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                                                         Norman Schroeder  1891 – 1947                                                   11th Battalion, South Wales Borderers My father, Norman Schroeder, was aged 23 when the First World War began in 1914.  It is presumed in the family that, because Schroeder was a German name, he and his brothers were not allowed at that time to enlist and fight for their country. They were sent to Wales to work in the coal-mines as many Welsh miners had gone to France and their expertise underground was invaluable, with many tunnels and dugouts needed; one of Dad's brothers was injured in the mines and never fully recovered.  Dad was to recall after the war how, after a shift down a coal-mine, the women at his lodgings would have prepared a very hot bath, in front of a fire, and would proceed to scrub him down until he was clean! Because of the great numbers who had lost their lives, or sustained injuries, since the beginning of the war, Dad and his brothers were now eventually able to join the fight and in Aug/Sept 1915 he enlisted in the Army - 11th Battalion, South Wales Borderers – a volunteer battalion, at its inception, and, after training, he saw service on the Western Front.  His Battalion played a part in the battles of Montauban, Fricourt, Contalmaison and La Boiselle in France.  The first two weeks of July 1916 found him, and his comrades, at the Battle of Albert, a phase of the Battles of the Somme.  The Battalion lost so many men in the following battle, at Mametz Wood, that they did not return to fight in major battles for almost a year!  On July 31st, 1917, the opening day of the 3rd Battle of Ypres, at Pilckem Ridge in France (the first phase of the Battle of Passchendale) Dad was injured in his left ankle, by flying shrapnel, and was subsequently captured and taken to a German POW hospital at Hamborn near Hamburg, Germany. He was later transferred to the POW camps of Muntz II and Senna camp near Westphalia, Germany where he spent the remainder of the war.  On his return from the war, Dad recalled how, on the day he was injured, his commanding officer lost his life when he 'fell' on a grenade therefore saving some of his men from probable death or injury – a true hero and leader of men! The POW information above has only recently become available on the internet; the records having been kept by the Red Cross of all POWs during WWI. In later years, I remember Dad telling us children about his war wound and, indeed, he did have a slight turn in his left foot as a result of that wound.  Details of what he went through, before and during his capture, were never much talked about, although my elder brother, Ken, said Dad told him he had been a sniper during the war.  One more thing mentioned though, of his time in the POW hospital on capture, was that of a German nurse commenting on his surname, Walters, and what a good German name it was; 'Valters' as she pronounced it.  Ironic really, as Dad had chosen, on enlistment, to take the English sounding name of Walters, as opposed to his German surname of Schroeder;  he, of course, was in good company, as our Royal family also changed their German name in 1917!  Dad was proud of his name though and returned to his life as Norman Schroeder, when he came home after the war had ended.  Living in Langford at that time,  he eventually met and married a Wrington girl, Louisa Ada Maud Parsley, of Station Road, and they brought up their family of 8 children in the village.  Dad died in 1947 and 2 of his children still live in the village; myself, Lillian and my brother Ray.  I am so proud of my Dad and of my heritage.  The fact that he and his brothers chose to fight against the ideals of Wilhelm II, (Kaiser Bill) Emperor of Germany and King of Prussia, despite their German ancestry (their father was born in Germany of German parents), is proof to me that he fought for what he believed was right and not to have followed blindly. In remembrance of all those who gave their lives at that time...