Haunted by Passchendaele

In France, at the height of the horror

He had taken two days to climb out of a shell-hole

Leaving his former self, lying in the mud

To return home a mere shadow

Wearing his clothes as a costume

As he masqueraded through what remained of his life

On the 11th November I always remember my Great Uncle Frederick, who died on the battlefield in 1916, my Great Uncle Ernest who  died in 1921 following years of the agony of shell-shock and their nephew Ernest who died on HMS Javelin in 1940.
Also the family of my Uncle Len, whose mother, father and two brothers died when a V1 hit Portsmouth in July 1944, my father aged just 20 had to break this news to his family.
Finally I remember my Great Grandmother and a Great, Great Aunt who both died shortly after the end of WW1, the loss of their sons being just too much to bear.  
Of course each of these losses is far too much to bear.