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Last surviving World War I veteran dies in England


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Last surviving World War I veteran dies in England

2012-02-08 20:25:40 GMT+7 (ICT)

LONDON (BNO NEWS) -- Florence Green, the last surviving World War I veteran, died at a care home in eastern England last week, the British Ministry of Defense announced on Wednesday. She was 110 years old.

Green, who was born in the British capital of London, enlisted in the Women's Royal Air Force (WRAF) in September 1918 when she was 17 years old, joining the Allies two months before the armistice. She served as a mess steward at RAF bases in Marham and Narborough before leaving the WRAF in July 1919.

Green died in her sleep on Saturday night at the Briar House care home in King's Lynn, located in Norfolk county in eastern England. Her death came exactly two weeks before she was to turn 111 on February 19.

The world's last surviving World War I veteran married at the age of 19, just two years after enlisting in the WRAF. Her husband Walter served in both World War I and World War II before he died at the age of 82 in 1975.

After leaving WRAF, Green moved to work in a hotel in King's Lynn and in her spare time was heavily involved with the Royal British Legion. "I never heard anyone say a bad word about her. She would never blow her own trumpet and certainly wouldn't shout about the fact she was the last veteran," said June Evetts, Green's youngest daughter. "She was very proud of what she did and we are all very proud of her. Her death does close the book on the First World War as there are no veterans left now."

Women in the WRAF were used for a variety of jobs, including as drivers, mechanics, cooks and office clerks. At first the women were based only in Britain, but about 500 women later served in France and Germany before the WRAF was disbanded in April 1920.

Green is survived by three children - aged 90, 85, and 76 - four grandchildren, and seven great-grandchildren. Funeral ceremonies for Green are scheduled to take place at Mintlyn Crematorium, Bawsey, in Norfolk, on February 16 and will also be attended by members of the Royal Air Force.

Claude Choules, the last known World War I combat veteran, died in Australia at the age of 110 in May 2011. The last three World War I veterans living in the UK - Bill Stone, Henry Allingham and Harry Patch - all died in 2009.

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-- © BNO News All rights reserved 2012-02-08

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RIP to this lady. I have visited the battlefields of the Somme on a couple of occasions, a very sobering experience. Pretty much a whole generation of working class young men slaughtered for no good reason. As a wise man once observed, " Lions led by donkeys".

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RIP to this lady. I have visited the battlefields of the Somme on a couple of occasions, a very sobering experience. Pretty much a whole generation of working class young men slaughtered for no good reason. As a wise man once observed, " Lions led by donkeys".

i rtoo have made these visits and they make your hair stand up on the back of your neck.

RIP Florence - a beacon for a memory of the past that should never be forgotten.

(On a lighter note I was going to change the name of my restaurant in her memory - sadly "Flo Green's" doesn't have quite the same ring to it as "Egon Ronay" p- or even "Harry Ramsdens".)

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RIP to this lady. I have visited the battlefields of the Somme on a couple of occasions, a very sobering experience. Pretty much a whole generation of working class young men slaughtered for no good reason. As a wise man once observed, " Lions led by donkeys".

i rtoo have made these visits and they make your hair stand up on the back of your neck.

RIP Florence - a beacon for a memory of the past that should never be forgotten.

(On a lighter note I was going to change the name of my restaurant in her memory - sadly "Flo Green's" doesn't have quite the same ring to it as "Egon Ronay" p- or even "Harry Ramsdens".)

True, but Flo Greens would have so much more meaning and history! than Ramsdens and Ronay. I would eat in a Flo Greens any day!

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I thought with Flo's passing I would dig around and find a book of poems that my Great Uncle wrote. I had them all typed up for him. In his later years he would sit endlessly scrawling words as If he knew he needed to get his message across before he passed. Here are two poems of his from those dreadful days when our countries young sacrificed so much and left those surviving with such a cross to bear throughout the years.

Be gentle on him, these were never meant to be published, they are not from a poet laureate, but the words of someone who was there.

The Young Who Die.

Eighteen years of age and six weeks to live

A dingy dugout cold and damp.

Eighteen years of age and six weeks to live.

A king’s shilling

And a Judas kiss from a vaudeville vamp.

The firing step is a lonely place.

It gives to neither friend or foe

Any kind of favourable grace.

Eighteen years of age and six weeks to live.

Dead men lying at his feet

All part of the daily slaughter.

All part of his normal day, advance and retreat,

Hold your position up to your waist in water.

Eighteen years of age and six weeks to live.

A one in five issue of tin hats

To keep shrapnel off his head.

Sharing his meals with the rats

And sleeping with the dead.

\Eighteen years of age and six weeks to live.

A rifle but couched in his cheek

Mind and hand drilled, load aim and fire,

Seven long weary days a week

Gazing through the barbed wire.

Eighteen years of age and six weeks to live.

Dreading the awful wire

And the things hanging on it.

Eighteen years of age and six weeks to live.

Star shells blinding him,

Shell holes hiding him,

Gas shells choking him.

Eighteen years of age and six weeks to live.

A back drop of tracer blazoned skies,

Will he and the German youth

Ever be told the truth,

Instead of the lies, the lies the lies.

I always found this one quite moving. It is about Harry Farr, one of the many young lads shot for cowardice, when in reality they were just quaking in their poor boots.

SHOT FOR COWARDICE

Dear HARRY FARR they went too far

to murder you the way they did.

You and all the others

]your broken hearted mothers

struggling thro’ the hazards

and the awful blooded shame

they painted on each name.

Shamed in fogged blizzards

]of cold cruelty.

On a cheap fealty

they took you into war.

The casualties were great

spent on a king’s worthless shilling,

and the first and never last

were honesty and truth.

In a twist of morbid fate

the ever willing youth

suffocated in the horror

they called valour.

DEAR Harry,

no honest bullet sent you down.

No medal lay on your chest

nor kind word laid you to rest.

No headstone gave a number and name.

Nothing did you have,

no poppy on your grave.

Nor to your wife a sad little letter.

on shame … shame and blame

from criminals who should have known better.

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