That this House has considered the contributions of Commonwealth troops in the First World War.
I grew up in Ilford as a youngster with my childhood friends Harp and Sukha. We were ordinary lads bound together by a love for football, and oblivious to the fact that our fathers, grandfathers and great-grandfathers could, unknown to us, similarly have been bound together, but on the battlefields of Europe. How were we to know? That was not taught in schools, and it was not shown in the films I watched on the silver screen as a child. It was as if the heroism of the troops from what we now call the Commonwealth had simply been airbrushed out of history.
The reality was very different. When Britain entered the first world war in August 1914, it did not stand alone. From across the oceans and continents, and from villages and cities thousands of miles away, the Commonwealth answered the clarion call. They came from Canada, Australia, New Zealand, the Caribbean, Africa and the Indian subcontinent, then known as British India. They had different languages, different cultures and different faiths, yet they stood together with a shared purpose. They stood together because, in that moment, the Commonwealth stood as one.
On Monday, we mark Commonwealth Day, which is a moment not only of celebration, but of remembrance of the extraordinary contribution made by soldiers from across the Commonwealth—the men and women whose courage and sacrifice helped to shape the world we live in today.
The first world war is often remembered through images of muddy trenches in France and Belgium, yet the reality was far wider. The war stretched across continents from the fields of Flanders to the deserts of Mesopotamia, and from the mountains of Gallipoli to the plains of east Africa. Across all these theatres of war, soldiers of the Commonwealth fought and fell side by side. Over 620,000 Canadians answered the call, more than 416,000 Australians enlisted and about 136,000 New Zealanders served, while from the Caribbean, thousands volunteered for the British West Indian Regiment, crossing the ocean to fight a war not of their making.
From the undivided India, the contribution was immense. More than 1.3 million soldiers from the Indian subcontinent served in the first world war—in the trenches of Europe, the deserts of Africa and the battlefields of the middle east. Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs stood shoulder to shoulder with the British Tommy. They travelled thousands of miles from home, leaving behind families and communities, who would carry the weight of their absence for a lifetime, because many would never return. Most had never seen Europe before—and many had never known the freezing winters of the western front—yet when they arrived they faced one of the most brutal forms of warfare the world had ever witnessed.
I congratulate my hon. Friend on securing such an important debate. I join him in paying tribute to the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, which does such important work conserving sites across the country. I was lucky enough to have a tour of the Holy Ghost cemetery in Basingstoke. Will he also join me in paying tribute to the volunteers who preserve these important sites and ensure that troops from across the Commonwealth, their service and their sacrifice are honoured today and into the future?
I absolutely agree with everything my hon. Friend said.
From undivided India alone, around 74,000 soldiers were killed, each one a son, a brother, a husband or a friend—each one a life cut short by war. For many years, the full story of Commonwealth contributions was not widely recognised. Remembrance often focused on Europe, but gradually, history is correcting that imbalance. Research by British Future found that in 2014, only 22% of people knew that Muslim soldiers fought for Britain in the first world war. By 2018, that figure had risen to 38%, but a lot of people are still oblivious to that fact. Soldiers from the Christian faith remained the most widely recognised, at 79%, while awareness of the Sikh contribution rose from 34% to 38%, with Jewish and Hindu soldiers also increasingly recognised. It also found that 75% of the public agree that learning more about South Asian contributions to world war history could help social cohesion in Britain. It is encouraging to see that growing recognition of the ethnic and faith diversity of the armies that served Britain.
One example is Hardit Malik, the first Indian Sikh to fly as a pilot in the Royal Flying Corps during the first world war. He had joined the corps in 1917, after initially being rejected because of the colour of his skin, and yet he persevered, flying combat missions over France and Italy and even facing the famed Red Baron. He also went on to play first-class cricket for Sussex and at Oxford University, where he studied. Hardit Singh Malik lives in our memory and through the words spoken in this House.
Across Britain and throughout the Commonwealth, historians, museums and memorial organisations are working to ensure that the sacrifice of all those who served is remembered, with no story left behind and no hero forgotten. Institutions such as the Imperial War Museum preserve letters, photographs and personal accounts from soldiers across the world. The Commonwealth War Graves Commission maintains cemeteries and memorials across more than 150 countries. When we visit these cemeteries today, we see something absolutely remarkable: row after row of headstones, some marked with a Christian cross, some with the Islamic crescent, some with Sikh khandas, some with the Hindu om, and some with no religious symbol at all—different names and different backgrounds, but equal in sacrifice and in remembrance.
I congratulate the hon. Member for Ilford South (Jas Athwal) on securing the debate.
“Their name liveth for evermore”—
Those words are carved on to each stone of remembrance in large Commonwealth War Graves Commission cemeteries and memorials right around the world. Today’s debate, ahead of Commonwealth Day on Monday 9 March, speaks to that phrase suggested by Rudyard Kipling, as we remember the legacy of those we commemorate.
The Commonwealth War Graves Commission, once referred to as the Imperial War Graves Commission—the name was altered in 1960, for obvious reasons, when the Commonwealth was formed—represents ultimately six countries whose troops came together from the Commonwealth to serve in the first world war, and again in the second world war. However, along with those six countries, many others are represented, as was alluded to in the first speech. There are Commonwealth War Graves Commission sites in 23,000 locations, and 153 countries and territories. For those who do not know, I previously worked for the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, and whereas I would formerly have had an hour for such a speech, I obviously have a bit less time this afternoon, but I hope to do its work justice.
It is important to reflect on the fact that there are sites right across the world that are impacted by ongoing conflict, but the commission has a commitment to maintaining and upkeeping its sites in perpetuity. For those who do not know, there is a uniformity to the commission’s commemoration. Every single person we are aware of who died in service in the first or second world war receives either a headstone or a memorial. These are different from village and town memorials. They are specific to the commission, and they commemorate those who fell between 4 August 1914 and 31 August 1921, and between 3 September 1939 and 31 December 1947. Those who visit commission sites might notice that some died after the ending of the wars. They may well have died of illness after those dates.
I congratulate my hon. Friend the Member for Ilford South (Jas Athwal) on securing this important debate.
It is important that we recognise the contribution of the Commonwealth troops in the first and the second world wars. When we remember the world wars, we rightly honour the bravery of British servicemen and servicewomen, but Britain did not fight those wars alone. Millions of men and women across the Commonwealth stood alongside British forces and played a decisive role in defending freedom in Europe and beyond. More than 1.3 million soldiers from the Indian subcontinent served in the first world war, fighting in some of the most brutal theatres of conflict, including the western front, Gallipoli and the middle east.
It is important to remember that what was known then as British India included regions that today form India, Pakistan and Bangladesh. Many of the soldiers who fought for Britain came from areas that are now part of Pakistan, and there was a vast number of Muslim soldiers among those who served. In fact, historians estimate that millions of Muslim soldiers and labourers fought for the allied forces during the two world wars; at least 2.5 million Muslims contributed during the first world war and an estimated 5.5 million during the second world war. Nearly 1.5 million Muslims are believed to have been killed in action across both conflicts. These men travelled thousands of miles from their home to fight in conflicts that were not of their making.
Muslim soldiers fought in the trenches of northern France and Belgium, endured the freezing conditions of European winters and served across battlefields stretching from Europe to north Africa and the middle east. Many fought alongside soldiers of other faiths, sharing food, hardship and danger. There are records of Muslim, Christian and Jewish soldiers learning each other’s burial rites, so that the fallen could be laid to rest with dignity on the battlefield.
I would like to congratulate the hon. Member for Ilford South (Jas Athwal)—for stealing most of my speech. It was absolutely wonderful and very powerful.
We live in very polarising times. As the hon. Member for Bolton South and Walkden (Yasmin Qureshi) mentioned, all debates seem to be along the lines of our differences—what religion we are, what colour we are, what creed we are and where we come from. These debates are sadly not just on the airwaves or the news channels, but in this Chamber. It is all about what divides us, and not what brings us together. That is why I thank the hon. Member for Ilford South, in all seriousness, for bringing this debate to the Chamber; it gives us an important opportunity. Many people from my community or background, or from the empire, are not aware of their own history, and so do not have the knowledge to debate these matters coherently.
The contributions made by Commonwealth soldiers in the first world war have been mentioned already by many speakers. They were men of every faith and no faith, and of every colour. Can we imagine living in Africa or British India at a time where there were no televisions and very few photographs, and being sent abroad to a foreign land? It must have been very frightening for them. Some may have seen it as an adventure, but as soon as they landed on this shore, with climates they were unaccustomed to, it must have been a real shock to them.
More than 1.3 million soldiers from British India served in the first world war, including over 400,000 Muslims, 53,000 of whom gave their lives. In total, more than 2.5 million Muslim soldiers and labourers from across the globe supported the allied war effort. The work of the National Muslim War Memorial Trust reminds us that their sacrifice was immense, yet, as we have mentioned already, it is not spoken about very often.
Commonwealth soldiers of all faiths served in the trenches of Europe, in the deserts of north and east Africa, in Madagascar and in the far east. Together, they faced unimaginable hardships, enduring gas attacks, machine gun fire, waterlogged trenches, hunger and fear. We remember that the war was won not only by Britain, but by the Commonwealth united in purpose.
More than 1 million troops from Commonwealth nations died in the “war to end wars”. My thanks go to my hon. Friend the Member for Ilford South (Jas Athwal) for securing this important debate today to honour their service and the service of their comrades who did survive the first world war.
Anyone who has been in a secondary school history class knows that world war one was the result of hyper-nationalism growing across Europe, coupled with a passion for militarism. Armament is all too familiar once again today, with the perverse and absurd theory that spending billions of pounds more on weaponry than on housing, health, education and funding vital public services will be the route to improving people’s living standards.
History shows that after nationalism and militarism, imperialism is likely to follow. Back then, European nations were vying for resources, colonies and the expansion of trade routes in Africa and Asia, so war was a certainty. History also teaches us that it is mainly nations’ working-class populations that are sent off to fight and die. In world war one, the working class, including from Commonwealth nations, were treated as nothing more than fodder; they were disposable. They were sacrificed for glorious imperial gain.
Across two world wars, fanatical nationalism, extreme militarism and the pursuit of imperial supremacy accounted for more than 75 million deaths. We have had terrifying contributions from Members across the Chamber regarding the massive increase in spending to rearm the country. Do people not see that we are heading towards more conflicts, more war, more destruction and more death? The path that we are on will lead only to more suffering for the working class of all nations.
War is a relatively easy thing to talk about, especially for people like me who have never served in a war in uniform. The respect and gratitude that I have for those who have and who do is enormous. Tragically, I find it incredible that the post-war consensus of trying to avoid war at all costs seems to have been largely forgotten.
I congratulate my hon. Friend the Member for Ilford South on securing this important debate and on his powerful opening speech. Many Commonwealth troops made the ultimate sacrifice for us. In my constituency of Glasgow North, there are a number of Commonwealth war grave sites and memorials that commemorate a total of 1,100 individuals. The Western Necropolis in Glasgow North alone contains 500 service personnel from both world wars who are laid to rest in Commonwealth war graves. Among them are Canadians, Australians and even American volunteers who served in Commonwealth forces.
Those sites are an important reminder not just of the sacrifice that Commonwealth soldiers made, but of the role that Glasgow played in the war effort, from shipbuilding on the Clyde to the hospitals caring for the wounded. However, we must also take time to recognise the contribution of those Commonwealth soldiers who made the ultimate sacrifice, yet, often due to their nationality, did not receive the recognition they deserved. These forgotten or neglected soldiers were often from the then empire, originating from places such as modern-day Pakistan, India and Bangladesh. My hon. Friend the Member for Ilford South and the hon. Member for Leicester South (Shockat Adam) made reference to Khudadad Khan, who was the first Indian Muslim to receive the Victoria Cross. We must do more to ensure that soldiers like Khan, and the more than 4 million British Indian Army soldiers who served in the two world wars, are adequately remembered.
In my constituency, the Colourful Heritage charity has been working hard to promote those contributions through an exhibition in Kelvingrove museum and educational resources for schools across Scotland, helping the public and young people to engage with this history. More recently, Colourful Heritage, along with partners, has been granted planning permission to establish Scotland’s first permanent memorial to the British Indian Army in the grounds of Kelvingrove. The design was agreed on after consultation with community and faith groups, as well as with pupils across a number of schools in Scotland. The memorial reflects the diversity of those who served—Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs, Christians and those of no religious faith. Thus far, they have raised more than £100,000, with the aim of raising a total of £270,000 to complete the memorial. I am sure that Members across the House will wish them well in achieving that important goal.
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At the onset of the great war, King George V appealed directly to the proud martial tradition of the Punjabis, invoking a single, powerful word: izzat—honour, duty, reputation. He declared:
“Officers, Non-Commissioned Officers and Men: I look to all my Indian soldiers to uphold the izzat of the British Raj against an aggressive and relentless enemy.”
It was a deliberate and unmistakable call to men whose identities were rooted in honour, whose regiments carried generations of service, and whose sense of duty ran deep —and they answered.
A few weeks later, as the situation on the western front became increasingly perilous, the Secretary of State for War, a certain Lord Kitchener, rose in Parliament to steady a nation anxious about defence in Europe. He told the other place:
“On their way from India are certain Divisions from the Indian Army, composed of highly trained and very efficient troops, and a body of Cavalry including regiments of historic fame.” —[Official Report, House of Lords, 17 September 1914; Vol. 17, c. 736.]
His speech was received to rapturous applause. Those words carried urgency and hope, because reinforcements were coming. Across thousands of miles of ocean, ships pressed westward carrying men who had never seen Europe.
In September 1914, Indian troops arrived in France. Within weeks, they would be in the trenches. Among them were men of the Lahore Division, recruited largely from the Punjab. They were among the first colonial forces to land in France to defend the Crown. The Sikhs had well and truly arrived. Landing in Marseille, they were greeted like heroes. French women rushed forward with flowers and embraces, hailing them as the saviours of France, but admiration could not shield those fine men from one of the most desperate moments of war. Within weeks, they found themselves fighting in one of the fiercest battles of the conflict: the first battle of Ypres. German forces launched massive assaults, determined to break through allied lines. The fighting was relentless, trenches were overrun, artillery pounded the earth day and night, and machine gun fire swept across the fields. In those trenches stood soldiers who had travelled from the golden fields of Punjab, from Bengal and from villages across the Indian subcontinent.
Among them was a Muslim soldier, Khudadad Khan, a machine gunner from the British Indian Army. In October 1914, his unit came under overwhelming attack. German troops advanced in large numbers, intent on tearing through allied lines. One by one, the soldiers around him fell, but Khan did not waver. Even as he was badly wounded, he stood relentless in the face of the enemy. His courage held the line, delaying the German advance and preventing a breakthrough that could have changed the course of that battle. For his extraordinary bravery, he became the first Indian soldier, a Muslim, to receive the Victoria Cross—the highest, most prestigious medal of all. His story reminds us of something profound: heroism knows no nationality and courage has no borders.
Across the Commonwealth, millions of soldiers stepped forward. They were farmers, students, labourers, clerks and teachers—ordinary people placed in extraordinary circumstances. In the trenches, life was very harsh and unforgiving. Mud filled the trenches, shellfire shook the ground, cold winters and relentless rain turned battlefields into oceans of mud, and letters were written to homes never reached. One soldier wrote home of a cold that pierced through his uniform, of frost covering the ground and of the sheer strangeness of fighting in a land so far from home. And yet they stood firm. In the trenches, it did not matter where someone came from or the colour of their skin. What mattered was who they stood beside: a Sikh soldier sharing a trench with a Scottish highlander; a Muslim cavalryman alongside an English infantryman; a Caribbean volunteer marching with an Australian battalion. They were of different faiths, languages and cultures, yet were united by a shared commitment, loyalty and courage.
The story of the Commonwealth in both the world wars is not only the story of soldiers; it is the story of labourers, nurses, porters and support workers—the men and women whose efforts made victory possible. Everywhere across the war, the Commonwealth was present, and everywhere, the cost was immense. More than 1.1 million soldiers from across the British empire and the Commonwealth lost their lives in the first world war, according to records maintained by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission.
The story of Commonwealth soldiers in the first world war is more than a chapter of history; it is part of the foundation of the modern Commonwealth, and a testament that, long before globalisation became a common phrase, people from across the world were already connected through shared struggle and sacrifice. It reminds us that diversity has always been part of our story, since long before the community’s contribution to our NHS and our public services, contributions that today are so often the only measure used to justify our belonging to Great Britain. It reminds us that true unity does not erase our differences, but embraces them. The men who fought together in the trenches did not become the same. They remained proudly who they were, but they stood together. Sometimes, that is what matters most.
As we mark Commonwealth Day, we reflect on the contributions of the diverse communities who came together to defeat tyranny. We remember that they came from every corner of the Commonwealth, from distant villages and bustling cities, and from different cultures and faiths, yet when history called, they answered together. They fought together, and many of them fell together. More than a century later, their legacy still speaks to us. It reminds us that the strength of our society always comes from unity, from standing together in difficult times, and from recognising that our shared humanity is stronger than the differences that divide us. Today, we honour them not only for the battles they fought and the sacrifices they made, but for the example they left behind. At a time when language, race, religion and skin colour are too often used to divide us, the story of these soldiers reminds us of something far greater. It reminds us that people of different backgrounds can come together in the service of something bigger than themselves, that courage transcends culture, that honour transcends borders, and that unity forged in sacrifice can endure.
It is easy to forget. The omission of this shared history of valour has rendered the nation’s classrooms, museums and silver screens bereft of an inclusive, balanced heritage education. In multicultural Britain, this has led to a lack of awareness and, ultimately, the propagation of misinformation in popular culture to the detriment of British Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs. An example of courage, service and, above all, unity, they came from every corner of the world, but in the trenches of the first world war, they stood as one. Because of them, we remember that the Commonwealth was never simply a collection of nations. It was, and remains, a community bound by shared history, shared sacrifice and a shared hope for the future. Let us remember that there is more that unites us than divides us.
In my remaining time, I want to focus on the contribution of Commonwealth troops across the south-west. In my constituency of South West Devon, 137 people from Commonwealth troops are commemorated across 26 sites. Of those, 61 are from the first world war, and they served at least five nations. Plymouth as a whole commemorates over 25,000, most significantly on the naval memorial on Plymouth Hoe, but also right across the city in local churchyards and villages.
The role of the CWGC is to commemorate those troops and to tell their stories. A big part of that is a project called “Evermore”. Two years ago, I would have struggled to tell these stories, but members of the public have made their contributions, and we now have much more information about the men and women we commemorate. It is best to share those stories, and that is exactly what I am going to do today.
Ernest John Quest would have been a constituent of mine, were he still alive. He was born in Lee Moor and was buried in the Methodist graveyard there. It is a tiny village near the China clay works. It is pretty bleak, but that is where he was born, raised, and ultimately buried. He joined the Australian munitions workers, having gone out to Australia as a British man in his early 20s. He came back towards the end of the war, and served in munitions, to ensure that we had enough equipment to fight the war. He came back at the beginning of 1918 and sadly, by the end of the year, he had died of pneumonia. As he was in the UK doing that work, he could be buried close to home with what would be called a private memorial. He does not have a commission headstone; his family put their own headstone in place for him. The munitions workers came because they were offered a freebie, effectively. They came over here to work and provide that service, but they are key among those whom the commission commemorates, both in the UK and abroad.
James Wilson was from an equally small part of my constituency, Yelverton on Dartmoor. Anybody from there watching this speech will know the Devon Tors hotel, a key landmark on a big roundabout. His father ran it as a boarding house. He, too, went to Australia, and was a single farmer in 1915 when he enlisted. He served with the Australian Imperial Force in France. Sadly, he died just after the war of influenza and pneumonia and was buried in the tiny village of Meavy on Dartmoor. He links to my favourite grave—not something I ever thought I would say, but when you work for the commission, that becomes what you talk about. It is the grave of a man called Charles Allen, who was also Australian. He is unique, because I believe that he has the only such grave in the UK with his photograph on it. He was a very handsome man. He was killed in 1917, and his granite stone cross in Efford cemetery has a little enamel plate with his photograph on. For those on a tour of the cemetery, it serves to show just who these young men were who lost their life. He came to the UK to do his basic training, but sadly died of illness before he even started. We also have a member of the South African Native Labour Corps buried in Wembury, in probably the most picturesque location for a headstone; it overlooks the south Devon coast.
Finally, I want to speak of a family, the Tuckers of Yealmpton. Three brothers were killed between 12 March 1917 and 10 August 1918. They are commemorated in Tyne Cot, and in two French cemeteries. One is missing—we do not know where he is buried— but his brothers have graves. All of them are commemorated by the family back home in Devon. A further Tucker, not related, was born in South Africa and is also commemorated in my constituency, in Plymouth. He died at the age of 33 and is buried in Plympton. Why is that important? We must keep these stories alive; that is more pertinent than ever. I will just flag that War Graves Week is from 16 to 24 May, so there will be plenty of opportunity for Members to show their appreciation for the work of the commission then.
One lady who is often forgotten is Noor-un-Nisa Inayat Khan, a British Muslim woman and the first wireless operator sent into occupied France. She was betrayed and then arrested and tortured for months before being executed at Dachau concentration camp. She was given a George Cross posthumously.
Despite such enormous sacrifices, the contribution of Muslim soldiers remains largely absent from our national memory. At a time of increasing divisions in our society, and in particular the demonising of Muslims in parts of our political discourse and media—including by some very senior politicians, who should be absolutely ashamed of themselves—Muslims in Britain are too often portrayed as outsiders, or as somehow disconnected from the history of this country, but the truth is different. Muslims were in the trenches of the first world war. They were in the forces that fought fascism during the second world war. They served in the merchant navy, in labour corps and across battlefields around the world. Many of them never returned home. Their sacrifices helped to defend the freedoms and democratic values that we all benefit from today.
In my constituency, many families trace their heritage to the Indian subcontinent, including Pakistan. For many of them, the history of Commonwealth soldiers is not distant history, but part of their family stories. My paternal grandfather fought in the war and my maternal uncle had the King’s commission at a time when most people from the Indian subcontinent had the viceroy’s commission. That why we have a sense of belonging in this country.
Debates like these matter. They remind us that Britain has always been shaped by the contributions of people from many backgrounds, faith and cultures. When we remember the first and second world wars, we must remember the full story of that shared sacrifice.
Yet it is painful to acknowledge that the story told through our memorials has been incomplete. Animal sacrifices in the war effort were honoured with a national memorial in Hyde Park in 2004, and rightly so. However, that was way before the black and Asian soldiers who fought, bled and died for Britain were recognised. It is only recently that they have begun to receive that recognition. This is a truth we cannot shy away from. Why did it happen?
We have already heard the story of Khudadad Khan, who was born in 1888 in Punjab and served with the 129th Baluchis, becoming the first Indian soldier to receive the Victoria Cross. We have heard of his bravery in Belgium in 1914, when his regiment was completely outnumbered. Knowing he was the only one alive, he pretended to be dead and slid away in the darkness of the night; he later came back and, as the hon. Member for Ilford South said, changed the destiny of that battle. Now, his descendants live in Leeds. This is not somebody else’s history; it is our history.
Consider Walter Tull, one of the most celebrated black British soldiers of the first world war. He enlisted in 1914, endured shellshock, returned to fight at the Somme and was commissioned as an officer in 1917, despite regulations that should have barred him because of his race. He continued to fight and was mentioned in dispatches for “gallantry and coolness” in Italy in 1918. Sadly, two months later, he died in no man’s land.
Think of Lionel Turpin, a 19-year-old from Guyana who travelled to the mother country, as he called it, to serve on the western front. He survived the Somme, but not the effects of gas attacks. Think, too, of the 60,000 black South Africans and 120,000 other Africans who served in the labour units, and of the men of the British West Indies Regiment who, in 1915, sailed all the way from Jamaica to train on the Sussex coast before being deployed to Egypt and beyond.
These people are not and should never be footnotes in history. They were part of the very fabric of our armed forces. They should not be footnotes, but headlines. That is why, when Laurence Fox questioned the inclusion of a Sikh soldier in the fantastic first world war film “1917”, it exposed not diversity gone too far, but history not yet understood deeply enough. Sikh soldiers made up more than 20% of the British Indian Army during the war. In my city of Leicester, a statue unveiled in 2022 now commemorates their service—long-overdue recognition of their extraordinary loyalty and courage.
We recognise their bravery, we honour their sacrifice and we commit to remembering them. What does their service teach us today? It teaches us that courage knows no nationality, religion or race. If we allow polarisation to divide us along lines of colour or creed, we dishonour those who stood shoulder to shoulder in the mud of Flanders. If we forget the global nature of their sacrifice, we shrink our own national story.
Let us tell that story fully, teach it honestly and commemorate it properly. For lest we forget—by forgetting, we dishonour not only what those troops endured, but the legacy that they pass to us: a nation strengthened, not diminished, by the diversity of those who defended it.
As we reflect today on the contribution of Commonwealth soldiers to the first world war, I note that our understanding of it deepens over time, as new stories come to light and previously overlooked service is properly recognised.