the homes of soldiers who died in the first world war are marked with their own small, individual memorials on each doorstep, reminding us of the time that our world was their world. They were sent off from terraced streets in Derbyshire to the fields of France and Belgium, where they endured the most unbelievable hardships; suffering so great that the very least we can do now is remember them.
There is plenty of history written about grand acts of strategic brilliance or incompetence, depending on one’s opinion—about noble generals and the aristocrats and industrialists who dominated this place at that time, and the balance of power between the great empires fighting over who got to have the biggest navy or which African colony they got to control—but that is not why people piled into Ilkeston and Long Eaton town centres on Sunday. What we pledge to remember are the hundreds of thousands of working-class men, so many of them so young, who were sent abroad to fight in those great wars. We should remember who they were: their names, what families they came from, where they lived and where they worked. We should remember them not just for dying but for living—for being the people that they were. We should remember that for as long as we can, no matter how long ago it was. If we remember them like that, then the history stops being faraway and abstract; it stays real in our hearts and minds and helps us prevent such tragedies from ever occurring again.
Jayne Kirkham (Truro and Falmouth) (Lab/Co-op)
I want to talk about the Cornish men and women who were in the Somme and involved in the first world war. There were 6,300 deaths of people from Cornwall in world war one. Many of them signed up to the Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry. There were a number of battalions from Cornwall that fought in the Somme, and the 63rd (Royal Naval) Division fought in the latter stages of the war as well. There was an article in the Royal Cornwall Gazette on 26 October 1916, which was an account sent by someone from the front, who said that they were mocked by the Germans because they knew where they were from; the Germans asked them if they had any Cornish pasties. Even over there, the Cornish were known and recognised.
I thank my hon. Friend the Member for North West Leicestershire (Amanda Hack) for talking about the tunnellers. They were coalminers where my hon. Friend is from, but those from Cornwall were tin miners. The Royal Engineer tunnelling companies worked in silence so that they were not heard; they could hear the Germans above them, apparently sometimes talking about how long it was since they had held their wives—they were that close. On the first day of the Somme, 19 charges were detonated under German frontlines, many of those tunnels having been built by the miners from my constituency and my hon. Friend’s.
The saddest thing is that many of those who managed to survive the Somme and the first world war came back to Cornwall and carried on working in the mines, and only a year later, on 20 October 1919, five of them were killed in the Levant mining disaster, in which 31 people died when the mine collapsed. It is a terrible sadness.
I know some of those stories because last week I saw the historians of Penair school, who have won the Western Front Association Malcolm Doolin local history prize for bringing the stories to life in a magical way. They used AI to make films about some of the people who fought in the Somme and the first world war—tunnellers from Cornwall—and said they had become very close to the men because many of them were only a year or two older than they are now. The way they brought them to life was magical. I am proud of the historians from Penair. They have been here for the past couple of days; they went to the ceremony at the Cenotaph yesterday and paraded there.
I am contributing to this debate simply to remember the men of Cornwall who died in the Somme, of whom there were many, and to give our great thanks for all that they did and all that they gave.
Chris Vince (Harlow) (Lab/Co-op)
I thank the hon. Member for South West Devon (Rebecca Smith) for securing this debate and for her powerful opening speech. I join her in thanking all those Members of this House, along with House staff, who gave their lives for our freedom in the battle of the Somme and in the entirety of the first and second world wars.
One of the great things about speaking last is having the opportunity to reflect on what has already been said in the debate. It is telling that we are talking about events that happened 110 years ago, yet the emotion from those who have spoken has been raw, real and clear to see. That highlights the enormity of the battle and of the sacrifice made by those men who lost their lives.
My interest in this topic was first awakened when I visited the war graves in France—like many—with my parents when I was younger. Like the hon. Member for South West Devon, I was struck by the graves that did not have names—the unknown soldier—and by the graves, quite concerningly, that had more than one soldier in them. That was incredibly powerful.
I apologise, Madam Deputy Speaker; I have got my information from trusted sources, but my numbers might be slightly wrong. In stark contrast to the constituency of my hon. Friend the Member for Erewash (Adam Thompson), Harlow in 1916 was, it is fair to say, a very different place from today. In fact, my constituency was a collection of villages under the banner of Epping. Members will all know who the Member of Parliament for Epping was during the second world war.
According to the information I have from a trusted source, 13 men from Harlow were killed in the battle of the Somme, with two killed on the first day—two of the 19,240 British soldiers killed on that first day. However, looking at all the villages that have since combined to become Harlow, I suspect that the numbers were greater. Among those who died, some of whom were from Potter Street, were Private Walter Wheeler of the Essex Regiment, Private Thomas W. J. Baldock of the East Surrey Regiment and Private Henry Ayton.
I want to focus specifically on one soldier who died in the battle of the Somme. Eight years ago, to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the end of the first world war, Your Harlow, our local online newspaper, brought together local councillors and community champions to read out the stories of the individuals who had lost their life in the first world war. I am running short of time, but I just want to mention Thomas Lewis, who was born in Great Parndon in 1895. He was one of 10 children, one of whom died at birth.
Private Lewis enlisted at Warley and joined the 1st Battalion of the Bedfordshire Regiment. His regiment was involved in the battle of the Somme, specifically the attack on High Wood on 20 August 1916 and the capture of Falfemont farm between 3 and 6 September 1916. Thomas died of his wounds on 13 September at the age of 21.
I want to quickly thank the Harlow branch of the Royal British Legion for the commemorative service that it held over the weekend. It was particularly poignant to hear the names of Thomas, Cyril and Francis Riley—three brothers who died in the first world war. We will remember them.
I apologise for going over time, Madam Deputy Speaker.
Madam Deputy Speaker (Caroline Nokes)
Which brings us to the Front-Bench contributions. I call the Liberal Democrat spokesperson.
Monica Harding (Esher and Walton) (LD)
I thank the hon. Member for South West Devon (Rebecca Smith) for introducing this debate, for her work on the Commonwealth War Graves Commission and for her powerful speech. Of course, we have heard powerful speeches and testimonies from all Members today. The significance of today’s debate on the 110th anniversary of the battle of the Somme is something on which Members from across this House can agree. It is an opportunity to remember, to honour and to commemorate those who fought, suffered and gave their lives in the service of this country and in defence of the freedoms that we enjoy today.
The battle of the Somme was not simply a battle fought in a distant field in northern France; it was a moment that reached into every town, every village and every family across our country, changing lives forever. Communities across my constituency felt that loss as keenly as anywhere else. It was one of the largest and deadliest battles of the first world war. More than 1 million soldiers were killed or wounded during the campaign, and the first day remains the bloodiest day in British military history. Despite taking place more than a century ago, the Somme retains a powerful place in our national memory, symbolising not only the terrible human cost of war and the loss of so many young lives, but the extraordinary courage of ordinary men.
Across the country stand memorials to those who served and those who never came home. In my constituency, memorials stand in Walton-on-Thames, Thames Ditton, Long Ditton, Esher, Claygate, Hersham, East Molesey, West Molesey and Oatlands. The names engraved on those memorials are more than inscriptions on stone—they were sons, brothers, husbands, workmates and neighbours. Each name represents a life cut short, a family left to grieve, and a community forever changed.
This history is woven deeply into the history of my constituency. At Hare Hill in Walton-on-Thames stood the Australian auxiliary hospital, where thousands of wounded Australian and New Zealand soldiers were treated during the war. Walton-on-Thames became a place of recovery, rehabilitation and refuge, forging lasting links between our community and the Anzac story that endure to this day. Hurst Park played an important role in the war effort, as troops assembled and trained before deployment overseas. The roads, parks and open spaces of my constituency became part of a national effort that touched every aspect of local life.
The East Surrey Regiment played its own role in the Somme campaign. On the opening day of the battle, Captain Wilfred Percy Nevill encouraged his men to kick footballs across no man’s land as they advanced towards the German lines as a way to boost morale and remind the soldiers of home. It is an important reminder that these men were ordinary people from communities like ours, whose courage, comradeship and resilience carried them through. We should never lose sight of the individual lives behind the figures. That is why commemoration matters.
On Remembrance Sunday, I had the pleasure of visiting the Molesey Royal British Legion, and I shared a glass of port with the veterans from the Royal Artillery. Paul Morriss, the secretary and treasurer to the committee, and I spoke for a while about the remarkable work of Richard Dunning, who is the founder of the Lochnagar Crater Foundation. He is a Surrey man who in the 1970s purchased the Lochnagar crater—one of the most significant surviving sites of the Somme battlefield. He visited Lochnagar in the early 1970s, spoke of a feeling of profound connection to the site and determined that it should be protected. He acquired the crater and dedicated himself to preserving it as a permanent memorial.
Today it ensures that future generations understand not only what happened on those battlefields, but why it matters. I am pleased that my son, who is in year 9, visited the Lochnagar crater this year, as so many schoolchildren across the country do. I pay tribute to my local schools, teachers and all educators who pass those stories on, and to those who tend and protect these historic sites so that we may remember. The stories shared with me remind us that remembrance is not a passive act but that it requires active stewardship, education and commitment.
Anniversaries such as this are also a chance to consider our responsibilities today. If we are sincere in honouring those who served, that sincerity must extend to how we treat those who serve our country today. Veterans are too often being let down. It is a scandal that those who put their lives on the line in defence of our liberty and democracy still find themselves falling through gaps in support. We have long argued that those who serve our country deserve a fair deal. That means improving military housing, strengthening support and compensation for service personnel, and ensuring that veterans are never taken for granted.
We must do more to support veterans’ mental health. Too many former servicemen and women continue to live with the consequences of their experience, often in silence. Access to mental health services should be timely, effective and available when needed. Just as importantly, we must continue to challenge the stigma that prevents people from seeking help in the first place. Supporting our veterans is not charity; it is a responsibility.
Before I conclude, I would like to add two remarks about the lessons that we must take from any discussion about what happened 110 years ago. First, as we reflect on the tragedy of young lives lost, families torn apart and communities hollowed out, it is a reminder of the importance of the work we do to stop conflict and violence around the world today, so that families now do not face the same heartbreak. In an increasingly insecure world, let us remember that cost and commit ourselves to the pursuit of peace and the prevention of conflict, while being clear-eyed about the threats and dangers present.
The Somme marked a technological breakthrough. It was the first time the British deployed tanks in battle, and it saw the emergence of large-scale aerial operations. These would become familiar features in warfare over the next century. Today we stand at another cusp of technological revolution in warfare. We must all reflect on what is needed now to address not only the challenges we presently face but the new challenges that these technologies will bring.
As we mark the 110th anniversary of the battle of the Somme, let us remember not only the scale of the battle but the people behind it. Let us remember, too, the contribution of the wider Commonwealth. Their contribution was immense, yet too often their stories have been under-represented in our commemorations and historical memory. If we are to tell the story of the Somme honestly and completely, we must ensure that their sacrifice is recognised fully and woven into our national memory.
Let us remember the wounded Anzac troops who found recovery and refuge in Walton-on-Thames. Let us remember the men who marched from places such as Hurst Park. Let us remember those who kicked footballs across the battlefield. One hundred and ten years later, the voices of that generation are gone, but the duty to remember them is ours. As long as their names remain carved in stone, as long as their stories remain in our communities and as long as this nation values the freedoms for which they sacrificed so much, they will not be forgotten. We honour them today, we thank them and we will remember them always.
Mr Mark Francois (Rayleigh and Wickford) (Con)
It is an honour to sum up this debate on the day after Armistice Day, although it is a genuine shame that, yet again, no Reform MP has chosen to take part, especially as some of them regard themselves as authorities on world war one. Fortunately, my hon. Friend the Member for South West Devon (Rebecca Smith) was here, and she clearly really knows what she is talking about.
The battle of the Somme took place between 1 July and 18 November 1916, during which both sides between them suffered over 1 million casualties. Of that total, over 400,000 were British and Commonwealth troops, including over 130,000 who were killed. The strategy for an Anglo-French offensive had been agreed between the respective commanders, Lord Haig and General Joffre, at the Chantilly staff conference some months previously. However, when the attack was launched in July, it was a costly failure.
In the 110 years that have passed since, a great deal has been written about what happened. However, the fundamental reason for the failure of the Somme offensive, especially in the British sector, was the highly over-optimistic assumptions about the effect of artillery on prepared defensive positions that had been skilfully chosen by German generals and engineers months previously. As John Keegan, in his authoritative history of the first world war, summed it up, the Germans
“had driven dugouts thirty feet below ground, impervious to artillery fire, provisioned to withstand siege and linked to the rear by buried telephone cable and deep communication trenches….They had made themselves secure.”
Moreover, the German defenders regularly rehearsed dashing up from their well-protected dugouts to man their defensive positions and, crucially, setting up their machine guns with carefully calibrated interlocking fields of fire in rapid time. It was a feat that the allied planners thought impossible, as they believed that all such positions, including dense belts of barbed wire, would effectively have been destroyed by a massive preliminary bombardment —one that also effectively surrendered any element of strategic or even operational surprise. Even worse, many of the shells failed to explode.
For many men, the Somme was their first experience of combat, and their last. The 19 or so British divisions that took part in the initial assault were a mixture of old soldiers and new. Four divisions—the 4th, 7th, 8th and 29th—comprised largely veterans, including men who had survived the original battles as part of the British Expeditionary Force in 1914, or had served at Gallipoli. As a former Territorial Army infantry officer myself, I should also point out that four more—the 46th, 48th, 49th and 56th—were territorial divisions, whereas the bulk of the remaining 11 divisions largely comprised idealistic civilian volunteers who answered the famous call from the Secretary of State for War, Field Marshal Lord Kitchener: “Your Country Needs You”. Many of those men comprised Kitchener’s army and volunteered to fight alongside their fellow workmates or townsfolk in the so-called Pals battalions, enticed into the recruiting office by the promise that those who joined together would serve together.
On 24 June, British artillery commenced a seven-day bombardment of the German defences, utilising around 1,000 field guns and almost 500 heavy artillery pieces. During that preparatory barrage, approximately 1.5 million shells were fired and confidence was high among British commanders, with General Sir Henry Rawlinson reportedly stating:
“nothing could exist at the conclusion of the bombardment in the area covered by it.”
Tragically, he was wrong.
Ms Minns
I will be brief. As the right hon. Member mentioned the shells, I want to put on the record our gratitude for the many women back home who made those shells—the Canary Girls—in highly dangerous work and whose skin became discoloured as a result. Does he back my campaign for those women to have a memorial at the royal arboretum?
Mr Francois
Without hesitation.
Captain Siegfried Sassoon MC, one of the famous war poets, wrote in his diary on 1 July 1916:
“We had breakfast at 6.—the morning is brilliantly fine—after a mist early. Since 6:30 there has been hell let loose. The air vibrates with the incessant din—the whole earth shakes & rocks & throbs—It is one continuous roar—Machine guns tap & rattle—bullets whistling over head—small fry quite outdone by the gangs of hooligan shells, that dash over to rend the German line”.
On a personal note, as a student on the King’s College London MA war studies course studying the first world war, I went on a departmental tour to the Somme battlefield in 1987. I was then aged 22. We were awakened early in the morning, given a hot breakfast, taken out to the site of the then British frontline, given a tot of rum and then listened as whistles were blown at H-hour at 0730. It was exactly as it was intended to be: a deeply affecting experience and one that I will never forget.
Given the relative inexperience of around half the assaulting divisions, British tactical instructions placed considerable emphasis on troops advancing steadily in line so as to maintain order and discipline. Troops were generally ordered to walk and not run on the assumption that the defenders would either have likely been killed, or so stunned as to be incapable of offering effective resistance. However, in the southern part of the British sector, some British officers who were sceptical of their artillery’s ability to suppress the German defenders ordered their troops to lie out in the open just prior to the assault, and then rush the German lines as soon as the barrage had lifted. Some of these units achieved at least local tactical surprise in reaching their initial objectives before the well-drilled German infantry could react in time. Sadly, however, that was the exception rather than the rule.
In the majority of cases, the German defenders, exactly as they had rehearsed many times, won
“the race to the parapet”
and then rained down a literally murderous fire on the slowly advancing British infantry, who had been assured by their senior commanders that what they were about to experience could not happen. Even among those units who made it to the German lines, they frequently discovered the wire still uncut while being raked by multiple machine guns, still stuck in no man’s land.
The eventual outcome in terms of loss of life was catastrophic. On the first day alone, over 19,000 British and Commonwealth soldiers were killed and a further 38,000 became casualties in what to this day represents the single bloodiest day in the history of the British Army. By that evening, some battalions, in particular the inexperienced pals battalions, had effectively ceased to exist.
Despite the failure of the initial assault, British commanders pressed on over the next several months, resulting in a number of heroic actions, such as the Australians at Pozières and the South Africans at Delville—or Devil’s—Wood. Nevertheless, by the time the offensive was finally abandoned on 18 November, the maximum limit of the advance was some seven miles, for which the British Army alone had lost some 130,000 British and Commonwealth soldiers killed and more than twice as many wounded. In total, including combatants on all sides, over 1 million men were either killed, wounded, taken prisoner or went missing over the course of the battle, which lasted a total of 141 days. One of those wounded on the German side was a Bavarian corporal named Adolf Hitler.
Men of all ages bravely fought and died, in many cases literally side by side, during the Somme. The oldest confirmed British fatality was Lieutenant Henry Webber of the 7th Battalion, South Lancashire Regiment, who was 67 when he was killed on 21 July. Members of this House and the other place also lost their lives, as did Lieutenant Raymond Asquith, son of the Prime Minister Herbert Asquith, who was killed in action on 15 September. In contrast, the youngest British soldier to perish was Private Horace Iles of the 15th Battalion the West Yorkshire Regiment, the Leeds Pals, who fell on the first day, aged just 16, having initially lied about his age at the recruiting office months before.
However, before concluding, it would be wrong to leave the impression that the whole of the first world war was as operationally unsuccessful as the battle of the Somme. In March 1918, the British Army, with their “backs to the wall”, withstood the Kaiser’s offensive and eventually launched a highly successful counter-attack using the principle of combined arms—tanks, artillery, infantry and, to some extent, nascent air power, all working in unison—to effectively break the back of the German army in the field by the autumn and force the eventual German surrender in November. The great difference was that by mid-1918, British generals had learnt through brutal experience how to combine the various weapons of war for maximum offensive effect to achieve operational and, ultimately, strategic success, rather than being over-reliant on one arm—artillery—to the great detriment of another: the humble infantry. That was, literally, the fatal error of the Somme.
Those who fought at the Somme, as elsewhere in world war one, laid down their lives for a greater cause: for the many freedoms we now enjoy. They, indeed, gave their today for our tomorrow, and we in this House and across the nation should never take their supreme sacrifice for granted, nor will we. Lest we forget.
The Minister for Veterans and People (Mr Calvin Bailey)
It is a great privilege to follow the right hon. Member for Rayleigh and Wickford (Mr Francois). He routinely reminds us of the absence of certain Members of Parliament in such debates. It reminds me that it is serious parties and a serious Parliament that present a united point of view on matters such as this, and it is not Governments alone that fix or address our security, but Parliaments. We must come together in our resolve to ensure that we pay these matters respect when they are brought to the House.
I am grateful to the hon. Member for South West Devon (Rebecca Smith) for securing this very important debate at a very important time, and to all Members for their worthy contributions. The hon. Member for South West Devon captured not only the colossal scale of the loss but the extent to which it covered her constituency and all our constituencies, right here to the doors of Parliament. I am very grateful for her work for the Commonwealth War Graves Commission. I reflected that perhaps the Devonshires did not just hold ground; they also held her heart.
As I prepared for this speech, I was struck by the extent to which every community was touched by this battle, which was a seminal battle in the first world war but also a seminal moment in our nation’s psyche. As I stood in front of the Cenotaph yesterday, it felt as though the whole nation had joined us in silence, reflecting and remembering. That, for me, is what remembrance is about: unity. They came from every nation in our Union, every village and town in every region, forming something like 50 divisions. Every soldier fought, many giving their lives.
I was incredibly touched by the stories of the Pals. In Leyton, 41 players, staff and supporters from my beloved Leyton Orient—known then as Clapton Orient—led by the club captain Fred “Spider” Parker were enlisted as the 17th (Service) Battalion. Many of them never came home, including three sons of Leyton: Richard McFadden, William Jonas and George Scott. It was incredibly powerful to create a bridge and a link with my hon. Friend the Member for Edinburgh South West (Dr Arthur), who spoke about the 16th (Service) Battalion, and my hon. Friend the Member for Carlisle (Ms Minns), who spoke lovingly about the Lonsdale Pals, reminding us of the proximity of our people who gave so valiantly in this campaign.
But Britain did not fight alone. We are the great convener. We are the home of democracy, and at moments like this, our friends came to our aid. Some tens of thousands of Commonwealth soldiers are buried in military and civilian cemeteries. In Thiepval, the Memorial to the Missing of the Somme bears the names of 72,000 British and South African men who died at the Somme and have no grave. It was incredibly powerful when I heard those stories in the speeches by the hon. Member for Esher and Walton (Monica Harding), and my hon. Friend and colleague the Member for Ilford South (Jas Athwal). They spoke about the contributions of all those nations, and reminded us that courage has no religion and sacrifice has no colour. The Commonwealth Air Forces memorial is a poignant reminder of that sacrifice, because those who came to fight alongside us from the Commonwealth, from places like Africa, from where I came, were Christians, Muslims, Jews, Hindus, Sikhs and many others, looking after our birthplace, looking over Runnymede. I suggest that all hon. Members go there and take some of that in.
Over the past couple of days I have had the honour and privilege to host my opposite number from Australia, the hon. Matt Keogh. Yesterday I presented him with a poppy forged from barbed wire recovered from the battlefield of the Somme, as a sign of the shared sacrifice that our two countries made and which the Liberal Democrat leader—[Interruption.] Correction; perhaps in the future—the hon. Member for Esher and Walton spoke so powerfully about. Around 6,800 of the Australian Imperial Force were killed at the Somme, and 18,000 more were injured. It was a chance for me to reciprocate the Australian Government hosting me, as part of my visit with the House of Commons Defence Committee, and to reflect on our national gratitude for Australia’s contribution.
The Australian Government clean the tomb of the unknown Australian soldier every year. This year, I was inspired to take a moment to visit our own Tomb of the Unknown Warrior, and to remind ourselves that every one of those soldiers, sailors, aviators and nurses at the Somme, and elsewhere, gave everything to every one of us. That is why I went alone, and why my message to them reflected the individual nature of those soldiers’ sacrifices. From every one of us, to every one of you, lest we forget.
The loss extended into this place. Some 264 Members enlisted during the first world war. Many came home injured and traumatised, and 43 did not return at all. The hon. Member for Dumfries and Galloway (John Cooper) raised one of the bigger questions: what is war for? He gave us a powerful reminder that this was a war of liberation. It was a point that we must remember when we speak of the sacrifices that those in Ukraine are making today for us all across Europe. There was a powerful reminder from my hon. Friend the Member for Barrow and Furness (Michelle Scrogham) about the importance of the linkages that we created after the war between our communities and our European friends. Those linkages are things we should covet and seek to rebuild.
There was an incredibly powerful intervention from the right hon. Member for New Forest East (Sir Julian Lewis), who spoke in essence about the character and nature of war. It is easy for us to get suckered in to technology and to concern ourselves with how killing happens at such scale. We must remember, as he said, the enduring horribleness of fighting between peoples to remind ourselves that we must never allow it to happen again.
Mr Francois
As the Minister will know, many of those who died in the Somme were buried close to where they fell, so there is a whole line of cemeteries across the Somme battlefield that mark out the very limited extent of the allied advance. Across the Dispatch Boxes, will he join me in together paying tribute to the amazing work of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, which tends those graves to our fallen so respectfully and brilliantly?
Mr Bailey
I thank the shadow Minister for those powerful words. I agree with him, which is why I took the time to go to the grave of the Unknown Warrior. I will ensure that any Member of the House who wishes to do the same is able to do so, and I urge all hon. Members to take up that invitation.
The local and personal nature of the battalions who served in the first world war was reflected in a powerful contribution from my hon. Friend the Member for Ipswich (Jack Abbott), who spoke about loyalty and reminded us that freedom has a cost. My hon. Friends the Members for Harlow (Chris Vince) and for South Derbyshire (Samantha Niblett) spoke about the importance of preserving those links and reminding ourselves what war is for.
Before I finish and the hon. Member for South West Devon sums up the debate, I want to return to something she said about the amount of time that has elapsed since the battle of the Somme. Given that the battle was 110 years ago, it is easy for us to think that the time for remembrance has passed. However, as veterans will know, remembrance is part of the continuum of service. This year we remember the 20th anniversary of the loss of XV230 and the 14-person crew from 120 Squadron, the Royal Marines and the Parachute Regiment. We remember their loss and we will never forget their sacrifice.
In closing, the legacy of the battle of the Somme unites us in remembrance, no matter where we come from and no matter our religion, race or politics. The sacrifice of men and women—including the Canary Girls in Woolwich and Carlisle, who bonded over the colour that stained their hands—is the same, from the Somme to Afghanistan, from Gallipoli to XV230. We remember their loss and we will never forget their sacrifice.
Rebecca Smith
I am incredibly grateful to all those who have contributed today and to the Commonwealth War Graves Commission for helping to prepare for the debate. We have heard many individual names and about people of different nationalities and religions. We have heard about the role of women, the pals battalions, sports teams, miners and medics, and we have heard examples of immense bravery. Reflections about the human cost of war have brought emotion across the Chamber as we have shared the sheer scale of the losses at the battle of the Somme and allowed it to sink in again.
One hundred and ten years ago, the young men who fought on the Somme would have had no idea that Members of Parliament would still be speaking their names in this Chamber more than a century later. Perhaps that is exactly what remembrance requires of us. The most meaningful thing that we can do as we approach 18 November, the 110th anniversary, is simply to tell their stories again, because remembrance cannot be passive; it has to be renewed by every generation. Those who fought on the Somme entrusted their memory first to their families, then to the memorials and cemeteries that were built in their names, and ultimately to us and all those whom we represent. We will remember them.
Question put and agreed to.
Resolved,
That this House has considered the 110th anniversary of the battle of the Somme.