Battle of the Somme: 110th Anniversary

Jas Athwal Excerpts

Thursday 12th November 2026 Commons Chamber

[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.