hugh KITCHING

hugh KITCHING

Male 1893 - 1917  (24 years)

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  • Name hugh KITCHING 
    Born 1893  horsforth yorkshire Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Gender Male 
    Died 9 Oct 1917  Tyne Cot, West Vlaanderen, Belgium Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Person ID I03935  Derbyshire Hills
    Last Modified 29 Jun 2013 

    Father thomas KITCHING,   b. 1858, horsforth yorkshire Find all individuals with events at this location,   d. 1936, horsforth yorkshire Find all individuals with events at this location  (Age 78 years) 
    Relationship Natural 
    Mother elizabeth BLYTHE,   b. 1858, Horsforth yorkshire Find all individuals with events at this location,   d. 1908, Horsforth yorkshire Find all individuals with events at this location  (Age 50 years) 
    Relationship Natural 
    Married 1880  Wharfedale, Yorkshire, England Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Family ID F2255  Group Sheet  |  Family Chart

  • Event Map
    Link to Google MapsDied - 9 Oct 1917 - Tyne Cot, West Vlaanderen, Belgium Link to Google Earth
     = Link to Google Earth 

  • Notes 
    • 265358 sergeant hugh kitching 1st/7th batallion west yorkshire regiment(prince of wales own) killed in france 9/10/1917. remembered with honour at the tyne cot memorial.
      FOR THE FALLEN

      With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
      England mourns for her dead across the sea.
      Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
      Fallen in the cause of the free.

      Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
      Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
      There is music in the midst of desolation
      And a glory that shines upon our tears.

      They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
      Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
      They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
      They fell with their faces to the foe.

      They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
      Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
      At the going down of the sun and in the morning
      We will remember them.

      They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
      They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
      They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
      They sleep beyond England's foam.

      But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
      Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
      To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
      As the stars are known to the Night;

      As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
      Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
      As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
      To the end, to the end, they remain.
      lawrence binyon




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