Come Home to Rest
ARTICLES of GENERAL INTEREST
COME HOME TO REST
I was a young boy about ten years old, and I had come from my home in Wenvoe to meet my parents at St Mary’s Church. They had gone to the ten o’ clock service. I wasn’t feeling too good that day, so had stayed home.
I arrived at the small park between the Wenvoe Arms and the church and saw a man sitting by the monument. The man was dressed in a brownish green uniform with a coat to match. It was full of mud; the man’s face and hands were covered in dark smears too. He had a peaked hat and a long rifle lying next to him on the ground. His boots, which were also dirty, seemed to be like hobnail boots that workmen wear. Across the man’s face there was a bandage that went around the top of his head covering his left ear. This was also dirty.
“Hello” I said, “are you waiting for someone?” “Yes”, said the man, “I am waiting for my Mam and Dad to come out of church. They always go to the ten o’clock service.” “Who are you?” asked the man. “My name is Julian” I said, “but my friends call me Jules.” The man turned round to me and said, “My name is Terrence Gormley, but my friends call me Terry.” He looked about twenty years old and when he shook my hand it felt cold and wet.
“Do you live in the village” I asked. Terry looked at me and said, “My Dad works on the estate in the village, and we live in one of their cottages. I have just come back from fighting at the Front in a place called the Somme.” “Where’s that?” I asked. “It’s in France” he said. “What’s your gun called?” I asked. “It’s a Lee Enfield rifle” he said.
“How come you went to war” I asked. Terry said “A few of us from the village joined the Welsh Regiment in 1915. I got hit and was sent home to rest. I got the boat to Dover, caught a train to Cardiff, then a milkman gave me a lift to Wenvoe on his cart.” “Where did you get hit?” I asked. Terry pointed to his ear which was covered by the bandage. “I guess I was just lucky” he said. “Oh, by the way” said Terry, “what’s the date today?” I looked at my watch. “It’s 11th November.”
“Well, I guess I might walk up to the church to meet my parents” I said. “I’ll just wait here to meet mine” said Terry, “and I might catch a glimpse of my girlfriend Nelly, if she has gone to church.” As I walked up to the church, the bells began to chime, and I saw my parents coming out. I ran to meet them, and they asked if I was feeling ok now.
I told my parents what had happened to me in the last half hour. They looked concerned and asked me if I could take them to where I met Terry. When we arrived, my dad said “This is the First World War memorial to the fallen servicemen from Wenvoe.” There was no-one at the memorial, but my dad asked me to repeat the name again of the person I had talked to. “Terrance Gormley,” I said. My Dad looked at the fallen names from the village and found a T. Gormley on one of the stones.
