Michael Morpurgo's War Horse

I have clearly reached the point when the future is considerably shorter than the past ,and perhaps this explains my current desire to find out more about my respective grandfathers' involvement in the two world wars.

I studied history to A'level, have long been fascinated by the machinations of politics through the ages, whether regal or governmental and how they, along with religion - whichever god you may follow - can often fuel a maniacal desire for everlasting power. But, in spite of the dates I thought I knew of battles fought and won within living memory, and the potential of one neurotic man with a hirsute upper lip, I probably never truly appreciated the bravery, fear, derring-do, camarderie and outright terror that must have formed a huge part of my grandfathers lives, one in WWI, the other in the second world war.

When the youngest offspring recently remarked that she thought she knew a certain amount about WWII, but didn't really know much of the first, we began to research. In spite of some family records, this would doubtless have been 100 times easier had I thought to ask the same questions of my grandfather whilst he lived. Some 30+ years since his death, records are split between relatives, there is a lack of clarity as to which regiment was joined when and a lack of understanding exists about the origin of a medal with an exotic name, but far from exotic look. 

Whilst we accept that, along with my uncles and father's generation, we have work to do to uncover the whole story, my youngest is re-reading Michael Morpurgo's excellent book, War Horse. In years gone by, I have had to stare at ceilings, have sips of water, or discuss some mundane school topic in order not to weep openly when reading this book aloud to the other children in their younger states. Telling the story from the point of view of the horse was a brilliant masterstroke from Mr Morpurgo; children can empathise with Private Peaceful, but Joey's trials and tribulations in War Horse brought many things home to them that ensured that, for them, war is never glorified.

I'm aware that time passes all too quickly and somehow, before we forget to arrange this meeting, or that 'phone call, we should write down and copy all that we do know so that my grandfather's great-grandchildren and theirs to follow don't trivialise the horrors endured by the real life Privates, the auxiliary staff, or indeed the horses.