Lest we forget

There's a small turning off Ngong Road on the right hand side as you head into town. It's just past the racecourse and almost equidistant between our office at Lenana and Jamhuri. Thousands of people pass it every day by car and on foot, but I've never seen anyone make that turn. It brings you onto a long tree-lined avenue that leads to a cemetary and memorials that commemorate the fallen of the war in East Africa, 1940-41. This Sunday is Remembrance Sunday.





My Grandfather fought in the First War and, while we're remembering, this is the transcript of a letter sent to my Great Grandmother by one of his men. I never had the chance to know him, and this letter makes me wish I had.

June 19th, 1918
France

Dear Mrs. Stephenson,

I’m sure I don’t know whether this is the proper way to address you or not, and I hope you will pardon me the great liberty which I am taking in writing to you on behalf of the men of the battery and myself, which came out with the battery two years ago. The reason why I am writing is to ask you if you would mind letting me know if Capt Stephenson is recovering alright or if he has got better and been transferred to another battery as no one seems to know anything about him here. If he has been sent to another battery, would you mind sending me his address as I would like to ask him to get me transferred as well to be along with him. I have been his servant three years now and well I think there is no one like him, and if he gets another servant I’m sure he wont look after him properly. Also, I have to tell you that the men think him one of the best Officers out in France. He was practically in charge of two brigades of artillery and he never lost either a man, horse, gun or wagon all during the retirement, and how he managed to bear up through it all was really a marvel. If you could hear the men praising him your heart would well nigh burst with pride, and I am not telling you this simply because you are Capt. Stephenson’s mother but because its every bit true. He was the last old Battery Officer that we had left and that in itself makes us doubly anxious to have him back. I have watched the various roads into the camp waiting for him until I think I know every stone in them, but he never appears. No doubt you will think me very presumptious in writing to you like this, and I don’t know what the Captain would think if he knew, but hope that you will excuse me. Hoping that the Capt’s sister, brother and yourself are enjoying the very best of health.

I have the honour to be
Your obedient servant

G. J. Taylor. 750693.