Dunno which I should post this on really but here goes...

I always think of my Grandad, Alf Stanley, on Armistice day. He fought in the first world war and was wounded, not once but twice and sent back both times. He lost part of his tongue to a bullet that, luckily, passed through his neck and cheek with no other damage in one incident. In the other he was blinded in one eye during a gas attack. He joined as a Lancashire Fusileer and ended up as a Welsh one!

His proudest memory though was rescuing a young girl from down a well. For that he received a French "actes de courage" medal which was his prize possession and I now have custody of. Why Armistice day always reminds me is that, on remembrance parade, he wore the French medal alongside his other campaign medals and used to have a good laugh when anyone had a go at him for wearing his medal ribbon showing blue, white and red instead of the usual British red, white and blue :-)

He related to me that on one occasion when he was wearing the medal he met some Frenchmen over here for Armistice day. Although he could not fully understand what they were saying, he got the gist that they would like to thank him by buying him a drink. He reckons he woke up 2 days later :-D

Cheers

DtG