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Few things define a society more than the way it treats its most vulnerable members

Charles Whitley was one of three brothers who attended ºÚÁϳԹÏ×ÊÔ´ school. Born in 1888, he was a pupil here from 1899 to 1906. He is described as having a high character, keen intelligence and unswerving loyalty although, like all like all of us, Charles wasn’t perfect. The punishment records of the time, (which make for an interesting read), show that, on one occasion, he was in trouble for idleness and another for disorder during lock-up, the term for prep-time. Because schools dealt with things differently then, on the first occasion Charles’ punishment was four strokes, on the second it was nine. However, Charles changed his ways, he became a member of the first XV of 1906, editor of the Bromsgrovian magazine, a ºÚÁϳԹÏ×ÊÔ´ Monitor and Head of ºÚÁϳԹÏ×ÊÔ´ House. He also won a scholarship to study at Balliol College Oxford.

In 1914, when he was 26, Charles was farming in Cheshire, but he chose to join one of the public school battalions of the Royal Fusiliers. He obtained a commission the following year and first went out to France in the summer of 1915. He had two short spells at the Front because he was wounded twice, and in October 1916 he was strongly recommended for the DSO, the Distinguished Service Order, as a result of his fine handling of his company in a difficult position. It is said that few men have shown more adaptability to circumstances or shouldered more readily the burden brought by the war.

After his death on the 11th of April 1917, at the age of just 28, Captain Charles Whitley was remembered in the Bromsgrovian magazine published at the end that year. His loss, it said, is irreparable. In him has passed not only a good man, but a good citizen.

Coming back to the old punishment book, another name that features was that of Edmund Page who happened to be one of Charles Whitley’s closest friends. Edmund’s entry refers to him making a humming noise during lockup and also, to throwing pepper about in the dining hall. Both offences led to documented punishments but, like Charles, Edmund clearly decided that a career committing such crimes was not for him. He too left ºÚÁϳԹÏ×ÊÔ´ for Oxford where he played both football and rugby for the University. He began farming with his friend Charles and, when war broke out, he joined up with him. Edmund was mentioned in dispatched on a number of occasions and he was awarded a Military Cross for exemplary gallantry.

 In a 1915 ºÚÁϳԹÏ×ÊÔ´ ºÚÁϳԹÏ×ÊÔ´ debate on the motion, this house believes that an abundance of popular magazines indicates poor literary taste. Charles Green argued that there were no great authors anymore. Rather than read magazines in their spare time people should be reading the works of great authors like Dickens, Sophocles or Shakespeare. A year later, Charles Green was at the Front and a year after that, when he was just 20, he was killed by a piece of shell. He was awarded the Military Cross.

Behind me, on the boards just in front of the altar, are the names of the Old Bromsgrovians who gave their lives in the two world wars, about 100 in each. Behind you, outside near the flagpole are replica poppies, painstakingly made by the DT department, each one inscribed with a year of death, a regiment and a name. And if we are not careful, the boards and the poppies just tell us names. But those who died in the two world wars, and indeed those across the world who continue to die in war, were not and are not just names, they were people just like us. They were here, at ºÚÁϳԹÏ×ÊÔ´ ºÚÁϳԹÏ×ÊÔ´, like us; they had lessons in classrooms, took part in activities, represented their Houses, just like us; they did good things, and, as we’ve heard, occasionally they got it wrong, like us and they had planned to leave ºÚÁϳԹÏ×ÊÔ´ to go on to use their talents in the world as we hope to do.

In the Bromsgrovian Magazine of 1917, an OB wrote a letter back to ºÚÁϳԹÏ×ÊÔ´ from his position in the trenches. Being one of the younger Bromsgrovians at the Front, he wrote, it was with intense pleasure I received a box of cigarettes the other day from the ºÚÁϳԹÏ×ÊÔ´. It meant so much, acting as a vivid reminder of the old days, and above all that I was not forgotten. It is that which is most treasured out here and it is that for which I cannot find the words to thank the ºÚÁϳԹÏ×ÊÔ´…I long for the time when I can see the ºÚÁϳԹÏ×ÊÔ´ again…

 Because there is no name recorded, I don’t know whether the young man who wrote that letter ever did have the chance to see his ºÚÁϳԹÏ×ÊÔ´ again, or whether he died in France…but isn’t it interesting that his wish then was that he, and others like him, would not be forgotten.

The annual Prep ºÚÁϳԹÏ×ÊÔ´ battlefields visit took place over half term and the pupils visited the Menin Gate Memorial in Ypres, which honours the British and Commonwealth soldiers who were killed there but have no known grave. Instead, their names, are listed on the memorial which has the inscription We don’t know them all, but we owe them all.

Bearing that in mind, and the wish of the anonymous OB who wrote the letter, our job this morning is to remind ourselves of how much we owe those who fight for peace on our behalf and we must also ensure that those who die doing so, are not forgotten. Indeed, we must ensure that that they will always be remembered.