My dad was in the British Army, Horse Artillery, and fought in France for over four years, leaving behind my mother and four little boys. Dad thought that his going to fight was what would help end war for all time, and that his sons would never have to go to war.
He was the only survivor of a shell attack, and he spent a short time in the field hospital, and he rallied. However, these wounds came back to haunt him after he came to Canada. He eventually lost his eyesight, due to optic nerve damage.
One uncle was killed in France, leaving a young widow and two little boys, one of whom died of meningitis shortly after. The other uncle came home with TB, and my aunt nursed him until he died a few months later. That left two little girls without a father. Those two aunts, my widowed grandmother and a bachelor then immigrated to Canada. The aunts and uncles got jobs and grandma looked after the three children. Sadly, my two aunts, who had suffered so much during the war and worked so hard, both died young, and then there were three orphans to raise. It was very difficult, as there was no help in those days from government. However, our family then came over, and for a time we all lived together and were very close. My cousins have always been like siblings to me.
War leads to sadness for so many. It doesn't end with the death of the one soldier. It affects the orphaned children for a lifetime.