I’m looking at some papers that have been stored away in the National Archives for about 90 years. They're quite badly burned, and I’m possibly the first person to read through them since then.
In their own way the papers tell a remarkable story of an ordinary man. He was called Harry Farrar and lived at 66 Pleasant Row, Ripponden, near Halifax.
He was barely 18 years of age, when suddenly his life was changed dramatically. The papers tell us that, on March 23rd 1917, Harry was conscripted into the British Army. Instead of being an everyday cotton piecer, Harry was now being trained to kill other men.
Eventually, he was sent to the Western Front.
What would his thoughts have been then?
Excited and eager - or perhaps frightened and reluctant?
Did he see himself as a hero, or deep down did he think he was really a coward?
The papers cannot tell us this much, and we can only guess.
According to his papers his first front line tour of duty was in March 1918. The story of Harry’s war continues on the next line, where a single word is stamped – 'Missing'.
If we now look further through his papers we eventually find a note that says 'March 22nd, place of capture – Ecoust'.
Harry had survived, but only just, and he was packed off to a Prisoner of War camp deep inside Germany.
And that was Harry’s war.
Was he well treated? Did he wonder if he would ever get back home again? The papers cannot tell us that much and again, and we can only guess.
Fortunately for Harry the war soon ended, and he was repatriated back to Engand.
For Harry it was a short war, but he is one of thousands of stories lying in official soldiers records. Some will be more eventful and some will not have Harry’s happy ending.
But they were all citizen soldiers, who for a while had to change from the very ordinary into the very extraordinary.
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