Dead Man’s Penny Memorial Plaque

David Morris Excerpts

Tuesday 23rd October 2018 Westminster Hall

[David Morris (Morecambe and Lunesdale) (Con)]

I beg to move,

That this House has considered the dead man’s penny memorial plaque.

It is a pleasure to serve under your chairmanship, Sir Edward. A number of years ago, before I became a Member of Parliament, I went to a local car boot sale. Looking through all the bric-a-brac and things from days gone by, I came across a bronze plaque that was six inches in diameter. It looked to all the world like a huge Victorian penny. It had Britannia on the front, shadowed by a lion. There were two dolphins and, at the bottom, a smaller lion was ripping apart an eagle. The lion with Britannia was the lion of courage, and the other lion was ripping apart the German eagle, while the dolphins signified the dominance of the seas that Great Britain enjoyed at the time. There was writing around the edge because the plaque was intended to commemorate the life of a fallen soldier. Such a plaque was known—rather crudely, given that it was to commemorate the life of one of our fallen soldiers—as a dead man’s penny.

The service people were from the fledging Air Force of the first world war, the Navy, which dominated the seas, and those who had fallen on the battlefields. They were originally to be positioned in the war grave headstones, but that did not happen due to the fear of metal pilfering after the war. They were struck only for the first world war as they cost so much to produce. Each plaque was struck—not engraved—with the name of the fallen soldier or serviceman.

I remember looking at the plaque—I did not know what it was; I researched it later—and wondering what had happened to the family of the fallen soldier, why the plaque had ended up there, what was the story behind it and what was the story of the soldier’s life and the family he left behind. It struck me that, more often than not, such plaques reach the market—militaria shops and auction sites—because the family have died. I emphasise strongly that militaria shops do us a great service by helping to keep alive the spirit of campaigns and conflicts that we only read about in the history books. We in Morecambe are fortunate enough to have an excellent military memorabilia shop, along with a proud and distinguished military heritage in Lancaster.

I found out later that more than 1.3 million plaques were struck—the exact number is not known—and given out to the families of the fallen. They were struck from 450 tons of bronze. They arrived in a box, sometimes with the medals of the soldier, airman or seaman, and every one of them had a certificate signed by King George V. They were given out predominantly after the war, although some were given before its end.

What do they mean in our day and age, 100 years on? We have had other wars, but world war one was the only occasion on which these plaques were struck in honour of the fallen. As I said, each plaque was individually struck—not engraved—with the name of a serviceman, but with no mention of their rank. It was struck simply to commemorate the serviceman or woman who gave their life doing their duty in the service of their country. In fact, 1,500 were given to women service personnel. They were given out all across the Commonwealth, to everybody engaged in the conflict.

In the great war, we lost 22 Members of Parliament, 20 Lords and 98 sons of people who worked here or were Members. This debate therefore has meaning not just for the rest of the country, but for Parliament itself. The outside of the plaque reads:

“He died for freedom and honour”.

Some plaques say, “She died”, depending on the sex of the service person. I once acquired a plaque. The gentleman named on it was Charles Edward Woodward. It had a hole in the plaque, a fact that made me a little emotional in my last debate on this subject 12 months ago, because it meant that it would have been hung on the wall, over the mantelpiece in his parent’s home. It would have been all they had left of him. I recently found out that his two other brothers also perished in the first world war. I got this plaque from a militaria shop not far from here, and the staff were very helpful and honourable in the exchange. With it came this man’s history, which says that it is a great war memorial plaque issued in memory of Charles Edward Woodward, who served as Private Nm. 1,200 of the 1/5th Battalion of the Lincolnshire Regiment, Territorial Force, and was killed in action at Ypres on 30 September 1915.

The local newspaper, the Lincolnshire Chronicle, reported Private Woodward’s death. A biographical note—bear with me, Sir Edward, because the type is quite small—states:

“News of the death of Pte. C. Woodward was recorded in the Lincolnshire Chronicle, he met his death while on duty in the trenches, the trench being struck by shells and he was buried. He was got out later, but only survived about an hour. The above was partly contradicted in a letter from Capt. Scorer to his parents, in which he stated ‘I have to inform you of the death of your son, Pte. C. W. Woodward, on the evening of 30th September. Our trenches were blown up by a German mine and about 60 yards destroyed. Your son was buried in the debris; we dug him out alive, and hoped he would recover, as from outward appearances he did not appear to be injured; but he died later from shock.’ Pte. Woodward was in his 21st year, and first in the village to lose his life.”

Private Woodward is commemorated by name on the Ypres Menin Gate memorial. He was only 20 at his death. He was the son of Parker and Mary Jane Woodward of Rose Cottage, Halton Fenside, Spilsby, Lincolnshire. This plaque was all that was left of him. He was a person. We should not forget that each one of these plaques signifies an individual—a person—who lost their life.

I want to raise awareness that each of these plaques signifies a person. I hope that one day they form a memorial—perhaps in the Imperial War Museum, although it will be difficult to find an area big enough to house more than 1.3 million of them—that demonstrates what they represent and commemorates those who died preserving the integrity of the democracy for which they fought proudly and gave their lives.

Sadly, however, over the years some of the plaques have been scrapped because no one knew what they were. Although I do not think many of them found their way into scrap yards, that nevertheless happened. The previous Member for Croydon South promoted a private Member’s Bill that resulted in legislation that prevents war memorials from being attacked and melted down. I would like these plaques to be covered by that legislation. They mean something. They are a memorial in themselves, especially in the centenary year of the end of the first world war.

What is the Government’s role? I know that they would like to do everything they can, but logistically that is impossible. It is up to us all in the community to recognise that these plaques really mean something. I would love to see some of them form a national memorial to the fallen or go to local regiments, local museums or even the Military Heritage Society.

I was honoured and fortunate enough to go to Spilsby, where I was accompanied by my hon. Friend the Member for Louth and Horncastle (Victoria Atkins), who is present today. Private Charles Woodward’s plaque now hangs in the memorial hall in his own village. He has found his way home. I am proud to have done that. It did not matter where that gentleman was from or that he had no connection to me—none of that mattered at all. What mattered was that he was remembered.

It would be fitting for these plaques to be taken to church on Remembrance Sunday. My debate on this subject in the main Chamber was very emotional and eerie. I do not subscribe to the paranormal, but it really felt as though the man was standing at my side. I had never felt that before, and I doubt I will ever feel it again, but other Members who were in the Chamber at the time experienced the feeling that something else was there too. If we take these plaques to church with us on Remembrance Sunday, those soldiers will be there, too, and they will be remembered. That is all that really matters. Let us remember them, let us honour them 100 years on, and let us celebrate what they did for our freedom.