WILLIE WAS THERE
 
My uncle William Hewit (Willie) was born in Edinburgh in 1898. At the outbreak of the Great War he enlisted in the Royal Scots. One month  before the war ended he was killed during the 2nd Battle of Arras.  He has no grave but his name can be found on the memorial at Vis-en-Artois.
 
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Willie was the first-born, healthy and welcomed;
He'd his father's fine features and his mother's fair hair.
He was strong and determined;  when he cried out for feeding
There was no doubt about it, Willie was there!
 
Soon he had a young brother and three bonny sisters;
They looked up to Willie and thought none could compare.
He became their best friend, their rock and their champion;
They feared no school bully when Willie was there.
 
When Willie was sixteen, the Great War erupted
With his pals, he enlisted, to his mother's despair.
She kept her fears hidden and smiled when he left her,
But her life was pure torture, knowing Willie was there.
 
He was sent to the Dardanelles to fight at Gallipoli
Then to France, on the Western Front, near the town of Albert.
A stretcher bearer had little protection,
But for the wounded and the dying, Willie was there.
 
The Battle of Arras saw merciless slaughter
In waist-deep mud and shrapnel-filled air.
Dead and near-dead were heaped in the field dressing station
When a shellburst destroyed it, while Willie was there.
 
For a long time after, his mother took solace
In the Book of Remembrance.  Year after year
With aching heart and eyes filled with tears, she’d see
Among the proud names, that Willie's was there.
 
She died in her nineties, having every day missed him;
We thought she was sleeping in her old worn armchair.
As we closed her eyes gently we saw she was smiling
And we knew it was alright, Willie was there!
 
And after that, Willie might have just been forgotten,
But each new generation knows that it too must care.
On a school trip to France, his young great grand-niece
Placed a cross that she’d kissed; for Willie, Alex was there.