LIKE a lot of old soldiers, Samuel Turner never talked much about the horrors he saw during the First World War and took many of his worst memories to his grave when he died in 1956, at the age of only 57.

"My father was one of the lucky ones who returned from The Great War after serving in France with the Worcestershire Regiment during the heavy battles raging there in 1916/17," said his daughter Pamela Barter, who now lives near Ascot.

"Our family came from Droitwich and as children, I and my sisters Jo and Jill and our brother Sam never heard our gentle and loving father talk about the horrors of war, but we realise now he must have seen so much of it up close when, after lying about his age, he volunteered to join the army and was sent to The Somme at the tender age of just 16. Fortunately he survived and later married and had children, unlike the many young men who sacrificed their lives serving their country in a war nobody wanted, which was supposed to end in a few short months, but actually lasted four harrowing years and claimed so many innocent victims.

"But our gentle and loving Dad knew stories about his war experiences would be too upsetting for us kids, so we never heard from him how the British Tommies fought against unbelievable odds in stinking mud filled trenches with constant cannon fire and bullets bombarding them as they waited for another dreaded gas attack. We were to learn that when we grew older and be horrified to think our own dear father had been in such terrible danger and we might never have existed. But not for nothing are we British known for our stiff upper lip and our self- deprecating sense of humour and it was still evident even in those dark days of the war as I can vouch for with this little childhood memory:

"Dad liked a glass or two of beer and sometimes, after he’d had one too many at the local pub, he would open up and tell us a bit about his time in France but, never the sombre side, it was always about his beloved horses and his comrades. Dad and his soldier pal called Miles, were given the task of ferrying cigarettes and other ‘essentials’ on horseback up the line to the troops at the Front. It was obviously a long, hard and very dangerous journey covering many miles and the sights and sounds of fighting and bombardments must have been terrifying for the young men as well as the horses, but we never heard about that.

"No, it was always the same tale about the horses Sydney and Billy, much loved companions of Dad and Miles as they plied their way backwards and forwards through the muddy fields from the supply depot up the line, where they were eagerly awaited by the war weary troops desperate for a fag and news from home.

"And the story always ended with the same little joke, when Dad would burst out laughing as he said: 'We travelled miles and miles and his name was Miles…..', followed by our favourite bit - 'and Billy and Sydney used to turn their heads and nod wisely to each other'."