The sad news has reached our town of a tragic loss to our community. Corporal Rodney Marshall, of the Fifth Battalion, the Lincolnshire Regiment, son of Mr and Mrs Marshall of Fleethaven Grange, has laid down his life for his country. Corporal Marshall was one of the first from this district to enlist when Major Langley gave his stirring address at a meeting in the town at the beginning of September last, only a month after hostilities had broken out.

Corporal Marshall was born at the Grange and had attended a boarding school in Lincoln where, only this year, he gained a place at Oxford, which, but for the outbreak of war and his immediate courageous enlistment, he would have taken up last October. A fine young man who undoubtedly had a brilliant career ahead of him, has made the greatest sacrifice of all. Our deepest sympathy is extended to his parents and brother, but we share in their pride at the great sacrifice he has made.

Killed also on the same day and from the same Regiment as Corporal Marshall was Private Ernest Harris, a worker on Squire Marshall’s estate.

‘Oh, Will.’ Esther looked up from the newspaper she held in her hands, having laboured over the printed words, needing to read for herself before she could believe it true. ‘Oh, Will, I must go to Ma. Does she know?’

He nodded sadly. ‘It were me that telled her, lass. Eeeh, but I thought they’d have been told – that they’d have had one of them awful telegrams.’ He took off his cap, ran his hand through his greying hair. ‘But they hadn’t. Oh Esther, lass, they didn’t know till I showed ’em the paper.’ His eyes were troubled, almost tearful. ‘I never thought.’

Esther put her arms around Will and for a moment they clung together. ‘Don’t, Will, don’t. It ain’t your fault. It’s the – the authorities. They should have told them.’

She felt him shake his head against her and his words were muffled against her shoulder. ‘Aye, but there’s that many, Esther. That many.’

He pulled away from her gently and patted her shoulder, a little embarrassed at his emotional display.

‘What do you mean?’ Esther whispered, her eyes wide.

‘The main newspapers give lists of casualties every day. I ’eard as how lots of families learn of the death of their relatives that way. Then a telegram arrives a few days later. It ain’t really anyone’s fault, they’re just snowed under with the number that they’ve to deal with.’

Esther gasped. ‘You mean, there’s that many getting killed every day?’

Will nodded but could not bring himself to meet her eyes.