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Something to bring a lump to the throat.

Most of the news snippets I publicise are either mildly comic or induce teeth grinding in me, but here, for once, is something a little more uplifting.

The Daily Telegraph reports on the son of Victoria Cross winner Royal Artillery Sergeant Umrao Singh, who despite his grinding poverty refuses all offers to sell the medal. Read the story, it is worth it. I couldn't read it without getting choked up about it.

While it is unrealistic to expect a hereditary pension for the families of VC holders, I still get the sense of a wrong to be righted. I imagine that many people will feel the same way, and I hope that the paper will find a way to publicise ways of getting money to these honourable people.

As a rather important sidebar, the British Empire in India raised the largest volunteer army in history.
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Blogger Ellee Seymour said... 1:49 pm

I don't see how a medal can mean anything other than the family of the person who it was awarded to.

You sound like a real softie.  



Blogger Croydonian said... 1:54 pm

All very true, Ellee, and the collecting of other people's things for other than purposes of utility strikes me as bit voodoo, frankly.

Yup, you've got me bang to rights there.  



Anonymous Anonymous said... 7:48 pm

Well, maybe the publicity highlighting his poverty may come to benefit him, donations or interviews or something?

Hope this doesnt sound overly cynical...  



Blogger Croydonian said... 9:48 pm

Maybe, but I can think of less deserving people....  



Anonymous Anonymous said... 10:58 pm

Yeah, point taken. But the son has nothing to do with acts the father. At least he does have something of value to sell.

There are millions of war hero decendents living in the Asian sub continent and around the world who dont. Not every person who made a valuable contribution in the war effort was ever rewarded.

God, I'm in a bad mood today.  



Blogger Croydonian said... 11:21 pm

As a footnote to this, my sister is married to an anglo-asian chap, whose family emigrated here in the 50s, feeling less than comfortable as Catholics in India. Anyway, his grandfather served in the Western desert, and as a devout man made a point of praying every night, much to the amusement / ridicule of his tent mates. When the camp was bombed and his was the only tent left unscathed, they stopped their mockery.

In a tale I might flesh out another time, the same family spent most of their considerable fortune bribing train staff to protect Muslims fleeing to what became Pakistan, and likewise Hindus going in the opposite direction.  



Blogger Croydonian said... 10:12 am

Barbara, I'll ask him and see if I can flesh out the detail a tad.  



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