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    DURING THE GREAT WAR, 1914-1918

    Compiled by WRITE FROM THE HEART

    Glossop Community Writers 2014-2016

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    From the dark places in the world

    Comes the nightmare of war.

    A madman who thinks he knows best,

    A madman who wants to conquer all.

    Men called to arms, help, protect;

    Leaving wives and families behind.

    Off in righteous indignation

    In strange lands far away.

    Once lush meadows,

    Now muddy trenches.

    Men on bended knee;

    Praying for an end,

    Not caring how it comes.

    Conflict causing losses,

    Making widows and orphans,

    All to stop a madman.

    Years of bloodshed,

    Home and away.

    Finally the battles won

    Poppies commemorate the lost.

    Always remember, never forget

    Sacrifices to protect the innocent.

    Jenni Cleverley

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    Introduction and Acknowledgments This trail could not have been compiled without help from several organisations in

    Glossop and district. Churches and other establishments opened their doors so we could

    take photographs, we were supported and encouraged by local branches of the British

    Legion and the U3A, and the Glossopdale Heritage Trust provided us with invaluable

    information that formed the basis for this project. Above all we are grateful to the

    Heritage Lottery Fund for financial support. The project they financed was entitled

    “Carved in Stone”, though many of our memorials are recorded on other media: wood,

    bronze, iron, glass, paper, etc. Glossop Rotary Club also made a generous contribution to

    the work, helping us to defray production and printing costs.

    A wide range of sites are officially classed as “war memorials”. For instance, the wartime

    aeroplane crashes on the moors east and south of Glossopdale are war memorials, but

    they date almost exclusively from the 1939-45 conflict and our grant was to construct a

    First World War Memorial Trail, so we have not included them. The public library has a

    Second World War roll of honour in a glass case close to the entrance. Also, many of

    Glossopdale’s mills would have exhibited rolls of honour commemorating employees

    who fell during the conflict, but almost all these mills have gone and their memorial

    plaques, and their archives, are no more. One recently-demolished mill, Hawkshead in

    Old Glossop, did indeed have a roll of honour, but our cameras could not outpace the

    property developers. The local branch of the Cooperative Society in the town centre still

    retains its roll of honour, transferred from its former building in Norfolk Square, and a

    picture of this roll is included in the following pages.

    Despite our best endeavours, there could be extant memorials that we have overlooked. If

    so, we would be glad to learn about them so we can make this trail as comprehensive as

    possible. We have no wish to omit anything carved in stone or wood, or cast in metal or

    any other medium, that honours the individuals of Glossop and district who died fighting

    in the First World War. Any reader who can provide information we have missed, or

    wishes to comment in any other way, can contact us via the Write from the Heart website,

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    The Trail circulates clockwise through what remains of the medieval parish of

    Glossopdale, beginning at Chisworth, passing northwards to Hadfield and Padfield,

    eastwards to Old Glossop, and then back south-westwards to the town centre and

    Whitfield. The direction is obviously arbitrary, and interested visitors (or local residents)

    are at liberty to follow whole or part in any order they choose. It is in a sense two

    trails, one comprising the locations of extant rolls of honour and plaques (indicated by

    the numbers 1, 2, 3 etc. around the clockwise circuit), the other comprising the

    locations of former memorials that have now been removed (indicated by the letters A, B,

    C etc. in the same direction). The latter are included because they tell us something of

    how the town has changed during recent decades, and how widely the local residents who

    fell during the First World War were formerly commemorated.

    We hope this trail will help its readers to recognise the number and range of memorials,

    extant or not, through which the dead of this parish have been honoured. By following

    even a part of the Trail, readers will be reminded of the many that deserve never to be

    forgotten; and perhaps, when they travel to other parts of the country, they will enjoy a

    similar abundance and variety of symbols of remembrance that await them there.

    Interspersed throughout this online trail document are a few of the creative writing

    pieces members were inspired to produce during the `carved in stone` journey.

    Grand old General Haig He had ten thousand men.

    He marched them into trenches French And they never came home again.

    For when they were shot, they were shot, And when they were dead, they were dead.

    But if they were lucky, one in ten, They were neither shot nor dead.

    Jane Hughes

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    Musings of a Memorial

    Ninety-four years old now, I am, and resigned to it. The names of local men who

    died in the wars are printed on my memory for all to see. Well, some of the men

    who died in the wars. I wouldn’t have the capacity to remember all of them even if

    their families could afford to have them printed. But the ones I carry serve as a kind

    of synecdoche: the few represent the many. At least, that’s the way I see it. Not that

    anyone asks me. They’d get funny looks if they were seen asking me anything.

    Once a year I become the centre of – I almost said “centre of attention”, but of

    course I’m not the centre of attention. Centre of activity, perhaps. Focus of activity.

    Gathering place for a crowd – hundreds, maybe a thousand or so. There are prayers,

    a brass band, uniforms, flags, and wreath after wreath of poppies. The people are

    here for a good half hour. Then the crowd departs, the clergy go for refreshments,

    the brass band puts away its instruments, the flags are furled, and all that remains are

    the poppies, artificial poppies; and me. The poppies might be around for a few

    weeks, even months. I’m here all year, rain or shine, summer and winter, carrying

    the few names representing the many, a stone memory to compensate for the

    unreliability and mortality of human recollection.

    And except for that one day a year, people don’t notice me. They know I’m there;

    they see me every day; but I’m seen and not seen. I carry no meaning except on that

    one day per year. The rest of the time it’s pigeons, and children and dogs chasing

    pigeons, and skateboards, and perhaps – now and again – a lone figure sitting on my

    pediment in the gathering darkness, smoking, lost in contemplation, wearing or not

    wearing a white poppy as a symbol of futility.

    I don’t think my hundredth birthday will be a cause for celebration, because nothing

    will change.

    Mark Henderson

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    Extant Plaques and Rolls of Honour

    1. Chisworth Wesleyan Chapel

    OS grid reference SJ998779218

    Unlike many former Methodist churches in the area, Chisworth Chapel remains

    active. It was opened in 1834-35 but fell into disrepair within half a century and was

    rebuilt in 1890. The First World War roll of honour is on the outside wall of the

    building beside the main door.


    Pals we were and pals we stayed, A “Pals” battalion on parade.

    Through school and work we knew each other And thought war “just a bit of bother”.

    But we soon learned. Our youth a hymn short sung, we died.

    Pals to the end, men side by side. Our spirit and courage didn't fail

    At Ypres, The Somme and Passchendaele. Our names are writ here in stone and brass.

    Give us a thought each time you pass. Pause briefly just to say “How Do?”

    Your prayer for us – we'll pray for you.

    John Parker

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    2. St John the Evangelist Church, Charlesworth

    OS grid reference SK0042692893

    A brass plaque on the south wall of the

    nave names Lance Corporal Curtis Cuthbert

    Garside, who “was accidentally drowned in

    the River Tigris on June 12th, 1917, while

    serving his country there, and was buried in

    the cemetery of Sindiyeh, Mesopotamia”.

    This young man had survived fierce

    battles in the Middle East that had claimed

    innumerable lives, only to be drowned by

    accident while swimming.

    The west window commemorates men of the

    parish who fell during the 1914-18 War; the

    stained glass was cleaned on the centenary of the

    outbreak of hostilities.

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    3. Charlesworth W