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Yorkshire
Regiment War Graves, - Essex Farm Cemetery |
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Essex Farm Cemetery - 1
Photo : Edward Nicholl
The land south of Essex Farm was used as a dressing station
cemetery from April 1915 to August 1917. The burials were made without definite
plan and some of the divisions which occupied this sector may be traced in
almost every part of the cemetery.
There are 1,199 servicemen of the First World War buried or commemorated in
this cemetery. 102 of the burials are unidentified but special memorials commemorate
19 casualties known or believed to be buried among them.
There are two graves of soldiers of the Yorkshire Regiment in the cemetery,
and there is also the grave of Private Valentine Joe Strudwick, - a soldier
who was killed when only 15 years old.
Select the thumbnail image of one of the headstones, below,
for a larger sized image to open in a new window. All photos by Edward Nicholl.
It was in the Dressing Station at Essex Farm Cemetery that Lieutenant-Colonel
John McCrae of the Canadian Army Medical Corps wrote the poem '
In Flanders Fields' in May 1915.
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Corporal William Barnett. 28133.
6th Battalion Yorkshire Regiment. Died 15 August 1917. Born Barningham, Enlisted Startforth, Resided Barningham (Yorks). |
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Private Walter Johnson. 18277. "C" Coy. 6th Battalion Yorkshire Regiment. Son of Michael and Hannah Johnson; husband of Nellie Johnson, of 23, Cecilia Place, Holgate Rd., York. Killed 15 August 1917. Aged 40. Born Malton (Yorks), Enlisted York. "I WILL UPHOLD THEE"
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Rifleman Valentinem Joe Strudwick.
5750. 8th Battalion, Rifle Brigade. Son of Louisa Strudwick, of 70, Orchard Rd., Dorking. One of the youngest battle casualties of the war. Died 14 January 1916. Age 15 years old. "NOT GONE FROM MEMORY
OR FROM LOVE" |
Essex
Farm Cemetery - 2
Photo : Edward Nicholl
Shown below is a copy of the poem "In Flanders Fields" written by Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae. Click on thumbnail image for a larger version of the photo.
| In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place: and in the sky The larks still bravely singing fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the dead: Short days ago, We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved: and now we lie In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe To you, from failing hands, we throw The torch: be yours to hold it high If ye break faith with us who die, We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields |