WE study history to learn from it. I wish we did! One hundred years ago the 1914-1918 war ended.

It started with cavalry being used and ended with tanks and aircraft being deployed.

There were terrible casualties on both sides.

Men fought in unspeakable conditions.

It was thought to be “The war to end all wars”, such had been its horrific nature.

Despite this, twenty one years later Europe saw terrible conflict again.

The Second World War (1939-1945) brought terror that extended far beyond the battle field.

A new word came into our vocabulary – blitz. I went to school with evacuees taking refuge from this aerial horror.

The results of war were everywhere.

Wherever you live you will not be far from a war memorial, sadly there is one on most of our Cotswold village greens or in the churchyard.

Every year at this time Penny and I go to Daglingworth and stand in front of a churchyard yew tree and then go into the church of the Holy Rood, where my parents were married.

That is not why we go. On the war memorial in the church are two names. One from the First World War and one from the Second.

Charles Tibbles was killed in the First World War and is commemorated by the yew tree.

Jack Tibbles was a casualty of D Day. They are my grandfather and uncle.

There should be a third name there, that of my grandmother Helen Tibbles.

In 1918 her husband was killed and she was left with two small children, one of them was her only son Jack who did not survive the second awful war.

Of course gran grieved but she did something else as well. She never lost her pride in her husband and son. Serving in The Glorious Glosters, they had fought bravely for king and country. What more could they have done! Gran served the British Legion with love and vigour. She strode around Daglingworth visiting outlying farms and selling poppies in all weathers. I was staying with her in early November 1951 as I alighted from the bus after school she saw me and quickened her step to meet me. The poppy tray was round her neck. She collapsed with a fatal stroke. The poppies from her tray blew everywhere. If she was able to see them her last moment would have been enriched. War brings more casualties than those carved in Cotswold stone. There are so many for us to remember this weekend.