Professor of Rights at the University of London and his nephew Ken
Parsons from Sussex when they handed the chalice, which had been
salvaged from the rubble, back to the Church Committee of Saint
Martin's Cathedral in Ypres.
George Parsons, Ken's grandfather, was serving as the Acting Company
Sergeant Major in the Royal Service Corps, when his company sustained
heavy artillery fire whilst in Ypres. Finding cover in the cathedral
he and his men got caught in the rubble and dust. Crawling from the
debris, Parsons noticed the chalice and put it into his satchel.
Shortly after this incident he was injured for the third time and got
invalided home.
The chalice found its way to Coulsden, on the outskirts of London, and
gradually got forgotten. Only last year, during a chat with friends
about the Great War, did the story of George and 'his' chalice surface
again. Ken contacted Terence inquiring whether the chalice was still
in his possession. A quick decision was taken to return the piece to
its rightful owners.
Off and on memorabilia of the Great War are returning to the
cathedral. While these objects are not always highly valuable in
themselves, it is the intensely emotional story they tell that is all
the more relevant. In this case it was the unreal story of a young man
who was in Ypres at the height of the war.
This anecdote reminds me of the subdued emotionality of one of Ivor
Gurney's memorable 'Ypres poems',
Memory, let all slip
Memory, let all slip save what is sweet
Of Ypres plains.
Keep only autumn sunlight and the fleet
Clouds after rains,
Blue sky and mellow distance softly blue;
These only hold.
Lest I my panged grave must share with you.
Else dead. Else cold.
Best regards,
Chris
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