A century ago this month, my great-grandfather — a corporal in the Liverpool-recruited King's Regiment — was waiting to go "over-the-top" at the Somme.
Sent to pick up the company rum ration before the assault, he wound up drinking it and woke up after the action — or at least, that's the story he told the family after World War I was over.
Perhaps his superiors were in an unusually forgiving mood. Or perhaps, like many others, he was just looking for a way to avoid retelling his experiences. By the end of the first day, the Allies had suffered almost 60,000 casualties for precious little ground. By the time the offensive was canceled later in the year, there were more than 800,000, over half of them fatalities.